e said that a prophet and deliverer had risen amongst them, and
others an ambitious hypocrite and a tyrant, Clennel armed a body of his
dependants, and hastened to the assistance of his sovereign, leaving his
wife and his newly-found daughter with the promise of a speedy return.

It is unnecessary to describe all that he did or encountered during the
civil wars. He had been a zealous partizan of the first Charles, and he
fought for the fortunes of his son to the last. He was present at the
battle of Worcester, which Cromwell calls his "crowning mercy," in the
September of 1651, where the already dispirited royalists were finally
routed; and he fought by the side of the king until the streets were
heaped with dead; and when Charles fled, he, with others, accompanied
him to the borders of Staffordshire.

Having bid the young prince an affectionate farewell, Clennel turned
back, with the intention of proceeding on his journey, on the following
day, to Northumberland, though he was aware, that, from the part which
he had taken in the royal cause, even his person was in danger. Yet the
desire again to behold his wife and daughter overcame his fears, and the
thought of meeting them in some degree consoled him for the fate of his
prince, and the result of the struggle in which he had been engaged.

But he had not proceeded far when he was met by two men dressed as
soldiers of the Parliamentary army--the one a veteran with grey hairs,
and the other a youth. The shades of night had set in; but the latter he
instantly recognized as a young soldier whom he had that day wounded in
the streets of Worcester.

"Stand!" said the old man, as they met him; and the younger drew his
sword.

"If I stand!" exclaimed Clennel, "it shall not be when an old man and a
boy command me." And, following their example, he unsheathed his sword.

"Boy!" exclaimed the youth; "whom call ye boy?--think ye, because ye
wounded me this morn, that fortune shall aye sit on your arm?--yield or
try."

They made several thrusts at each other, and the old man, as an
indifferent spectator, stood looking on. But the youth, by a dexterous
blow, shivered the sword in Clennel's hand, and left him at his mercy.

"Now yield ye," he exclaimed; "the chance is mine now--in the morning it
was thine."

"Ye seem a fair foe," replied Clennel, "and loath am I to yield, but
that I am weaponless."

"Despatch him at once!" growled the old man. "If he spilled your blood
i