ereupon the
engagement became general, and both sides fought 'in the dark for some
two hours, till we beat them from the hedges and within their
barricadoes, which were very strong, and where some of their men
disputed the entrance of our forces with push of pike and butt-end of
musket for a long time.' At length the Parliamentary troops prevailed,
and their horse 'chased the enemy through the town.' Lord Hopton,
bringing up the rear, had his horse shot dead under him in the middle of
the town, but, in spite of the fact that he was slightly wounded, he
made yet another effort to rally his troops, and they, 'facing about in
the street, caused our foot to retreat.' Then a body of horse dashed up
with a vehemence that the Royalists could not stand against, and they
were obliged to fly; 'one of the officers publicly reporting,' says
Clarendon bitterly, 'lest the soldiers should not make haste enough in
running away, that he saw their general run through the body with a
pike.'

Scarcely were the Parliamentarians in possession of the town, when a
frightful explosion occurred. The church, which unknown to them, Lord
Hopton had used as a powder-magazine, was blown up and about two hundred
prisoners whom the Roundheads had confined in the church were killed. In
his account of the disaster, Sprigg, who was obviously, from passages in
his writings, a man of warm feelings, and a clergyman by profession,
refers very cheerfully to the fact that 'few were slain besides the
enemy's (that were prisoners in the church where the magazine was blown
up), and most of our men that guarded them, who were killed and buried
in the ruins,' and not for one moment does the melancholy fate of the
many victims seem to damp his joy.

The victory was a very important one, and a public thanksgiving was held
in consequence--indeed, this was the last real resistance made by the
Royalists in the West.

The church has been very unfortunate, for since it was rebuilt in 1651
the tower has been blown down, and it fell through the roof, doing a
good deal of damage. An old print shows this tower to have been a
wonderful erection of slates and tiles, projecting eaves, and irregular
gables, surmounted by a little dome, with a weathercock on the top of
all. It was replaced by a slender, tapering, but more conventional
spire.

Margaret, Countess of Richmond, and mother of Henry VII, lived here for
some time, and left a generous gift, for, 'pitying the long path