Ironsides, deserve specially to be mentioned, as they procured for themselves a famous name by their invincible courage and endurance in this battle. They took up their position on the left wing, accompanied by Manchester and Crawford's horse. Lord Fairfax occupied the centre with his infantry, and on his right were troops of horse, commanded by his son and seme Scotch generals

Accounts of the number of the Royalists present upon Marston Moor are so varied that it is impossible to state positively how many Cavaliers were there, but it does not appear that there were more than 20,000, if even so many. The Irish horse, of whose courage the highest opinion was entertained, were posted in the right wing opposite to Cromwell's Ironsides. The infantry, who were placed in the centre under Sir Charles Cavendish, were called Newcastle's Lambs, be cause they wore undyed woollen coats, which they are reputed to have said, before the battle, would soon be dyed red enough; as surely turned out to be the case, but unhappily it was their own brave blood that dyed them. On the left, facing the Scotch array, was posted the Royal horse, under Rupert and Lord Goring.

The

Prince was fiercely determined in his heart to punish the traitors who had marched out of Scotland to help the King's enemies. The Scotch earl, Montrose, was at this very time with some few faithful followers trying in vain to join his forces to those of the Prince.

It was late and dark in the evening before all the forces were ready and assembled, but the rebels had determined to press on the battle, for

I

they stood sorely in need of provisions, and their condition for fighting was not likely to be improved by starvation. The artillery on their left, where Cromwell stood, was the first to open fire; their cannon growled out a defiance, and sent some shots flying through the gloom. Just at this time a regular thunder-storm burst over the field; the Puritans believed this (for what reason is not apparent) to be a manifestation of God's wrath upon their enemies, and they burst into hymns of triumph. As for Rupert and his men they prayed humbly to that Great Being above them who could look down without respect of persons into the separate hearts of all those excited thousands, and so recognise His own children.

Preparations were all over now, and the battle began in earnest. Cromwell's Ironsides met Byron's Irish horse with a furious charge, and drove them back, disordered ard confused, while at the same time Rupert dashed at the Scotch, his well-known voice cheering on his followers. The rebels were swept down before him, Colonel Goring quickly followed him up, and the rout of the right wing was complete. They fell fast before the Royalist horse, and all that did not fall fled for their lives towards Marston, with Rupert and Goring in hot pursuit. Thus did the Prince avenge himself upon the Scotch.

But in his absence things did not go well upon the field. The Irish had been unable to check the charge of the Ironsides, who pressed forward into the very ranks of the Royalists. Newcastle's "Lambs" stood stoutly to receive them as they approached. But the Royal artillery was cap

tured and turned upon them by the enemy, murdering them in rows, while they stood unflinching, still receiving the rebel horse upon their upraised pikes, an example of faithful heroism to the present day. Only thirty of these white-coated Lambs survived to tell the story. They fell, man by man, where they had been placed to do their duty.

Thus it appeared at first, for a time, as if both sides had won a separate battle. Rupert had utterly routed the Scotch, and Cromwell had been equally successful over the Irish and Newcastle infantry. Both parties now prepared to wind up their supposed victory by a return to the field, when, to their equal astonishment, each commander found the other approaching to meet him from the opposite quarter, their positions having been exactly changed from what they had been when the struggle began.

The Prince made superhuman efforts to rally his men to meet this unexpected emergency, but in vain. They were overdone by the exertion of the charge, immediately followed by their long pursuit of the Scotch, and they could not or would not rouse themselves to a fresh effort. The Puritans, on the contrary, were fully alive to the importance of the crisis; they charged forward with spirit, and the weary Cavaliers, to their shame be it said, fled headlong from the field.

With shame and pain of heart, Rupert galloped hither and thither, striving to gather into one such little knots of men as still stood firm. But it was a useless attempt; the rebel force dispersed with ease those wavering little companies, and

the Prince was left actually alone with his enemies upon Marston Moor.

Rupert's unflagging zeal and energy still, however, upbore his spirit, and taught him that something might even yet be done, if not to retrieve the day, at least to disconcert his enemies, and hinder them from making a triumphant advance upon York. A bean field lay near at hand, divided from the scene of battle by a high stone wall. The Prince urged his weary horse to the effort, cleared the wall, and under its shelter escaped, and made for the city, calling upon every available man he met to accompany him. Arrived at some narrow lanes which formed the only way on that side to York, he dismounted his men, and placed them so that they might be ready to meet the foe, while General King, who had rallied some of the Irish foot, occupied the ground behind them as a support.

Just as they expected, Cromwell and his men, little knowing of such preparations, soon began to advance towards the town; but such a fiery welcome did they receive out of those quiet country lanes that they thought it more prudent to give up the attempt of drawing any nearer to York for the present.

Sadly enough did Rupert return to the city, a vanquished man. He was one of the last to take shelter behind her walls, for he had fought out the battle while a chance, however small, remained. He knew that Newcastle would reproach him now, and that the news of this disaster would spread quickly over England; and that then most likely people would attach the blame

to him. Many would condemn him now, who, had he succeeded, would have been the first to approve of his plans. And yet he had deserved. to succeed, if courage, perseverance, and generalship deserve reward, his only mistake having been his too lengthened and impetuous pursuit of the Scotch rebels. More than all, had he not done what his master had so strictly commanded him to do? Yes; it was all true. Rupert after this unhappy day deserved all consideration, but instead he had to endure reproaches along with his own bitter sense of failure.

Hardly had the Prince entered York when he received the intelligence that Newcastle, disgusted with the loss of the battle, and hopeless of future success, had resolved at once to quit the kingdom. Rupert remonstrated in vain. Newcastle stole away to Scarborough, and embarked for Holland, leaving his royal companion to settle affairs at York as best he could.

But the Prince knew that his uncle was anxiously awaiting him, and hoping in confidence to hear good news of his hitherto unconquerable arms. He therefore appointed Sir Thomas Glenham to remain in the city, and, leaving him a strong garrison for its defence, he set forward. bravely to tell the story of his defeat himself to the unfortunate King.