e
terror of the electorate. Early in 1586, accompanied by Herman Kloet, the
young and daring Dutch commandant of Neusz, he had swept down into the
Westphalian country, at the head of five hundred foot and five hundred
horse. On the 18th of March he captured the city of Werll by a neat
stratagem. The citizens, hemmed in on all sides by marauders, were in
want of many necessaries of life, among other things, of salt. Martin
had, from time to time, sent some of his soldiers into the place,
disguised as boors from the neighbourhood, and carrying bags of that
article. A pacific trading intercourse had thus been established between
the burghers within and the banditti without the gates. Agreeable
relations were formed within the walls, and a party of townsmen had
agreed to cooperate with the followers of Schenk. One morning a train of
waggons laden with soldiers neatly covered with salt, made their
appearance at the gate. At the same time a fire broke out most
opportunely within the town. The citizens busily employed themselves in
extinguishing the flames. The salted soldiers, after passing through the
gateway, sprang from the waggons, and mastered the watch. The town was.
carried at a blow. Some of the inhabitants were massacred as a warning to
the rest; others were taken prisoners and held for ransom; a few, more
fortunate, made their escape to the citadel. That fortress was stormed in
vain, but the city was thoroughly sacked. Every house was rifled of its
contents. Meantime Haultepenne collected a force of nearly four thousand
men, boors, citizens, and soldiers, and came to besiege Schenk in the
town, while, at the same time, attacks were made upon him from the
castle. It was impossible for him to hold the city, but he had completely
robbed it of every thing valuable. Accordingly he loaded a train of
waggons with his booty, took with him thirty of the magistrates as
hostages, with other wealthy citizens, and marching in good order against
Haultepenne, completely routed him, killing a number variously estimated
at from five hundred to two thousand, and effected his retreat,
desperately wounded in the thigh, but triumphant, and laden with the
spoils to Venlo on the Meuse, of which city he was governor.

"Surely this is a noble fellow, a worthy fellow," exclaimed Leicester,
who was filled with admiration at the bold marauder's progress, and vowed
that he was "the only soldier in truth that they had, for he was never
idle, and