late day of distress, were now amply revenged upon the unhappy soldiers of the Covenant; three thousand of whom, at a moderate calculation, were soon stretched lifeless upon the harvestfields in the direction of Edinburgh, while at least ten thousand wounded and dejected wretches remained prisoners on the field of battle. An extraordinary degree of virulence seems, indeed, to have characterised this terrible chase. In the words of Clarendon," no quarter was given till the pursuers were weary of killing." Peculiar severity was exercised upon the clergymen who composed so prominent a body in the Scottish army. Many of them were cut down while in the very act of bawling out assurances of victory to their soldiers; others were designedly slashed by the Sectarian dragoons in the face, with the view of disfiguring them.

The people resident on the tract of country over which the chase extended have many traditionary anecdotes, to show the persevering rancour with which the English dragoons pursued their bloody work. One of them is of so striking and affecting a nature, as to be perhaps worthy of relation. The Laird of Lawhouses, a small estate about seven miles westward from Dunbar, was at the battle, perhaps as much from affection to the royal cause as to that of the Covenant. He fled across the Tyne, towards his own house, and he had just reached that place, which he calculated

would be one of refuge, and was on the point of entering its open doorway, when a dragoon who had followed hard behind him, alighted from his horse, and, steadying his carabine along the trunk of a large tree, which is still pointed out, shot the unfortunate gentleman dead upon his own threshold.

Many other men of distinction fell on this dreadful day; in particular, Winram, Laird of Libberton, one of the Committee of Estates, and a gentleman who had figured more or less prominently in all the transactions of the last twelve years; Sir Robert Scott, Sir William Douglas of Kirkness, and Sir John Haldane of Gleneagles. Two generations of the ancient family of Home of Wedderburn were killed together; that is to say, both the Laird and the Young Laird (his son), one of whom was a colonel and the other a lieutenant-colonel. There were in all eight colonels killed, being the fourth part of the whole number of colonels present.

Among the ten thousand prisoners taken by Cromwell were twelve lieutenant-colonels, six majors, thirty-seven captains, seventyfive lieutenants, seventeen cornets, two quartermasters, a hundred and ten ensigns, and fifteen sergeants. He also took two hundred stands of colours, and thirty-two pieces of ordnance, together with all their arms, ammunition, tents, and baggage. In opposition to the enormous loss of the Scottish army, Cromwell had only about thirty men killed.

The first of Cromwell's actions after the battle was to call his men together on the field, and return public thanks to the Almighty for so glorious an instance of his favour. His next care was to provide for the relief of the wounded, and the disposal of the prisoners. Not only did he set all his surgeons to work upon the former, but he permitted their relations to come to the field with carts and transport them away to their own homes. Being encumbered with the number of his prisoners, he sent a thousand of such as were wounded, in a compliment, to the Countess of Winton, to be disposed of as she might think proper; and he released four thousand more, chiefly old men and boys, upon their parole. The rest he sent under a guard into England; whither they went, says Whitelocke, "cursing their king

and clergy for ensnaring them in misery." A great portion of these unhappy persons afterwards fell victims to a disease which attacked them at Durham, in consequence of eating too freely of raw cabbage. The rest were sold by the English Parliament as slaves, and sent to Barbadoes.

Cromwell spent the next day at Dunbar in writing letters to the House of Commons, and to his own relations, regarding his victory. The Parliament was SO much overjoyed at the intelligence as to return him a public vote of thanks, and to order that all the colours he had taken might be hung up beside those taken two years before at Preston, in Westminster Hall. They also ordered medals, with suitable devices, to be distributed among the common soldiers, in token of their approbation and gratitude.

watch, nor they suspecting us no | more than we did them, which I learned afterwards from a country fellow.

We went that night about twenty miles, to a place called White Ladys, hard by Tong Castle, by the advice of Mr. Giffard, where we stopped, and got some little refreshment of bread and cheese, such as we could get, it being just beginning to be day. This White Ladys was a private house that Mr. Giffard, who was a Staffordshire man, had told me belonged to honest people that lived thereabouts.

And just as we came thither, there came in a country fellow, that told us there were three thousand of our horse just hard by Tong Castle, upon the heath, all in disorder, under David Leslie, and some other of the general officers; upon which there were some of the people of quality that were with me, who were very earnest that I should go to him and endeavour to go into Scotland; which I thought was absolutely impossible, knowing very well that the country would all rise upon us, and that men who had deserted me when they were in good order would never stand to me when they have been beaten.

This made me take the resolution of putting myself into a disguise, and endeavouring to get afoot to London, in a country fellow's habit, with a pair of ordinary grey cloth breeches, a leathern doublet, and a green jerkin, which I took in the house of White

Ladys. I also cut my hair very short, and hid my clothes, that nobody might see that anybody had been stripping themselves. I acquainting none with my reso lution of going to London but my Lord Wilmot, they all desiring me not to acquaint them with what I intended to do, because they knew not what they might be forced to confess; on which consideration, they, with one voice, begged of me not to tell them what I intended to do.

So all the persons of quality, and officers who were with me (except my Lord Wilmot, with whom a place was agreed upon for our meeting at London, if we escaped, and who endeavoured to go on horseback, in regard, as I think, of his being too big to go on foot), were resolved to go and join with the three thousand disordered horse, thinking to get away with them to Scotland. But, as I did before believe, they were not marched six miles, after they had got to them, but they were all routed by a single troop of horse; which shows that my opinion was not wrong in not sticking to men who had run away.

As soon as I was disguised I took with me a country fellow, whose name was Richard Penderell, whom Mr. Giffard had undertaken to answer for, to be an honest man. He was a Roman Catholic, and I chose to trust them, because I knew they had hiding-holes for priests, that I thought I might make use of in case of need.