into a soldier, and what manner of men are
bred in those quiet, peaceful hamlets which dot the sunny slopes of the
Somerset and Devon downs. If ever it should be that England should
be struck upon her knees, if those who fight her battles should have
deserted her, and she should find herself unarmed in the presence of her
enemy, let her take heart and remember that every village in the realm
is a barrack, and that her real standing army is the hardy courage and
simple virtue which stand ever in the breast of the humblest of her
peasants.

As we rode down the long line a buzz of greeting and welcome rose now
and again from the ranks as they recognised through the gloom Saxon's
tall, gaunt figure. The clock was on the stroke of eleven as we returned
to our own men, and at that very moment King Monmouth rode out from the
inn where he was quartered, and trotted with his staff down the High
Street. All cheering had been forbidden, but waving caps and brandished
arms spoke the ardour of his devoted followers. No bugle was to sound
the march, but as each received the word the one in its rear followed
its movements. The clatter and shuffle of hundreds of moving feet came
nearer and nearer, until the Frome men in front of us began to march,
and we found ourselves fairly started upon the last journey which many
of us were ever to take in this world.

Our road lay across the Parret, through Eastover, and so along the
winding track past the spot where Derrick met his fate, and the lonely
cottage of the little maid. At the other side of this the road becomes
a mere pathway over the plain. A dense haze lay over the moor, gathering
thickly in the hollows, and veiling both the town which we had left and
the villages which we were approaching. Now and again it would lift
for a few moments, and then I could see in the moonlight the long black
writhing line of the army, with the shimmer of steel playing over it,
and the rude white standards flapping in the night breeze. Far on the
right a great fire was blazing--some farmhouse, doubtless, which the
Tangiers devils had made spoil of. Very slow our march was, and very
careful, for the plain was, as Sir Stephen Timewell had told us, cut
across by great ditches or rhines, which could not be passed save at
some few places. These ditches were cut for the purpose of draining the
marshes, and were many feet deep of water and of mud, so that even
the horse could not cross them. The bridges were