quity and transcend it by their sacrifice. All events were ripening for a harvest that was to be not of sheaves but of men, not of grain but of blood. Hampden, the champion of the great cause that was shaping itself into such might and majesty on every hand, had expired, and his last words—“O Lord, save my country!" thrilled all who knew his virtues, loved his cause, and revered his memory.

Lincoln was now one of the seven associated counties, as Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, Cambridge, Herts, Hants, and Lincoln were commonly styled. It was soon to be the theatre of some few more active operations. Newbury and his young companion weresoon inducted into the life of a regular marching army. Cromwell and the younger Fairfax were approaching Boston to unite and complete, if possible, the total liberation of the county. A batch of new men were sent to Cromwell, including our gospeller and others, and were scrutinized with great closeness by this man of iron. He had a word for most men, a smile for some, and a rebuke for others. At first he was somewhat repulsed by the stiff, resolute, but Centaur

like manner with which Newbury bestrode his sturdy cob. He was conscious of an electric influence emanating from Newbury's will, and hovered about him for many minutes in a perplexity that was by no means displeasing. "I think there must be something in that man, he looks so boldly out at things," he said to himself. Here, Newbury-Corporal Newbury, in future, if you please come to me a minute."

Nathaniel nervously complied, for the speaker was no dandiacal general who fluttered you only by his ribbons and stars, but a veritable Mars in aspect, manner, and tone. Wrinkled, warty, sallow, shaggy-haired, like an odd Silenus face cut from some gnarled and knotted oak, there was withal a depth, magnanimity, and strong honest intelligence about the man-a very terror in his quiet searching gaze, that made you love, tremble, and revere, almost before you had analysed your own emotions, or were even conscious of their fulness and power.

"What have you to say of these new comers? Are they true? I don't so much want soldiers as men ;" and eyeing Nathaniel

severely, he went on-“ not so much men as Christians."

"I will be answerable for them all, Colonel. We burn to show you what even recruits can do when they war for the right.”

Aye, aye, man, that is well. You're a good honest soul."

"You praise me, Sir; I am, I hope, a Christian, doing my duty."

"See to it, then," answered Cromwell, with a dash of severity in his tone. "See to it, that ye fail me not when I trust you most, in my hour of need. I love honest, sober Christians, who expect to be used as men."

Then, riding forwards a few paces, and addressing the new comers in a body, Cromwell said with solemnity—

“Now, my men, you must keep your arms clean, and your hearts open in the sight of God; forget not your prayers and your psalms, and verily the swords in your hands shall become sceptres in the using, and of mighty power!"

"Amen!" responded the new Corporal devoutly.

The united army was now moving to the

north of the county by hard stages, preparing to meet Sir John Henderson and the royalist army. The meeting came more snddenly than was anticipated. Cromwell's horse, who were a full day's march in advance of the infantry, at last came upon the outposts of the enemy on Tuesday, October 10th. Cromwell was unwilling to fight. His men and his horses were excessively fatigued, and yet needed restraint rather than encouragement. The Earl of Manchester-the general in command of the Parliamentarians -drew them up on Bolinbroke Hill, an eminence near Winceby-in-the-Wolds. It was then seen at what fearful odds they would have to contend against the royalists-it was as four to one. On Wednesday morning the fight began, and the cavaliers had a good opportunity of testing the merits of this "thimble and bodkin army," as it was ironically called. The enemy drew up in battle array, and about noon the Roundheads marched a mile towards the enemy.

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Come," said Fairfax, "let us fall on! I never prospered better than when I fought against the enemy three or four to one."

Cromwell caught the inspiration. Through the ranks of his Ironsides rang the watchwords, "TRUTH and PEACE!" All was now joy and calm resolution. Officers gave short pithy addresses to their men, there were extempore prayer-meetings, and the men gladly arranged themselves in the order of battle.

Newbury was pale, almost sad. Many of his newly-made friends were around him, and by his side was the young convert he had made. Cromwell moved in and out amongst them speechless, but looking unutterable thoughts.

The enemy advanced a few paces, and fired a loose volley. They came still nearer, crying aloud their war-cry, " For Cavendish."

The Roundheads were impatient, swaying about with emotion as a wild steed shakes his sinewy neck though held in with curb and with bridle.

Cromwell was to lead the van with his unconquerable dragooners.

"Charge!" he cried out at length, in hoarse, rasping tones. It thrilled his men like a divine word, and their swords gleamed