stopped there; and they looked at me provokingly.
"Is she able to leap, sir? There is good take-off on this side of the
brook."
Mr. Faggus laughed very quietly, turning round to Winnie so that she
might enter into it. And she, for her part, seemed to know exactly
where the fun lay.
"Good tumble off, you mean, my boy. Well, there can be small harm to
thee. I am akin to thy family, and know the substance of their skulls."
"Let me get up," said I, waxing wroth, for reasons I can not tell
you, because they are too manifold; "take off your saddlebag things. I
will try not to squeeze her ribs in, unless she plays nonsense with me."
Then Mr. Faggus was up on his mettle at this proud speech of mine, and
John Fry was running up all the while, and Bill Dadds, and half a
dozen others. Tom Faggus gave one glance around, and then dropped all
regard for me. The high repute of his mare was at stake, and what was
my life compared to it? Through my defiance, and stupid ways, here was
I in a duello, and my legs not come to their strength yet, and my arms
as limp as herring.
Something of this occurred to him, even in his wrath with me, for he
spoke very softly to the filly, who now could scarce subdue herself;
but she drew in her nostrils, and breathed to his breath, and did all
she could to answer him.
"Not too hard, my dear," he said; "let him gently down on the mixen.
That will be quite enough." Then he turned the saddle off, and I was
up in a moment. She began at first so easily, and pricked her ears so
lovingly, and minced about as if pleased to find so light a weight
upon her, that I thought she knew I could ride a little, and feared to
show any capers. "Gee wugg, Polly!" cried I, for all the men were now
looking on, being then at the leaving-off time; "gee wugg, Polly, and
show what thou be'est made of." With that I plugged my heels into her,
and Billy Dadds flung his hat up.
Nevertheless, she outraged not, though her eyes were frightening Annie,
and John Fry took a pick to keep him safe; but she curbed to and fro
with her strong forearms rising like springs ingathered, waiting and
quivering grievously, and beginning to sweat about it. Then her master
gave a shrill, clear whistle, when her ears were bent toward him, and I
felt her form beneath me gathering up like whalebone, and her hind legs
coming under her, and I knew that I was in for it.
First she reared upright in the air, and struck me full on the nose
with her comb, till I bled worse than Robin Snell made me; and then
down with her fore feet deep in the straw, and with her hind feet
going to heaven. Finding me stick to her still like wax, for my mettle
was up as hers was, away she flew with me swifter than ever I went
before, or since, I trow.
She drove full head at the cob wall--"Oh, Jack, slip off!" screamed
Annie--then she turned like light, when I thought to crush her, and
ground my left knee against it. "Dear me!" I cried, for my breeches were
broken, and short words went the farthest--"if you kill me, you shall
die with me." Then she took the courtyard gate at a leap, knocking my
words between my teeth, and then right over a quickset hedge, as if the
sky were a breath to her; and away for the water meadows, while I lay on
her neck like a child and wished I had never been born.
Straight away, all in the front of the wind, and scattering clouds
around her, all I know of the speed we made was the frightful flash of
her shoulders, and her mane like trees in a tempest. I felt the earth
under us rushing away, and the air left far behind us, and my breath
came and went, and I prayed to God, and was sorry to be so late of it.
All the long swift while, without power of thought, I clung to her
crest and shoulders, and was proud of holding on so long, though sure
of being beaten. Then in her fury at feeling me still, she rushed at
another device for it, and leaped the wide water-trough sideways
across, to and fro, till no breath was left in me. The hazel boughs
took me too hard in the face, and the tall dog-briers got hold of me,
and the ache of my back was like crimping a fish, till I longed to
give it up, thoroughly beaten, and lie there and die in the cresses.
But there came a shrill whistle from up the home hill, where the
people had hurried to watch us, and the mare stopped as if with a
bullet, then set off for home with the speed of a swallow, and going
as smoothly and silently. I never had dreamed of such delicate motion,
fluent, and graceful, and ambient, soft as the breeze flitting over
the flowers, but swift as the summer lightning.
I sat up again, but my strength was all spent, and no time left to
recover it; and though she rose at our gate like a bird, I tumbled off
into the soft mud.
"Well done, lad," Mr. Faggus said, good-naturedly; for all were now
gathered round me, as I rose from the ground, somewhat tottering, and
miry, and crest-fallen, but otherwise none the worse (having fallen
upon my head, which is of uncommon substance); "not at all bad work,
my boy; we may teach you to ride by and by, I see; I thought not to
see you stick on so long--"
"I should have stuck on much longer, sir, if her sides had not been
wet. She was so slippery--"
"Boy, thou art right. She hath given many the slip. Ha! ha! Vex not,
Jack, that I laugh at thee. She is like a sweetheart to me, and better
than any of them be. It would have gone to my heart if thou hadst
conquered. None but I can ride my Winnie mare."
"Foul shame to thee, then, Tom Faggus," cried mother, coming up
suddenly, and speaking so that all were amazed, having never seen her
wrathful, "to put my boy, my boy, across her, as if his life were no
more than thine! A man would have taken thy mad horse and thee, and
flung them both into a horse pond--ay, and what's more, I'll have it
done now, if a hair of his head is injured. Oh, my boy, my boy! Put up
the other arm, Johnny." All the time mother was scolding so, she was
feeling me and wiping me; while Faggus tried to look greatly ashamed,
having sense of the ways of women.
"Only look at his jacket, mother!" cried Annie; "and a shilling's
worth gone from his smallclothes!"
"What care I for his clothes, thou goose? Take that, and heed thine own
a bit." And mother gave Annie a slap which sent her swinging up against
Mr. Faggus, and he caught her, and kissed and protected her; and she
looked at him very nicely, with great tears in her soft blue eyes.
"Oh, fie upon thee, fie upon thee," cried mother (being yet more vexed
with him, because she had beaten Annie); "after all we have done for
thee, and saved thy worthless neck--and to try to kill my son for me!
Never more shall horse of thine enter stable here, since these be thy
returns to me. Small thanks to you, John Fry, I say; much you care for
your master's son!"
"Well, missus, what could us do?" began John; "Jan wudd goo, now
wudd't her, Jem? And how was us--"
"Jan, indeed! Master John, if you please, to a lad of his years and
stature. And now, Tom Faggus, be off, if you please, and think
yourself lucky to go so."
Everybody looked at mother, to hear her talk like that, knowing how
quiet she was day by day, and how pleasant to be cheated. And the men
began to shoulder their shovels, both so as to be away from her, and
to go and tell their wives of it. Winnie, too, was looking at her,
being pointed at so much, and wondering if she had done amiss. And
then she came to me, and trembled, and stooped her head, and asked my
pardon, if she had been too proud with me.
"Winnie shall stop here to-night," said I, for Tom Faggus still said
never a word all the while, but began to buckle his things on.
"Mother, I tell you Winnie shall stop; else I will go away with her. I
never knew what it was, till now, to ride a horse worth riding."
"Young man," said Tom Faggus, still preparing sternly to depart, "you
know more about a horse than any man on Exmoor. Your mother may well
be proud of you, but she need have had no fear. As if I, Tom Faggus,
your father's cousin--and the only thing I am proud of--would ever
have let you mount my mare, which dukes and princes have vainly
sought, except for the courage in your eyes, and the look of your
father about you. I knew you could ride when I saw you, and rarely
you have conquered. But women don't understand us."
With that he fetched a heavy sigh, and feebly got upon Winnie's back,
and she came to say farewell to me. He lifted his hat to my mother
with a glance of sorrow, but never a word, and to me he said: "Open
the gate, Cousin John, if you please. You have beaten her so, that she
cannot leap it, poor thing."
But, before he was truly gone out of our yard, my mother came softly
after him, with her afternoon apron across her eyes, and one hand
ready to offer him. Nevertheless, he made as if he had not seen her,
though he let his horse go slowly. "Stop, Cousin Tom," my mother said,
"a word with you before you go."
* * * * *
"Lorna Doone," by Richard Blackmore, from which this extract is taken,
is justly regarded as one of the few really great romances written in
the latter part of the nineteenth century. It is a story of the times
of Charles II., and culminates about the time of the rebellion of
Monmouth in 1685. The narrative is supposed to be related by a sturdy
farmer of Exmoor, named John Ridd, who is the hero of the tale. The
main part of the action centers round the deeds of a band of outlaws
called the Doones, who had established themselves in a narrow valley
of Exmoor, from whence they levied tribute upon their neighbors and
bade defiance to the officers of the law. The quaint and homely style
in which the story is written wins the admiration of all readers, and
gives to the work an indefinable charm.
THE GLORY OF GOD.
The heavens declare the glory of God;
And the firmament sheweth his handywork.
Day unto day uttereth speech,
And night unto night sheweth knowledge,
There is no speech nor language,
Where their voice is not heard.
Their line is gone out through all the earth,
And their words to the end of the world.
In them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun,
Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
And rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race.
His going forth is from the end of the heaven,
And his circuit unto the ends of it:
And there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.
The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul;
The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple;
The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart;
The commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes;
The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring forever;
The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.
More to be desired are they than gold; yea than much fine gold;
Sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.
Moreover by them is thy servant warned;
And in keeping of them there is great reward.
Who can understand his errors?
Cleanse thou me from secret faults.
Keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins;
Let them not have dominion over me:
Then shall I be upright, and I shall be
Innocent from the great transgression.
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart,
Be acceptable in thy sight,
O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer.
--_From the Psalms of David._
THE BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN.
The Battle of Bannockburn, in Scotland, was one of the most famous in
history. It was fought June 24th, 1314, between Robert Bruce of
Scotland and Edward II. of England. The army of Bruce consisted of
30,000 men; that of Edward of 100,000, of whom 52,000 were archers.
The story of the battle is thus described by Sir Walter Scott in his
"Tales of a Grandfather":
Now when Sir Philip Mowbray, the governor of Stirling, came to
London, to tell the King, that Stirling, the last Scottish town of
importance which remained in possession of the English, was to be
surrendered if it were not relieved by force of arms before
midsummer, then all the English nobles called out, it would be a
sin and shame to permit the fair conquest which Edward the First
had made, to be forfeited to the Scots for want of fighting. It
was, therefore, resolved, that the King should go himself to
Scotland, with as great forces as he could possibly muster.
King Edward the Second, therefore, assembled one of the greatest
armies which a King of England ever commanded. There were troops
brought from all his dominions. Many brave soldiers from the
French provinces which the King of England possessed in
France,--many Irish, many Welsh,--and all the great English nobles
and barons, with their followers, were assembled in one great army.
King Robert the Bruce summoned all his nobles and barons to join
him, when he heard of the great preparations which the King of
England was making. They were not so numerous as the English by many
thousand men. In fact, his whole army did not very much exceed
thirty thousand, and they were much worse armed than the wealthy
Englishmen; but then, Robert, who was at their head, was one of the
most expert generals of the time; and the officers he had under him,
were his brother Edward, his nephew Randolph, his faithful follower
the Douglas, and other brave and experienced leaders, who commanded
the same men that had been accustomed to fight and gain victories
under every disadvantage of situation and numbers.
The King, on his part, studied how he might supply, by address and
stratagem, what he wanted in numbers and strength. He knew the
superiority of the English, both in their heavy-armed cavalry,
which were much better mounted and armed than that of the Scots,
and in their archers, who were better trained than any others in
the world. Both these advantages he resolved to provide against.
With this purpose, he led his army down into a plain near
Stirling, called the Park, near which, and beneath it, the English
army must needs pass through a boggy country, broken with water
courses, while the Scots occupied hard dry ground. He then caused
all the ground upon the front of his line of battle, where cavalry
were likely to act, to be dug full of holes, about as deep as a
man's knee. They were filled with light brushwood, and the turf
was laid on the top, so that it appeared a plain field, while in
reality it was all full of these pits as a honeycomb is of holes.
He also, it is said, caused steel spikes, called calthrops, to be
scattered up and down in the plain, where the English cavalry were
most likely to advance, trusting in that manner to lame and
destroy their horses.
When the Scottish army was drawn up, the line stretched north and
south. On the south, it was terminated by the banks of the brook
called Bannockburn, which are so rocky, that no troops could attack
them there. On the left, the Scottish line extended near to the town
of Stirling. Bruce reviewed his troops very carefully; all the
useless servants, drivers of carts, and such like, of whom there
were very many, he ordered to go behind a height, afterwards, in
memory of the event, called the Gillies' hill, that is, the
Servants' hill. He then spoke to the soldiers, and expressed his
determination to gain the victory, or to lose his life on the field
of battle. He desired that all those who did not propose to fight to
the last, should leave the field before the battle began, and that
none should remain except those who were determined to take the
issue of victory or death, as God should send it.
When the main body of his army was thus placed in order, the King
posted Randolph, with a body of horse, near to the Church of St.
Ninian's, commanding him to use the utmost diligence to prevent
any succors from being thrown into Stirling Castle. He then
dispatched James of Douglas, and Sir Robert Keith, the Mareschal
of the Scottish army, in order that they might survey, as nearly
as they could, the English force, which was now approaching from
Falkirk. They returned with information, that the approach of that
vast host was one of the most beautiful and terrible sights which
could be seen,--that the whole country seemed covered with men at
arms on horse and foot,--that the number of standards, banners,
and pennons (all flags of different kinds) made so gallant a show,
that the bravest and most numerous host in Christendom might be
alarmed to see King Edward moving against them.
It was upon the twenty-third of June (1314) the King of Scotland
heard the news, that the English army were approaching Stirling.
He drew out his army, therefore, in the order which he had before
resolved on. After a short time, Bruce, who was looking out
anxiously for the enemy, saw a body of English cavalry trying to
get into Stirling from the eastward. This was the Lord Clifford,
who, with a chosen body of eight hundred horse had been detached
to relieve the castle.
"See, Randolph," said the King to his nephew, "there is a rose
fallen from your chaplet." By this he meant that Randolph had lost
some honor, by suffering the enemy to pass where he had been
stationed to hinder them. Randolph made no reply, but rushed
against Clifford with little more than half his number. The Scots
were on foot. The English turned to charge them with their lances,
and Randolph drew up his men in close order to receive the onset.
He seemed to be in so much danger, that Douglas asked leave of the
King to go and assist him. The King refused him permission.
"Let Randolph," he said, "redeem his own fault; I can not break
the order of battle for his sake." Still the danger appeared
greater, and the English horse seemed entirely to encompass the
small handful of Scottish infantry. "So please you," said Douglas
to the King, "my heart will not suffer me to stand idle and see
Randolph perish--I must go to his assistance." He rode off
accordingly; but long before they had reached the place of combat,
they saw the English horses galloping off, many with empty saddles.
"Halt!" said Douglas to his men, "Randolph has gained the day;
since we were not soon enough to help him in the battle, do not
let us lessen his glory by approaching the field." Now, that was
nobly done; especially as Douglas and Randolph were always
contending which should rise highest in the good opinion of the
King and the nation.
The van of the English army now came in sight, and a number of
their bravest knights drew near to see what the Scots were doing.
They saw King Robert dressed in his armor, and distinguished by a
gold crown, which he wore over his helmet. He was not mounted on
his great war horse, because he did not expect to fight that
evening. But he rode on a little pony up and down the ranks of his
army, putting his men in order, and carried in his hand a short
battle ax made of steel. When the King saw the English horsemen
draw near, he advanced a little before his own men, that he might
look at them more nearly.
There was a knight among the English, called Sir Henry de Bohun,
who thought this would be a good opportunity to gain great fame to
himself, and put an end to the war, by killing King Robert. The
King being poorly mounted, and having no lance, Bohun galloped on
him suddenly and furiously, thinking, with his long spear, and his
tall powerful horse, easily to bear him down to the ground. King
Robert saw him, and permitted him to come very near, then suddenly
turned his pony a little to one side, so that Sir Henry missed him
with the lance point, and was in the act of being carried past him
by the career of his horse. But as he passed, King Robert rose up
in his stirrups, and struck Sir Henry on the head with his battle
ax so terrible a blow, that it broke to pieces his iron helmet as
if it had been a nutshell, and hurled him from his saddle. He was
dead before he reached the ground. This gallant action was blamed
by the Scottish leaders, who thought Bruce ought not to have
exposed himself to so much danger, when the safety of the whole
army depended on him. The King only kept looking at his weapon,
which was injured by the force of the blow, and said, "I have
broken my good battle ax."
The next morning, being the twenty-fourth of June, at break of day,
the battle began in terrible earnest. The English as they advanced
saw the Scots getting into line. The Abbot of Inchaffray walked
through their ranks barefooted, and exhorted them to fight for their
freedom. They kneeled down as he passed, and prayed to heaven for
victory. King Edward, who saw this, called out, "They kneel
down--they are asking forgiveness." "Yes," said a celebrated English
baron, called Ingelram de Umphraville, "but they ask it from God,
not from us--these men will conquer, or die upon the field."
The English King ordered his men to begin the battle. The archers
then bent their bows, and began to shoot so closely together, that
the arrows fell like flakes of snow on a Christmas day. But Bruce,
as I told you before, was prepared for them. He had in readiness a
body of men at arms well mounted, who rode at full gallop among the
archers, and as they had no weapons save their bows and arrows,
which they could not use when they were attacked hand to hand, they
were cut down in great numbers, and thrown into total confusion.
The fine English cavalry then advanced to support their archers,
and to attack the Scottish line. But coming over the ground, which
was dug full of pits, the horses fell into these holes, and the
riders lay tumbling about, without any means of defense, and
unable to rise, from the weight of their armor. The Englishmen
began to fall into general disorder; and the Scottish King,
bringing up more of his forces, attacked and pressed them still
more closely.
On a sudden, while the battle was obstinately maintained on both
sides, an event happened which decided the victory. The servants
and attendants on the Scottish camp had, as I told you, been sent
behind the army to a place afterwards called the Gillies' hill.
But when they saw that their masters were likely to gain the day,
they rushed from their place of concealment with such weapons as
they could get, that they might have their share in the victory
and in the spoil. The English, seeing them come suddenly over the
hill, mistook this disorderly rabble for a new army coming up to
sustain the Scots, and, losing all heart, began to shift every man
for himself. Edward himself left the field as fast as he could
ride. A valiant knight, Sir Giles de Argentine, attended the King
till he got him out of the press of the combat. But he would
retreat no farther. "It is not my custom," he said, "to fly." With
that he took leave of the King, set spurs to horse, and calling
out his war cry of Argentine! Argentine! he rushed into the
thickest of the Scottish ranks, and was killed.
Edward first fled to Stirling Castle, and entreated admittance;
but Sir Philip Mowbray, the governor, reminded the fugitive
sovereign that he was obliged to surrender the castle next day, so
Edward was fain to fly through the Torwood, closely pursued by
Douglas with a body of cavalry. An odd circumstance happened
during the chase, which showed how loosely some of the Scottish
barons of that day held their political opinions: As Douglas was
riding furiously after Edward, he met a Scottish knight, Sir
Laurence Abernethy, with twenty horse. Sir Laurence had hitherto
owned the English interest, and was bringing this band of
followers to serve King Edward's army. But learning from Douglas
that the English King was entirely defeated, he changed sides on
the spot, and was easily prevailed upon to join Douglas in
pursuing the unfortunate Edward, with the very followers whom he
had been leading to join his standard.
Douglas and Abernethy followed King Edward as far as Dunbar, where
the English had still a friend, in the governor, Patrick, Earl of
March. The Earl received Edward in his forlorn condition, and
furnished him with a fishing skiff, or small ship, in which he
escaped to England, having entirely lost his fine army, and a
great number of his bravest nobles.
The English never before or afterwards, whether in France or
Scotland, lost so dreadful a battle as that of Bannockburn, nor
did the Scots ever gain one of the same importance.
Such is the story that is told by Sir Walter Scott in his "Tales of a
Grandfather." It will be interesting now to read Burns's poem
beginning, "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled," which we can easily
imagine to be Bruce's address to his men at the beginning of the great
fight. Read also Sir Walter Scott's metrical description of the
battle, in the long poem entitled "The Lord of the Isles."
THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.