his own house, when his wife saw, in its proper
light, the true character of her situation. Her husband had gone on a
perilous enterprise. He might perish. She had perhaps got her last look
of him who was dearest to her bosom. That look was in anger. The idea
was terrible. Those who know the strength and delicacy of the feelings
of true affection may conceive the situation of Margaret Hume. Unable to
control herself, she threw her child into its crib, and rushed out of
the house. One parting glance of reconciliation was all she wanted. She
hurried through the town with an excited and terrified aspect, searching
everywhere for her husband. He had departed with his companions; and
Margaret was left in the agony of one whose sorrow is destined to be
increased by the workings of an excited fancy, and the remorseful
feelings of self-impeachment.

In the meantime, Hume having joined his companions, proceeded to the
main army of the king, which was encamped on the hill of Flodden, lying
on the left of the river Till. The party with which he was associated
put themselves under the command of Lord Home; who, with the Earls of
Crawford and Montrose, led the left of the van of the Scottish army.
This part of the king's troops, it is well known, was opposed to Sir
Edmund Howard. They were early engaged, and fought so successfully that
Howard soon stood in need of succour from Lord Dacre, to save him from
being speared on the field.

In this struggle Alexander Hume displayed the greatest prowess. He was
seen in every direction dealing out death wherever he went. He was not,
however, alone. His companions kept well up to him; and, in particular,
one individual, who had joined the party as they approached the field,
fought with a bravery equal to that of Hume himself. That person kept
continually by his side, and seemed to consider the brave Borderer as
his chosen companion-in-arms, whom he was bound to defend through all
the perils of the fight. A leather haubergeon and an iron helmet, in
which there was placed a small white feather, plucked from a cock's
wing, constituted the armour of this brave seconder of Hume's gallantry.
When Hume was attacked by the English with more force than his
individual arm could sustain, no one of his companions was more ready to
bring him aid than this individual. On several occasions he may be said
to have saved his life, for Hume's recklessness drew him often into the
very midst of the fight, where