tle
apart from the rest, and out of the line of the charge of cavalry, threw
down their arms and surrendered at discretion, upon the approach of the
Duke of Monmouth at the head of the infantry. That mild-tempered nobleman
instantly allowed them the quarter which they prayed for; and, galloping
about through the field, exerted himself as much to stop the slaughter as
he had done to obtain the victory. While busied in this humane task he
met with General Dalzell, who was encouraging the fierce Highlanders and
royal volunteers to show their zeal for King and country, by quenching
the flame of the rebellion with the blood of the rebels.

"Sheathe your sword, I command you, General!" exclaimed the Duke, "and
sound the retreat. Enough of blood has been shed; give quarter to the
King's misguided subjects."

"I obey your Grace," said the old man, wiping his bloody sword and
returning it to the scabbard; "but I warn you, at the same time, that
enough has not been done to intimidate these desperate rebels. Has not
your Grace heard that Basil Olifant has collected several gentlemen and
men of substance in the west, and is in the act of marching to join
them?"

"Basil Olifant?" said the Duke; "who, or what is he?"

"The next male heir to the last Earl of Torwood. He is disaffected to
government from his claim to the estate being set aside in favour of Lady
Margaret Bellenden; and I suppose the hope of getting the inheritance has
set him in motion."

"Be his motives what they will," replied Monmouth, "he must soon disperse
his followers, for this army is too much broken to rally again.
Therefore, once more, I command that the pursuit be stopped."

"It is your Grace's province to command, and to be responsible for your
commands," answered Dalzell, as he gave reluctant orders for checking the
pursuit.

But the fiery and vindictive Grahame was already far out of hearing of
the signal of retreat, and continued with his cavalry an unwearied and
bloody pursuit, breaking, dispersing, and cutting to pieces all the
insurgents whom they could come up with.

Burley and Morton were both hurried off the field by the confused tide of
fugitives. They made some attempt to defend the streets of the town of
Hamilton; but, while labouring to induce the fliers to face about and
stand to their weapons. Burley received a bullet which broke his
sword-arm.

"May the hand be withered that shot the shot!" he exclaimed, as the sword
which he was