t--

"We will die for his Majesty and your honour:--God save the king!"

Gideon's countenance grew terrible, and he seemed as though suffering
under some violent excitement. Lifting up his hand, he was about to
thunder forth anathemas and denunciations, the dealing out of which,
strange to say, most parties agree in reserving to themselves. Even men
whose honesty and single-heartedness we cannot doubt--who have boldly
defended our rights and liberties against religious tyranny and
intolerance--have still arrogated to themselves exclusively the control
of opinions and modes of belief:--wielding the terrors of Heaven where
the arm of Omnipotence can alone be felt; their efforts futile and
ineffectual, as though a feeble worm were attempting to grasp the
quiver,--to launch the bolt and the arrow from the skies.

But Gideon's purpose was again frustrated: the impious idolaters,
refusing to listen, blindfolded him before he was aware.

But his spirit kindled suddenly, and he cried aloud--

"Yet shut your eyes wilfully, and go blindfold to your destruction.
To-morrow these walls in which ye trust, this Egypt in whom your soul
delighteth, shall be as Sodom. Brimstone and fire shall devour you; and
they that flee from it shall not escape!"

Gideon and his threats were, however, speedily thrust out at the gates,
and the answer transmitted through him was faithfully reported to the
council.

Though this heroic woman was not daunted, yet she saw her soldiers
were, at times, dispirited, by reason of the expected succours so long
delayed. The mortar-piece, too, which, if it had been well managed, was
sufficient to have laid the fortress in ruins, was an object of daily
terror and annoyance.

One of the MS. journals states,[47] "The little ladyes had stomack to
digest cannon; but the stoutest souldiers had noe hearts for granadoes,
and might not they att once free themselves from the continual
expectac'on of death?"

Her ladyship was well aware that inactivity is, of all things, the most
dangerous and dispiriting to the soldier, who, used to the bustle and
array of camps, doth fear nothing so much as a quiet home and winter
quarters.

It was needful that something should be done, some decisive blow struck;
for, according to the historian, "Chaunges of tymes are the most fitt
for brave attempts, and delayes they are dangerous, where softnes and
quyetnes draweth more danger than hazarding rashly."

"A hard choice either t