the great mass, horse and foot, were thrown into irretrievable confusion.

It never had been a battle; now it was a massacre. Like an eagle wheeling round the victim on which it is about to dart, Claverhouse, making a short circuit, fell on the flank of the flying army. He rode into the centre, and divided them into two parts. Throwing, by this manœuvre, the rear half on the bayonets of the guards and the broad swords of the Highlanders, he rode at the head of his own men into the midst of the other, hewing them down, and cutting them to pieces. Every where now rose the shouts of the victors, and the shrieks of the vanquished. But above every sound that rose from that field of death, was heard the voice of Claverhouse himself, exclaiming-" No quarter, kill, kill, kill!" Multitudes threw down their arms, and on their knees pleaded for quarter. They pleaded in vain. The bayonets of the foot guards indeed might spare, but the sabres of the bloody life guards, the broad swords of the barbarous Highlanders spared none. Every where the white plume of the cruel Claverhouse waved-every where his sword flashed-and every where his raven voice screamed-" Kill! kill!" The gentle and generous Monmouth repeatedly ordered Dalzell to stop the slaughter, but that hoary hell-hound pretended not to hear him; and when he did order the pursuit to cease, it was with evident chagrin and regret; his sword, and the swords of his wild savages, were not only dim, they were dripping with blood; but they thirsted for more. Claverhouse still urged the pursuit; the bugle sounding the recall, he either did not hear, or did not regard. Hackston and Paton, Ruthven and Hay, and

myself, with about twenty more of the Galloway men who had fought under us at the bridge, had left the field together.

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See," cried Paton, “where the banner floats; ha! it wavers, it sinks; again it rises; it is down; it will be taken; no, that must not be; it is a stout hand that bears it up-John Howie's of Lochgoin; but, were it a giant's, in yon crushing and cleaving it would fail. Friends, Hackston, Hay, Ruthven, and Welwood, you have shown this day what you can do; if you would not see that banner, beneath which your fathers fought and conquered, fall into the enemy's hands, follow me.'

"Lead on," we exclaimed with one voice, "we will save it or perish."

Finding our way through friends, and hewing it out through foes, we at last discover the heroic Lochgoin surrounded by a number of the enemy, in the midst of whom he is fighting with the energy of despair. We shout, and, shouting, rush to his rescue. After a short but sanguinary ruffle, in which I receive a wound on the head, the memory and the mark of which I will carry to the grave, and am saved from death by the timely aid of Tinnergarth, who slew the trooper at a stroke who was in the act of cutting me down, and after two more of the enemy, amidst horrid oaths and imprecations, have given up their souls to God, the rest fly, and the banner is saved. Raising it from the ground to which, in the struggle, it has fallen, breathless with his almost super-human efforts, and bleeding at several wounds, the undaunted Howie unfurls it once more to the winds; cheering, we rally round it, and thus, while it continued to wave in the centre, and to display upon its bloody

scroll these words, "Christ's Crown and Covenant," asserting that cause amid defeat and death, we fought our way, step by step, from the fatal field of Bothwell Bridge.

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CHAPTER XVI.

MY APPREHENHSION.

To describe the desolations which now rolled themselves in waves of blood and fire over the bleeding face of Scotland, would require volumes. If every hand that wielded sword for Kirk and Kingdom at Bothwell Bridge, were to take up the pen, all even then would not be told. For the task I have neither heart nor hand. They can never all live on the page of history, but they are written in the Books of God. And if they should be buried in the memories of men, as I believe they will not, they will rise up before their eyes in the GREAT DAY. But what I myself saw and suffered, ere I throw aside the pen, let me hasten to describe.

The night after the battle we spent in wanderings on the moors. Faint with fatigue, and famishing for want of food, a morsel of which none of us had tasted for a night and day; at day-break we came in sight of a farm-house, at which two of our number procured for us bread and milk, to which we sat down nnder a rock. It was now agreed that we should separate, and shift as we best might for ourselves. Before this we engaged in prayer; and having sung a mournful melody-the words of which were expressive at once of the desolation of our state, and of the determinations and desires of our souls-we embraced not only as brothers in arms, but in the

highest and truest sense-brothers in Christ and "companions in tribulation," and then parted.

Tinnergarth and I kept together for two days, when we arrived at the Glenkenns. Ill news, it is said, travel fast; but the news of our defeat had not yet reached the secluded Glenkenns. Patrick," said my mother, as I entered, "you are wounded-you are sad-these things speak for themselves the cause is lost."

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"Mother," I replied, "it is lost." I now told her what had taken place.

"Here at least," said my mother, "you will be safe. Twice you have been restored to me from the dead-twice have I been made to say, 'This, my son, was dead, and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' God may have mercy for us yet in store. My last coal it may be, He will not quench."

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Of that He who

Mother," I replied, "the mercy of God is great it reacheth unto the clouds. mercy I am this day a monument. covered my head twice in the day of battle may cover it again; we are in his hand; but we must not expect him to work miracles on our account; and yet, unless he were to work one, there is no safety for me-nor, I fear much, for Tinnergarth either, even here. The waves of persecution will reach us even here. Were it myself only they would reach, it would concern me less; but were I either taken under this roof, or known to have been harboured under it, Mrs. Borthwick and yourself also would not only be brought to trouble, but might be put to the torture itself; rather than expose you to which, I would die a thousand deaths. This night, therefore, I leave the Glenkenns for Knockdailie, after which, my purpose is to cross the seas, and seek in a foreign

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