of the reasons which had prevented my summary
execution.

Night was now drawing in, but a few dim lamps, hung here and there upon
the walls, cast an uncertain, flickering light over the scene. A hundred
or more prisoners were scattered about upon the stone floor, many of
them wounded, and some evidently dying. The hale had gathered in silent,
subdued groups round their stricken friends, and were doing what they
could to lessen their sufferings. Some had even removed the greater part
of their clothing in order to furnish head-rests and pallets for the
wounded. Here and there in the shadows dark kneeling figures might be
seen, and the measured sound of their prayers rang through the aisles,
with a groan now and again, or a choking gasp as some poor sufferer
battled for breath. The dim, yellow light streaming over the earnest
pain-drawn faces, and the tattered mud-coloured figures, would have made
it a fitting study for any of those Low Country painters whose pictures
I saw long afterwards at The Hague.

On Thursday morning, the third day after the battle, we were all
conveyed into Bridgewater, where we were confined for the remainder
of the week in St. Mary's Church, the very one from the tower of which
Monmouth and his commanders had inspected Feversham's position. The more
we heard of the fight from the soldiers and others, the more clear it
became that, but for the most unfortunate accidents, there was every
chance that our night attack might have succeeded. There was scarcely a
fault which a General could commit which Feversham had not been guilty
of. He had thought too lightly of his enemy, and left his camp entirely
open to a surprise. When the firing broke out he sprang from his couch,
but failing to find his wig, he had groped about his tent while the
battle was being decided, and only came out when it was well-nigh over.
All were agreed that had it not been for the chance of the Bussex Rhine
having been overlooked by our guides and scouts, we should have been
among the tents before the men could have been called to arms. Only
this and the fiery energy of John Churchill, the second in command,
afterwards better known under a higher name, both to French and to
English history, prevented the Royal army from meeting with a reverse
which might have altered the result of the campaign.(Note K, Appendix.)
Should ye hear or read, then, my dear children, that Monmouth's rising
was easily put down, or that it was hopeless