the
cavalry, many of the horses being large untrained colts, and began to
feel less confident of success till he recollected that probably the
militia regiments on the king's side were much in the same condition,
and, moreover, that they were well-affected towards the Duke. The army
marched slowly and leisurely along till they reached Axminster, where
news was brought to the Duke that Albemarle was advancing with a large
body of militia to attack them. Monmouth skilfully drew up his forces;
the four field-pieces were planted so as to command the road along which
the Royal troops were approaching, while the thick hedges which on each
side overhung the narrow lanes were lined with musketeers; the cavalry
were held in reserve.

"Here they come, my lads," cried Stephen Battiscombe, as Albemarle's men
were seen in the distance. "Steady, now; if they venture to attack us,
we shall soon send them to the right-about."

At first the enemy came on boldly and rapidly. While still beyond
musket range they were seen to halt, then suddenly to retreat. The
insurgents on this dashed forward. As they heard the cheers and shouts
of Monmouth's men, throwing down their arms they took to flight, and
scampered off in all directions across the country. They were pursued
for some distance, and coats, muskets, and pikes were picked up by the
victorious insurgents.

"Now, surely the Duke of Monmouth will follow up the pursuit, and we
shall probably capture Exeter without a blow," observed Stephen.

"No chance of that, I fear," answered his brother Andrew, who was riding
by his side. "Hark! there is the recall, and it is a signal our raw
fellows will be glad enough to obey."

This last remark was too true. The Duke of Monmouth, probably unwilling
to employ his recruits in any hazardous service till they were better
trained, thought it wise to be satisfied with the advantage he had
already gained, and continued his march towards Taunton, and that
evening reached the neighbourhood of Chard, where the troops encamped in
a meadow outside the town. The Duke was now near the estates of those
friends who had entertained him so sumptuously a few years before, and
he naturally looked forward to being joined by a number of those
gentlemen and their retainers; but only one, John Speke, the son of Mr
George Speke of White Lackington Hall, arrived at the camp, with forty
horsemen of no very imposing appearance from Chard. The next morning
the