ir Marmaduke Langdale, they marched into
Lancashire full of zeal and confidence, but negligent of that
discipline, and inattentive to those military expedients by which alone
(considering the enemy with whom they had to contend) the least shadow
of success could be acquired. In vigilance, activity, and prompt
decision, Cromwell was the very prototype of that man who has changed
the aspect of the present times. Various armies were collected with
almost magical celerity, and provided with every necessary for their own
comfort and the annoyance of the foe; and scarcely had the Loyalists in
the west, north, and east brought their raw recruits into the field,
before a well-appointed body of veterans was arrayed against them, ready
to cut off their resources, and give them battle. Cromwell himself took
the command of the northern division; and without delaying his grand
design, by stopping to subdue Pontefract Castle, as his more timid
counsellors advised, he marched immediately to attack the Scotch army,
though with inferior numbers, and put them to the rout, after having
first defeated their English allies. Both the generals were taken
prisoners. Sir Marmaduke afterwards escaped; but the Duke suffered on
the scaffold shortly after the Royal Martyr whom, with late repentance,
he vainly attempted to save.

The scene of this contest was so near Ribblesdale that the engagement
was plainly seen from the hills I have just spoken of, where Dr.
Beaumont and his family, with the fervent piety, though not with the
success of Moses, held up their hands in prayer to the God of battle.
The result disappointed their ardent hopes; and the more grateful duty
of thanksgiving was thus changed to humble resignation. The fugitive
Loyalists and their vindictive pursuers scoured along the valleys. The
present situation of the Beaumonts was highly unsafe; and they eagerly
hurried along to regain the melancholy shelter of their ruinous abode.

The shades of evening fell as they entered Waverly Park, agonized with
sorrow and commiseration of the calamities they had beheld. A squadron
of cavalry rode rapidly by them, which they guessed were part of the
King's northern horse, so celebrated in the early periods of the civil
war. Isabel's anxiety to see if they were closely pursued conquered her
female terrors. She ran from her friends and climbed a little eminence,
by which means she discovered a sight which roused the liveliest
feelings of compassio