only such as were men of religion; he did not care about anything else. Some were surprised at the sort of men whom he raised to be captains, but he did not mind their being plain men, if they were only patient, faithful, and conscientious. "Better have a plain russet-coated captain," he said, “that knows what he fights for, and loves what he knows, than what you call a gentleman, and is nothing else. I honour a gentleman that is so indeed."

His rules were very strict. His Ironsides must show by their lives that they were men of religion. No drinking or swearing were allowed, and if any one so far forgot himself as to swear, he at once paid a fine of twelve pence. Cromwell was careful, too, to see that their arms, their horses, and their harness, were all good and well made, for he said, "If a man has not good weapons, horse, and harness, he is as nought."

He was successful in finding the sort of men he needed, and in a few months had a troop of a thousand horse-honest, godly men, of whom he said a few were better than numbers. He looked upon his regiment with delight; clad in their plain, close-fitting, buff-leather jerkins, they were a beautiful sight in his eyes. He called them "honest, religious, valiant, a lovely company, honest sober Christians, who expect to be used as men." His great difficulty was to get money to pay them. He could not get enough even to clothe them, and was afraid that this would soon discourage them. They were not allowed to enrich themselves by plunder. Cromwell gave as much of his own money as he could to the cause, but he had little to give, for his estate was small. So he had to write again and

P

again, imploring that the money due to his men should be

sent.

The first great battle, at which it was seen what Cromwell's Ironsides could do, was fought at Marston Moor on the 2d of July 1644. The army of the Parliament, together with the Scots, who had come to the aid of the Parliament, was besieging Charles I.'s general, the Marquis of Newcastle, in York. When the fiery Prince Rupert, Charles's nephew, heard how hard Newcastle was pressed, he hastened to his assistance. He saved York, but, not content with that, he was determined to fight a battle. He knew that the enemy was encamped on Marston Moor, seven miles from York; and though Newcastle was very unwilling, he insisted upon marching out of York to attack them. Prince Rupert left York first, and Newcastle soon followed in his coach-and-six. The Parliament's army had already marched away, but when they heard that Prince Rupert was coming to give them battle, they turned back to meet him.

The two armies drew up on either side of a long ditch, which went across the moor. It was getting late before the Royalists were ready, and Prince Rupert thought it was too late to fight that day, so Newcastle retired to sleep in his coach. Not till five o'clock were the Roundheads all ready in their places. It was a close and sultry day, with now and then a shower of rain. No sun shone out to light up the steel which covered the heads of the men and of their horses. The two armies stood and stared at one another across the ditch, and neither would make the first move forwards. Now and

then, as they stood amongst the waving corn, the Parliament soldiers whiled away the time by singing a psalm. The long summer's day was drawing to a close; it was seven o'clock-two hours more and the daylight would be gone. Then at last the order was given to the Parliament's army to advance. They moved forward through the corn like so many thick clouds, and crossed the ditch without difficulty. The battle closed in a terrible confusion. The two bodies of horse were locked together motionless, and hacked at one another with their swords. Prince Rupert did not as usual carry all before him. On the left the Roundheads were successful, and Rupert's horse gave way before the Ironsides, who earned their name that day. But the right wing, under the command of the noblest of the Parliament's generals, Fairfax, was beaten back by Newcastle's famous Whitecoats. These men had earned their name because they begged to have their coats made up without waiting for the cloth to be dyed, saying that they would soon dye them in the blood of their enemies. Only Fairfax's own regiment was successful, and drove the Royalist cavalry in front of them along the road to York. Fairfax turned to see what had become of the rest of his men, and found himself alone in the midst of the enemy. Then he took out of his hat the white handkerchief which the Parliament soldiers wore as their colour that day, for when Englishmen fought against Englishmen, some sign was needed. to distinguish friend from foe, and he rode safely across the field to the other wing.

It seemed as if the battle was lost for the Parliament.

Evening was closing in, and the thick clouds of smoke which hung around darkened the air. Then it was that Cromwell turned back from pursuing Prince Rupert's cavalry, and attacked the rear of the men who had routed Fairfax's wing. None could stand before his Ironsides. He said afterwards, "They were as stubble to our swords. We charged their regiments of foot with our horse, and routed all we charged. Give glory, all the glory to God." Only the Whitecoats would not fly. Defending themselves in a small field as best they could, they refused to yield to any one. When at last the Roundheads forced their way into the field, only thirty Whitecoats were found living.

The fight and slaughter went on for two hours after sunset. It was one of the bloodiest battles of the whole war. Fairfax tried to stop the slaughter, and, though wounded himself, rode all over the field to bid his men 66

spare the poor deluded countrymen." Those of the Royalists who could escape fled to York. It was ten o'clock, and too late to pursue them. Four thousand men lay dead upon the field, and the enemy's guns and arms and standards fell into the hands of the Roundheads.

Cromwell had already lost two sons in battle; at Marston Moor a nephew of his was killed. He himself wrote to tell the young man's father the sad news. He began his letter by speaking of the wonderful victory, and then he said, "Sir, God hath taken away your eldest son by a cannon shot. . . You know my own trials in this way, but the Lord supported me with this, that the Lord took him into the happiness we all pant

for and live for. There is your precious child full of glory, never to know sin or sorrow any more. He was a gallant young man, exceeding gracious. . . Before his death he was so full of comfort. . . he could not express it. It was so great above his pain. A little after he said one thing lay upon his spirit. I asked him what that was. He told me it was that God had not suffered him to be any more the executioner of his enemies. At his fall I am informed, he bade them open to the right and left that he might see the rogues run. Truly he was exceedingly beloved in the army of all that knew him. . . You have cause to bless the Lord. glorious saint in heaven."

He is a

XLI.

PRINCE CHARLES'S ESCAPE AFTER THE

BATTLE OF WORCESTER.

A. D. 1651.

THE year after Charles I. was beheaded, the Scots invited his eldest son Charles to come to Scotland and be their King. At the head of an army, made up partly of Scots and partly of his English followers, Charles pushed his way into England with a wild hope that many of the English would join him, and he would be able to reach London. He and his troops advanced as far as Worcester, and there, worn out by their