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there was light enough still for the work of destruction to proceed, and that mighty host--46,000 men, children of one race, subjects of one king-to mingle in bloody strife, and lay thousands at rest, “to sleep the sleep that knows no waking," on that fatal night in July, on Long Marston Moor. It has been surmised, with considerable probability, that a stray cannon shot, which proved fatal to young Walton, Oliver Cromwell's nephew, by rousing in him every slumbering feeling of wrath and indignation, mainly contributed to bring on the general engagement. Certain it is that he was the first to arrange his men for decisive attack. We suppose it was during the period of inaction, in the evening, that Prince Rupert examined a stray prisoner whom his party had taken, as to who were the leaders of the opposing army; the man answered, “General Leven, Lord Fairfax, and Sir Thomas Fairfax." “Is Cromwell there?” exclaimed the Prince, interrupting him ; and being answered that he was, “Will they fight?” said he ; " if they will, they shall have fighting enough.” Then the prisoner was released, and going back to his own army told the generals what had passed, and Cromwell that the Prince had asked for him in particular, and had said, “They should have fighting enough." “And,” exclaimed Cromwell, “if it please God, so they shall !”

It was, then, within a quarter to seven on that evening of July, when the vast army, that spread along the wide area of Marston Moor, began to be stirred

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by rapid movements to the front. Along a considerable part of the ground that lay immediately between the advanced posts of the Parliamentary forces, there ran a broad and deep ditch, which served to protect either party from sudden surprise.' Towards this, it has been said by some that a body of Cromwell's cavalry was seen to move rapidly from the rear, followed by a part of the infantry. Prince. Rupert met this promptly by bringing up a body of musketeers, who opened on them a murderous fire as they formed in front of the ditch which proteted Rupert's musketeers from the cavalry, while a range of batteries advantageously planted on a height to the rear, kept up an incessant cannonading on the whole line.

It was the first meeting of Cromwell and Rupert. And on Cromwell, as we have seen, descends the glory of the victory. His eye detected the movements in the Royalist army. He and his Ironsides (first named Ironsides on this famous field) broke the cavalry of General Goring. The Scots, indeed, had been defeated by Rupert early in the battle. He poured upon them a torrent of irresistible fire. But while he was confident that the field was won, the Ironsides again poured over Rupert's own cavalry, and swept them from the field.

The victory was complete, the Royalist army was entirely broken and dispersed ; fifteen hundred of their number remained prisoners. The whole of their arms and artillery, their tents, baggage, and military chest remained the spoils of the victors. Prince Rupert's own standard, and more than a hundred others, had fallen into their hands; and York, which Rupert had entered only three days before in defiance of their arms, now lay at their mercy. A strange and fearful scene spread out beneath the sky on that summer, now dark with midnight storm, on Long Marston Moor. Five thousand men lay dead or dying there ; born of the same lineage, and subjects of one king, who had yet fallen by one another's hands. It was the bloodiest battle of the whole war, and irretrievably ruined the king's hopes in the north.

Long after midnight, Rupert and Newcastle reentered York. They exchanged messages without meeting, Rupert intimating his intention of departing southward on the following morning with as many of the horse and foot as he had kept together; and Newcastle returning word that he intended immediately to go to the sea-side, and embark for the Continent-a desertion rendered justifiable when we remember that his advice had been contemptuously slighted, and his command superseded by the rash nephew of Charles, acting under the king's orders. Each kept his word, and in a fortnight thereafter York was in possession of their opponents.

Many representatives of noble houses lay stretched stark and cold on the dreadful field. The eminent Roman Catholic family of Townley, of Burnley, in Lancashire, have a tradition of the day. Mary, daughter of Sir Francis Trapper, had married Charles Townley; he was one of those killed in this battle. During the engagement, his wife was with her father at Knaresborough, there she heard of her husband's fate, and came upon the field the next morning to search for his body, while the attendants of the camp were stripping and burying the dead. Here she was accosted by a general officer, to whom she told her melancholy story; he heard her with great tenderness, but he earnestly implored her to leave a scene not only so distressing to witness, but where she might also herself be insulted. She complied, and he called for a trooper, mounted her on horseback in the trooper's company, and sent her back in safety to Knaresborough. Inquiring of the trooper, on the way, the name of the officer to whom she had been indebted, she learned that it was Cromwell! This story is preserved in the archives of the Townley family. She survived, a widow, until 1690; died at Townley, and was buried at Bui nley at the age of ninety-one. And here is a letter from Cromwell, full of tender

The strong man could weep with those who wept. And you notice, although he had turned on that field the fortunes of England, he makes no mention of himself, nor any mention of a severe wound he had received in the neck. D’Aubigné says it bears indubitable marks of a soldier's bluntness, but also of the sympathy of a child of God. In Oliver these two elements, were never far apart. It was addressed to his brother-in-law, Colonel Valentine Walton, the husband of his younger sister Margaret, and contained


the account of the victory, and of his own son's being among the slain, the same whose fate, it is thought, by rousing Oliver to the charging point, brought on the general engagement.

" 5th July, 1644. “ DEAR SIR,

"It's our duty to sympathise in all mercies, and to praise the Lord together in all chastisements or trials, so that we may sorrow together.

“ Truly England and the Church of God hath had a great favour from the Lord, in this great victory given unto us, such as the like never was since this war began. It had all the evidence of an absolute victory, obtained, by the Lord's blessing, upon the godless party principally. We never charged but we routed the enemy. The left wing, which I commanded, being our own horse, saving a few Scots in our rear, beat all the prince's horse. God made them as stubble to our swords. We charged their regiments of foot with our horse, and routed all we charged. The particulars I cannot relate now ; but I believe, of twenty thousand, the prince hath not four thousand left. Give glory, all the glory, to God.

“Sir, God hath taken away your eldest son by a cannon shot. It brake his leg. We were necessitated to have it cut off, whereof he died.

Sir, you know my own trials this way ; but the Lord supported me in this—that the Lord took him 1 into the happiness we all pant for, and live for.

· His own son, Oliver, who had been killed not long before.

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