service, and not a little weary of it, as he confesses. "And if at any time there had been any gaiety at court, such as dancing or playing at cards, he was severely reproved for it. And all this was managed with so much rigor, and so little discretion, that it contributed not a little to beget in him an aversion to all sort of strictness in religion." None of his father's friends were suffered to approach him, and because the common people showed him some affection, the crowds that pressed to see him were driven back by force. An army was assembled to support his title, but he was only once allowed to visit the camp, lest he should gain the affections of the soldiery.

This army was one of the finest that the Scotch had ever brought together, but it was badly commanded. Cromwell lost no time in marching into Scotland, and got into such difficulties near Dunbar, that "he looked on himself as undone.” The folly of the Scotch preachers, however, who fancied themselves inspired warriors, gave him battle and victory. Charles is said to have been much rejoiced at their defeat, as he hoped it would humble the pride of the Duke of Argyle and the Scotch government. But, on the con

trary, the fanaticism of the times attributed every public misfortune to the wrath of heaven at his individual faults; he was called on to acknowledge this in a public document, and was altogether so harassed, that losing all patience, he made his escape from Stirling in the night, with the intention of joining a body of the old cavaliers (as the royalists were called) at Dundee. This design was frustrated; but he was better treated after this attempt to recover his liberty, as the Scotch government, knowing what consequence his name was to their cause, was afraid of driving him to some desperate resolution. In the beginning of the following year Charles was crowned at Scone (Cromwell had possession of Edinburgh), and with the crown acquired some of the authority of a king. He took the field about July, 1651; his army was numerous and well ordered, his artillery excellent, and the position he occupied, on the banks of a deep river, almost impregnable. Cromwell in a few days would have been forced to retire from want of provision, and any check, in the unsettled state of the English nation, which was then wavering between him and the king, would have been ruin to his cause; but, by the treachery or cowardice

of General Brown, he was suffered to gain the passes of the river, and the situation of the two armies was reversed. Cromwell had now got behind Charles, so as to cut off his supplies of provisions, and therefore Charles adopted the bold resolution of marching into England, as he was now much nearer that country than the English army. Scotland could not maintain the war another year, and he was led to believe that the northern parts of England were well affected to his cause. He marched into England accordingly, but was disappointed in all his expectations. His English subjects did not flock to his standard, and his panic-struck soldiers fled before Cromwell at Worcester, almost at the first onset. The victory cost so little blood, that little cruelty was exercised by the victors towards the prisoners taken on the spot, and even the menial servants of the king were set free three days after the battle. But many of those who ran away were barbarously used by the country people: some were killed; some were starved to death; and others were bought and sold as slaves for small price! Those who were found in the town of Worcester (chiefly Charles's English adherents, for the Scotch had deserted the town,)

"were driven like cattle with a guard to London; many perished for want of food; and, being enclosed in little rooms till they were sold to the plantations for slaves, they died of all diseases."* Such are the horrors of civil war!

I think, Gerald, your young audience will now understand you if you begin the narrative of Charles's escape after the battle of Worcester, which Cromwell, in his puritanical cant, called "his crowning mercy."

Gerald. As I am quite a cavalier, I must have you all confess that the battle was not lost by any want of courage or conduct on the part of the king his troops were ill disciplined and disunited,—a motley crew, disagreeing in religious and political principles. "There were few to command, and none to obey." All the night previous to the battle Charles was on horseback, visiting the stations of the troops: he charged in person; and, during the engagement, rode up and down, hat in hand, entreating the soldiers to stand to their arms like men; and, finding their entreaties in vain, desired them "to shoot him, rather than keep him alive to see the consequences

• Clarendon.

of that fatal battle." The highlanders behaved like brave fellows, as they always do, fighting with the butt-end of their muskets when their ammunition was exhausted, but the cavalry gave way at once. At the first onset Charles met a party flying, and begged them to turn and follow him a little, that they might see there were no enemies pursuing! At six in the evening (3d September, 1651), the enemy having got possession of the town, he retreated from Worcester, through St. Martin's Gate, accompanied by the main body of horse, as yet safe and sound. "Though he could get few to fight with him, there were but too many to fly with him ;" and about half a mile from Worcester he halted on Barbon's Bridge, to consult with the Duke of Buckingham, Lord Wilmot, and others, whether it were not still possible to recover the day. They decided in the negative, and a retreat into Scotland was resolved on. This might have been effected if good order had been maintained ; but there was, as Lord Clarendon says, "paleness in every man's looks, and jealousy and confusion in their faces;" and the king's confidential friends agreeing that scarcely any thing worse could befal him than a return into Scotland, they