The Complete HISTORY OF THE WARS IN SCOTLAND Under the Conduct of the Illustrious and truly-valiant JAMES marquis OF MONTROSE, General for his Majesty CHARLES 1st. in that Kingdom, TOGETHER With a brief Character of Him, AS ALSO A True Relation of his Foreign Negotiations, Landing, Defeat, Apprehension, Trial, and deplorable Death in the time of CHARLES 2d.  
Now newly Corrected and Enlarged by an Eyewitness of all the  passages.  
Printed in the Year: 1660.   

 portrait of Jaques Marquis deMontrose 
jaques Marquis deMontrose, Count de Kingcairne Seigneir de Graeme, Baron du Mount dieus etc: A Paris  P: Pontius sculpsit   

To the Reader.  
THere are a few things of which I would not have them ignorant who shall chance to peruse this short History; whereof some concern the Lord marquis of Montrose, whose Actions in his Country for two years' space are here published; and others have relation to the Author of this work. And first of all I desire thee to take notice, that Montrose is the Chief of that ancient and famous Family of the graham's, and is called in old Scotish Graham-more, the great Graham. He derives his Pedigree from that famous Graham, in the Histories of Scotland, who was Son-in-law to Fergus the second King of the Scots; and was the first (that with the assistance of his Father-in law) cast down that Trench which Severus had made, and set out for the utmost limit of the Roman Empire, between the Scotish Frith and the River of Cluid, at such a place where Great Britain was narrowest; and by that means cut the power of the Romans shorter. Whence it happens, that some evident remains of that Trench retain his name amongst the Inhabitants to this day, who call it Gremesdike. The same Graham, from whom this noble Family took its rise, surviving his Father-in-law Fergus, and being a man as able for Civil as Military employment, was made Protector unto his Nephew, and Regent of the Kingdom; and after he had fetched back the Doctors of the Christian Faith, who had been banished by the late Wars, and settled as well the Church as State with excellent Laws, freely resigned the Government into the hands of his Nephew when he came to age. He flourished in the time of the Emperor's Arcadius and Honorius, about the year of our Lord CCCC. From whom hath descended in a fair and strait line, a long and noble row of Posterity, who, imitating the virtue of their Ancestors, have been famous in the succeeding generations. Amongst whom that valiant Graham was eminent, who with the help of Dumbarre, so seasonably rescued his Country from the Danes who were then Masters of England; and had frequently, but with little success, invaded Scotland with mighty Armies. And in after times that noble john Graham came nothing behind his Ancestors in virtue and honour, who after the death of Alexander the Third, in that vacation of the Kingdom, while Bruce and Bailiol disputed their Titles, was (with that renowned Viceroy William Walley) a stout maintainer of his Country's Liberty against the unjust oppression and tyranny of Edward King of England, and after many heroical exploits, fight valiantly for his Nation, died in the bed of Honour. His Tomb is yet to be seen in a Chapel which hath the name of Falkirk, from the aforesaid Gremesdike by which it stands. Adjoining unto which the marquis of Montrose hath large and plentiful possessions, descended by inheritance unto him from that first Graham.  
But lest I should seem to derive the Nobility of so illustrious a Worthies extraction only out of the rubbish of dusty and obscure Antiquity; I must not omit that his Grandfather, the Earl of Montrose, was advanced unto places of the greatest honour in that Kingdom, and discharged them most happily. For, being Lord Chancellor of Scotland at such time as King James the Sixth of blessed memory came to the Crown of England, he was created by him Viceroy of Scotland, and enjoyed that highest Honour which a Subject is capable of, with the love and good affection both of King and People to the day of his, death. And his Father was a man of singular endowments both of body and mind, and so known to be both in foreign Countries and at home: who after he had performed many most honourable Embassages for King James, was called to be Lord Precedent of the Session by King Charles; and being snatched away from his Country and all good men by an untimely death, was extremely lamented and miss. And what we may think or hope of the Grand child, I leave unto thee to judge by what he hath done already, seeing he is yet (now a year and a half after his employment in his Country) scarce entered upon the 36. year of his age.  
One thing more I must add, three Periods already have been very dangerous and almost fatal to the Kingdom of Scotland: the first by the oppression of the Romans, whose yoke our Ancestors cast off by the Conduct of that first Graham descended of the noble British Family of the Fulgentiis. The second by the Danes, the repulse of whom is owing especially to the prowess of the second Graham aforesaid. And the third by the English and Normans, whom the third Graham twice expelled. out of Scotland, and gave them many and great defeats. So that (as it was of old spoken of the Scipios in afric) it seems the name of Graham is something fatal to their enemies, and lucky to their Country at a dead lift; and that it was not without the special provideuce of God Almighty, that in these worst times One stood up who did his best endeavours to maintain the King's just Rights and Authority, the Peace, Safety, and Liberty of the Subjects, and the Honour and ancient splendour of his House. And this is all I thought good at this time to premise concerning the Lord Marquis of Montrose.  
For the Author of the Book, take it briefly thus. He professeth himself to have been but little conversant in these sort of studies, and expecteth neither credit or commendation for the strength of his wit (which he acknowledgeth to be little or none) nor reward or profit for his pains; which two things are the chiefest incentives to most to wet their pen; but that he undertook the business merely out of a desire to propagate the truth to other Nations, and to posterity. For he saw by late and lamentable experience, in such a cause as this, that prosperous Villainy can find more Advocates than downcast Truth and Goodness. For when the same Confederates in both Kingdoms had by their own arts (that is, by lying and slandering) ruined the Church, to fill their bags with its Revenues so sacrilegiously purloined, and enrich their posterity with plentiful Anathemaes and accursed things; there wanted no store of men that extolled them for it to the skies, as men deserving highly from their Country, from the Church itself, and from all mankind: and reviled with all sort of reproaches and contumelies the most religious servants of God, holy Martyrs and Confessors, for withstanding them. And therefore he might well imagine, that these men, who by the same devises laboured to render his Majesty himself odious, and so to destroy Him, to enjoy his Honours and Revenues so traitorously and perfidiously purloined, would easily find men who should out of the like railing humour bespatter as much as in them lay this most excellent man, and all his honourable achievements; and (as it is said of wasps) poison with their tongues or pens the juice of most sweet and wholesome flowers, and leave the less knowing, or less wary, to suck it up. He was therefore pleased to offer this short and faithful Narrative, as a seasonable antidote against that evil, to all that loved truth and plain the aling: of which he would needs be so obstinate a maintainre, that although he saw well enough how much envy and hatred it would derive upon himself, he resolved he would neither basely flatter any one, nor lap up that truth which they would not like to bear in obscure and doubtful. Expressions. For he professes, that as he is a Freeman born and bred, so he will never part with his Freedom till with his life. And although he be ambitious of no other commendable quality of a good Historian, neither of wit, nor art, nor eloquence, yet he seems to challenge in his own right the honour of sincere and exact truth: for the defence and propagation whereof he hath set at nought all that was dear in this world, having been thrice plundered of all that he had, thrice imprisoned in a nasty and filthy Fail, and now the third time lives in banishment for the Truth's sake. Yet he is merry and cheerful, that being conscious to himself of no wrong as towards men, he is counted worthy of the Lord to suffer these things for Truths and Righteousness sake. And thou (good Reader) make much of him at least for his truth's sake; excuse him for other things, and Farewell.   

ON THE Death of the Noble and Valiant Marquis of Montross.  

NOr shall He sleep; nor can His valour lie  
Raked in His ashes to Eternity:  
His glories shall outblaze each puny plot  
Of th' accursed Rebel, and the perjured Scot;  
That Slavish Kirk, too late, now wish indeed  
Their guilt washed off, with their highswelling Tweed;  
Too late alas! that generous blood shall be  
A brand on their despised Posterity.   

Brave Soul! whose learned sword's point could strain  
Rare lines upon thy murdered Sovereign;  
Thy self hast graved thine Epitaph, beyond  
Th' impressions of a pointed Diamond.  
Thy prowess, and Thy Loyalty shall burn  
In pure bright flames from Thy renowned 'Em,  
Clear as the beams of Heaven: Thy cruel Fare,  
Scaffold, and Gibbet shall Thy Fame dilate;  
That when in after age's Death shall bid  
A man go home and die upon his Bed:  
He shall reply to Death [I scorned, be gone;  
" Meet me at th' Place of Execution;  
" there's glory in the Scandal of the Cross,  
" Let me be Hanged; for so fell stout MOMTROSS.   T. F  

The affairs of the King in SCOTLAND, under the Conduct of the most Honourable James, marquis of Montrose, Earl of Kinkardin, etc. And General Governor for His Majesty in that Kingdom,  

In the Years 1644, 1645, & 1646.  
SOmetime James marquis of Montrose sided with the Covenanters in Scotland, and very forwardly bestowed his unhappily happy endeavours in their behoof. They pretended to nothing then, less than the preservation of Religion, the Honour and Dignity of the King, the Laws of the Land, and the freedom of that ancient Realm, so happily, so valiantly defended in time of yore from such powerful enemies, as the Romans, Saxons, Danes, Normans, by the sweat and blood, with the lives and estates of their Ancestors. And the tales they made, they never wanted fitting instruments to tell and spread among the people. It was given out, that there was nothing more in the aim of the Court of England, than that that free people being reduced to a kind of Province, should be eternally enflaved under the power of their old enemies. Yet all this while they engaged themselves by their public attestations, and even a solemn Oath, that they would never go to work by force and arms, nor solicit the King any other way than by Petition, That he would be pleased graciously to accept the supplications of his humblest Subjects, and to take order that his dearest Country should suffer nothing in matter of Religion or the Liberty of the Subject.  
But at last in the year 1639. Montrose found out that these fair tales were coined of purpose to steal the hearts of the silly and superstitious multitude, and to alienate them from the King, as an enemy to Religion and Liberty. For the Covenanters did not dissemble to him, but spoke out, that Scotland had been too long governed by Kings, nor could it ever be well with them as long as one Stuart (that's the surname of the King's family in Scotland) was alive: and in the extirpation of them, they were first to strike at the head: so that Montrose easily perceived the King's Majesty and Person was leveled at. Therefore vehemently detesting so horrible a crime, he resolved to desert the Conspirators side, to frustrate their counsels, to impoverish their store, to weaken their strength, and with all his might to preserve His Majesty and His Authority entire and inviolate. But because between force and craft the Covenanters had drawn in almost all the Kingdom to their side, he saw himself alone too weak to check their power, and therefore thought not good to open himself too suddenly or rashly. Amongst them he had many friends, men very considerable, as well in regard of their numerous retinues and clients, as of their wealth and authority: these he had a mind to draw off from them, and bring them with him to the King; and by this means conceived he should be able to gather no small power, which would conduce much both to the King's safety and his own.  
Mean time the Covenanters raise a strong Army against the King, and in a solemn Convention at Duns, they determine to invade England: Montrose was absent then. Which resolution of theirs, the chief of the Covenanters had taken up in their cabinet counsels more than six weeks before; and to that purpose had been busy in divulging through all Great Britain their Apologetical Pamphlets, whereby they laboured to set a good gloss upon the reasons of their Expedition. This resolution of theirs, Montrose being returned, seeing he could not binder, would not seem to disapprove: Montrose commanded in this Army two thousand foot and five hundred horse, his friends (who were most obliged unto him, and had religiously promised their best endeavours in the King's service) had the command of five thousand more. And truly if a great part of them had not been worse than their words, they had either brought the whole Army along with them to the King, or at least had broken the neck of the Covenanters designs. When the Army came to the river of Tweed (which is the border of the two Kingdoms) dice were cast amongst the Noblemen and Commanders, and it was Montrose's chance to pass first over the river; which he cheerfully performed on his feet, his own foot Soldiers following him, that he might more easily conceal his own resolution, and take off all occasion of suspicion. For as well his authority in the Army, as the integrity of his noble spirit began to be looked on with a jealous eye by the guilty-conscienced Rebels, so that they diligently observed all his behaviour, words and deeds.  
After this, marching over the river of Tine four miles above Newcastle, by the treachery of the English Commanders who had retreated to York with a potent Army of the Kings, the Scots possess themselves of that Town: and thereupon, Commissioners being appointed on either side to treat of a Peace, a Truce was presently made. In the time of this Truce, Montrose had sent Letters unto the King, professing his fidelity, and most dutiful, and ready obedience to his Majesty; Nor did the Letters contain any thing else. These being stolen away in the night, and copied out by the Kings own Bed-chambermen, men most endeared to the King of all the world, were sent back by them to the Covenanters at Newcastle: and it was the fashion with those very men to communicate unto the Covenanters from day to day the Kings most secret counsels, of which they themselves only were either authors or partakers. And some of the forwarder sort of the Rebels were not ashamed to tax Montrose bitterly enough with those Letters; and although they durst not make an open quarrel of it, or call him publicly to account, because he was so powerful and wellbeloved in the Army, yet they loaded him with backbitings and slanders among the people. For they had obliged unto themselves most of the Preachers throughout the Kingdom, whose mercenary tongues they made use of to wind and turn the minds of the people which way they would. Nor did they promote their Rebellion more effectually any other way, nor do yet, than this, to have those doughty Orators in their popular preachments to rail bittorly against the King and all his Loyal Subjects, as the enemies of Christ (as they love to speak) being themselves the while the very shame and scandal of Christianity.  
Montrose returning into Scotland, and thinking of nothing but how to preserve his Majesty from that storm of Rebellion hanging over his head, at last resolved of this course. He joins many of the prime men for Nobility and Power, in a League with himself, in which they vowed to defend the King's Majesty, and all his royal privileges, and ancient and lawful Prerogatives, with the hazard of their lives and estates, against all his enemies, as well homebred, as foreign, unto the last breath in their bodies. And truly it came to that pass, that there had been an open division in the Army (which was his aim) had not some for fear, levity, or cowardice (which are bad keepers of counsel) betrayed the whole business to the Covenanters. Hence arose not, small stirs and brawls, but were pacified again in a while; for neither yet durst they offer any open violence to Montrose. But afterward the confederates having given a new oath, made sure the Army at their devotion; and joining themselves to the Parliament of England in a strict Covenant, although they saw themselves secure enough from the subtlest designs of any private man, yet they seriously consult how they should take Montrose out of the way, whose heroic spirit, being fixed on high and honourable (howsoever difficult) achievements, they could not endure.  
To make their way therefore unto so villainous an act, by the assistance of some Courtiers whom with gifts and promises they had corrupted, they understood that the King had written Letters to Montrose, and that they were quilted in the saddle of the bearer, one Stuart, belonging to the Earl of Traquair. The bearer was scarce entered the borders of Scotland, but they apprehended him, rip his saddle, and find the Letters. There was nothing at all written in them, which did not become the best of Kings to command the best of Subjects to obey. Nevertheless those most exact crafts-masters in the arts of Lying and Slandering, sent about horrible and tragical reports by their apt Ministers, that at last all the King's plots with Montrose, for the overthrow of Religion, and the ruin of the Kingdom were found out and discovered. Nor yet neither durst they afford him a public trial, but on a sudden when he suspected nothing, thrust him (with Napier Lord of Marthiststen, and Sir Sterling Keir Knight, two both of his near kindred and intimate familars) into the castle of Edinburgh.  
At length a Pacification being made between the people of both Kingdoms, (between whom there had been no War, only they laid their heads together against their most just and gracious King) a Parliament was called at Edinburgh, where the King in person was present. Montrose desires most earnestly to be tried before the King and that solemn Assembly; but to no purpose, for the Covenanters being conscious enough of his innocency and their own guilt, applied their special endeavours to detain the Gentleman in prison unheard, until such time as the King was got out of Scotland, and they had concluded all things with the King in Parliament according to their hearts desire. And certainly they were much afraid, lest by his wisdom, and courage, and the esteem he was in, as well with his Peers of the Nobility as with the people, he should have fetched off the greatest number of either sort to his own resolution for the preservation of his Majesty's Power and Authority. At last the King returning into England, Montrose and his friends are set at liberty: and because it was ordered in Parliament that he should not come into conference with the King, he sat still a while at his own house. This was towards the end of the year 1641.   

CHAP. II.  
IN the year 1642. the Covenanters of both Kingdoms began to unmask themselves, and let us see more plainly what they meant to do. The Rebels in England began to vex the King with unjust, unreasonable, unseasonable Petitions and Complaints, bespatter him with malicious slanders, profane his sacred Name in scurrilous Songs and Ballads, vilify him in infamous Libels, Pasquil's, or Pamphlets, raise Tumults, arm great numbers of the scum and rascally sort of the people, and engage them upon the King's palace; in a word, threaten all extremity to him and his: whom although he might have justly punished himself, yet he chose rather to refer them to the Parliament, that he might the more oblige it unto himself. But it was to no end for so gracious a King to gratify that and many things more, to so ungracious, so ingrateful men, who were the very Authors and Abettors of these villainies. For he had already granted more and greater Graces to his Subjects, for the case of their grievances (which they pretended) and the security of their persons and estates, than all his Ancestors the Kings of England together, from William the Conqueror downward. Therefore at last, that he might withdraw himself and his family from present danger, he is forced sore against his mind to departed London: He sends the Queen out of the way into Holland for the safety of her life, and betakes himself to York. The States of Parliament (as they call themselves) forthwith, and before the King, take up arms, and divert those very Forces which the King had appointed for Ireland, which were then in a readiness, and whose Officers had been of the Parliaments choosing, hoping by them to overthrow the King himself.  
The Rebels in Scotland, who knew well enough the King would have strength sufficient to deal with the English Rebels, resolved upon no terms to be wanting to their confederates in so apparent danger as they were. And although our most gracious King had given them satisfaction (as much as ever they could desire) in that Parliament at Edinburgh aforesaid, which also they have recorded among their public Acts, nevertheless they provide themselves for a march into England.  
Now that they might the better secure their affairs at home, they labour tooth and nail to draw Montrose (of whom almost only they were afraid) again to their side. They offer him of their own accord the office of Lieutenant General in the Army, and what ever else he could desire, and they bestow. He seeing a mighty storm hover over the King's head, that he might give him an account of it, whereby it might be timely prevented, undertakes a journey into England, taking the Lord Ogilby into his counsel and company.  
At Newcastle he receives news that the Queen being newly returned out of Holland was landed at Birdlington in Yorkshire: thither he makes haste, and relates unto the Queen all things in order. She, having had a rough passage, and being not well recovered from the distempers at Sea, told him she would advise further with him about that business after they came to York. Thither being come, the Queen of her own accord calls for Montrose, he opens the whole story over again, and makes it appear, that there was no less danger from the Scotch than from the English Covenanters, if they were not timely suppressed. And being asked his opinion what was best to be done, answered, To resist force with force; told her, the King wanted not Subjects in Scotland, faithful men, and stout; nor did they want hearts, or wealth, or power to oppose against the Covenanters if they durst enterprise any thing against the King: all that they wanted was the King's Commission, without which they durst do nothing, with which any thing; and all the danger that was, was in delay: That the Covenanters, when they had once got their Army on foot would be able to grind any one to pieces that should offer to stir; therefore the beginnings of so great an evil were to be withstood, and the cockatrice bruised in the egg; that Physic being too late that comes when the disease hath over-ran the whole body.  
Wholesome counsel it was, and seasonable, which doubtless the most prudent Queen had approved of. But while things were going on in so good a posture, all things were quashed by the coming of the Duke Hamilton out of Scotland, upon pretence of kissing the Queen's hand, and gratulating her happy return, but in very deed that he might overthrow Montrose his counsels; for he had posted thither with the knowledge and consent of the Covenanters. Nor did he himself dissemble that there was some danger from the Scotish Covenanters, but he laboured to extenuate it; and condemned the Counsel of Montrose as rash, unadvised, and unseasonable. That stout and Warlike Nation was not to be reduced with force and arms, but with gentleness and courtesies: Warr, especially Civil War, should be the last remedy, and used many times to be repent of even by the conquerors. The fortune of War was uncertain; if the King should get the best, it would be but a sorry triumph he could enjoy over his own Subjects; but if he had the worst on't, he must expect what his soul (good man) abhorred to speak. All means were to be tried to preserve peace with that Nation, nor were things yet come to that pass, that the King should despair of amity and reconciliation with them: He would be ready to take the whole business upon himself, if the King pleased to commit it to his pains and trust, and to authorize him sufficiently thereunto. Montrose replied, Nothing would come of that but the delay of time, until the Traitors having raised an Army should prevent the King of any means to deliver himself and his party from their tyranny. The sad event proved all this to be too true; but in this debate Montrose was fain to suffer himself to be overborne, being not so great a Courtier as the other; nor were those virtues which the world now admires, discovered then unto the Queen. Hamilton returning into Scotland seemed to be as Active for the King as was possible.  
The Covenanters mean while by their own authority (contrary to the known Laws of the Kingdom) summon a Parliament at Edinburgh; which all understanding men that wished well unto the King foresaw would be of very dangerous consequence to his affairs, and therefore abhorred it so much, that they intended not to honour it with their presence. But Hamilton interposing the name and authority of the King, invited them by his Letters that they would not fail to be all there; and that they should not doubt but they would be able to out-vote the Covenanters, if at this time they were not wanting to the King's cause. And if it should happen otherwise, he would be ready with his friends, to protest against the Covenanters, and immediately to leave them. Abundance of the Nobility incited by the name of the King, and those hopes, were present at that Parliament, only Montrose and a few of his adherents stayed away. And with Montrose too the Duke had dealt by his friends, that as he loved and honoured the King he would join himself unto them. But he (who had reason to suspect all motions that came that way) answered, That he was ready to grapple with any difficulty, especially under his command who had so great an honour as to be the King's supreme Commissioner; only on this condition, that the Duke should engage his honour, that if they could not bring up that Parliament to righteous things, he would endeavour to enforce them by the dint of the sword. He answered, He would protest, he would not fight. Which passage considered, Montrose to preserve his integrity, expecting the issue, betook himself to his own home.  
In that Parliament, the Covenanters out-voted the Loyal party by seventy voices or thereabouts, trampled upon the Royal authority, arrogated unto themselves the power of calling of Parliaments, pressing Soldiers, sending Ambassadors, and other things hitherto unattempted, without the King's knowledge or consent. And to make up the measure of their presumption and treason, ordain that a powerful Army shall be raised against the King, and in the aid of their confederates of England. To which purpose they tax the people with new Subsidies and Levies, much heavier, than if all the Impositions which upon never so much necessity for two thousand years' space by one hundred and nine Kings have been charged upon them, were put together.  
Montrose therefore, who saw the King was like to be ruined by his own authority, and saw too that he was too weak to oppose himself both against the strength of the Covenanters and the Kings abused Commission, in a melancholy mood made as if he took no notice of any thing. And the Covenanters, supposing he had received some distaste from the King, by reason of the affront he received at York, and Hamiltons' overpowering him, they set upon him yet again, privately and by friends, to see if by entreaty or interest they could draw him to their side; offering him Authority and wealth, even the greatest honour Civil and Military. Which offers he did not seem much to slight, that by that means he might have an easier way to dive into their counsels. The Covenanters, that this growing friendship might be the better cemented and sanctified (God bless us) send unto him that great Apostle of their Covenant, Alexander Henderson, who should give him full satisfaction in all his scruples. Montrose hearty desired to speak with that fellow, out of whom he doubted not to pump all the secrets of the Covenanters: and lest a private meeting with such a man should give a scandal to the King's friends, he took the Lords Napier and Ogilby, and Sir Sterling Keer to be witnesses of the discourse, and on the bank of the river Forth, not far from Sterling, they met.  
Montrose made as though he accounted himself very happy, and much honoured in the visit of so worthy a man, upon whose faith, honesty, and judgement, he so much relied. Told him, That to give the ill opinion of his Enemies leave to breath itself after some late mistakes, he was content to stay at home; that he knew nothing of what was done in Parliament; that he was almost at a loss how to behave himself in that ticklish condition the Commonwealth stood; and therefore beseeched him for old acquaintance sake to let him freely knew what they intended. Henderson taking it for granted by these expressions, that he was wheeling about towards the Covenanters, that he might the more oblige the marquis unto him, answered him flatly and without more ado, That it was resolved to send as strong an Army as they could raise, in aid of their brethren of England against the King's forces; that the Covenanters of both Kingdoms had unanimously agreed upon this, either to die or bring the King to their lure; that nothing could fall out more happily, than that he should renew his friendship with his Peers of the Nobility, and the rest of the Kingdom; that so doing he would give great content to all men, besides the honour and profit that would redound to himself; that by his example others (if others there were that idolised the empty shadow of the King's name) would join themselves unto the Covenanters; and for his own part he would give most hearty thanks unto his Lord God, that he had vouchsafed to make use of him as the Minister and ever Mediator of so great a work; and at last entreated him to speak out his mind, and commit all such things to his care and industry as he should desire from the Parliament, either in relation to his honour or profit; assuring him he should be satisfied to his hearts desire.  
Montrose having gotten out the knowledge of those things which he eagerly sought for, now bethought himself how he should keep Henderson and his party in suspense a while, that they should not get within him. For what answer could he give them? If he should profess himself to be against their courses, that would do the King no good, and might bring a great deal of danger upon himself: and on the other side, to put them in greater hopes of him, by promising those things he never meant to perform, he scorned, as being a stain unto his honour. Therefore he takes this course; there was present at that conference with Henderson one Sir james Rollock, Chief of a very ancient and flourishing family: his former wife had been Montrose his Sister, after whose death he married the Sister of the marquis of Argyle, the ringleader of the Covenanters in Scotland: thus being allied unto them both, he seemed to be a very fit mediator of friendship between them. Montrose asks him whether those things which had passed between them proceeded from the direction of the Parliament, or out of their own good wills? He answered, He conceived that Master Henderson had received Commission from the Parliament to that purpose; But Henderson said no; but he made no question but the Parliament would make good any thing that he promised. Montrose told them, he could resolve upon nothing except he had the Public faith to build upon, especially the messengers disagreeing between themselves. Whereupon (as the fashion is on such occasions) one of them lays the blame upon the other, when both of them ought rather to have condemned their own carelessness and negligence. The conference being thus ended, Montrose having obtained his ends, and they being no wiser than they came thither, every own went his own way.   

CHAP. III  
Montrose being returned from this Conference, related all things as they had passed unto some select friends whom he could safely trust; and withal entreated them, that (for the greater confirmation of the business) they would all go along with him to the King; that his Majesty receiving a full account of all things, might lend his ear to sound counsel, and (yet if it was possible) provide a remedy against so threatening evils. Most of them were of opinion, That the King and his authority were utterly ruined and irrecoverable; that it was a thing passing the power of man to reduce that Kingdom to obediance that for their parts they had acquitted themselves before God, and the World, and their own consciences; 〈…〉 with the disgrace of their persons, the loss of their estates, and the hazard of their lives they had continued in their allegiance; hereafter they would be only brokers on, and Petitioners unto Almighty God for better times. Montrose who could by no means be removed from so honest a resolution, communicating his counsel to the Lord Ogilby, (whom of all men he especially loved) goes strait to Oxford. The King was absent thence, being gone to the siege of Gloucester, he imparts unto the Queen what designs the Scotish Covenanters had against his Majesty; but he had as good have said nothing, for she had determined not to believe a word, by reason of the far greater confidence she reposed in Hamilton and his brother.  
Montrose, seeing no good was to be done with the Queen, goes to Gloucester, and declares all things to the King himself: How there was a powerful Army to be raised in Scotland, and a day appointed on which it should be brought into England; how their counsels were manifestly known unto him, and how to fetch him over to their side, they had offered him very honourable commands in the Army; but that he hearty detesting so horrid an employment had fled to his Majesty; that he having notice thereof, if he were not able to provide so timely and powerful a remedy as could be wished, at least might cast some blocks and rubs in their way, until such time as he had settled his affairs in England; that the Traitors of either Kingdom might be easily dealt withal by themselves, but if they came once to join their forces, they would be hardly suppressed; that there were very many in Scotland who would sacrifice themselves and all that they had for their dearest King, whose good will would be of no use unto his Majesty after the Covenanters had raised their Army, but destructive unto themselves; that the haughty spirits of the Traitors were to be sneaped in time, and their strength broken before it grew too big, lest the beginnings being neglected, repentance should prove the only opposition that could be made afterward. These things, and to this effect, did Montrose continually press unto the King, but in vain, for he had not only the strong and deeply-rooted confidence his Majesty had of the hamilton's to struggle with, but the devices of a set of desperate Courtiers beside, who daily buzzed in the King's ears Montrose's youth, his rashness, his ambition, the envy and hatred he bore unto the hamilton's, and what not; and on the other side, the Hamiltons' fidelity, their honesty, their discretion, their power. Thus Monrose nothing prevails, and the King returns to his winter-quarters at Oxford. And although his Majesty saw very well (reports coming thick and threefold of the Scotish Army) that all was true that Montrose had told him, yet the most religious King determined upon no terms to give any occasion of quarrel to the Scots till first they entered England; resolving, that he for his part would perfectly observe the articles of Pacification he had made with them, which if they should violate, he doubted not but they should highly answer it both to God and him. While these things were discussed at Oxford, the Covenanters in Scotland bring their business about according to their desires, no one opposing them. They raise as big an Army as they can, which consisted of eighteen thousand Foot and two thousand Horse; and at last when they had marched unto the very borders, the hamilton's were not ashamed to give the King notice by Letters of the approach of that formidable Army; making this their excuse, that according to their engagement, they had prevented an invasion the summer before, but now that winter was come on, they were able to keep them out no longer, but they would come in immediately with a powerful Army. The King, when he saw himself thus grossly abused, sends for Montrose, shows him the Hamiltons' Letters, and at last (when it was even too late) asks his advice what was best to be done.  
Montrose tells him, that his Majestry might now see, that what he had before given him notice of, had neither proceeded from ambition, nor malice, nor any self-ends, but from his bounden duty and allegiance; that for above a twelvemonth he had been continually pressing both their Majesties to prevent this; that he accounted himself very unhappy, that all that while so faithful a servant could not be credited by so good a Master; that the case seemed now desperate, but if the King had a mind he might trust them again who by pretence of his authority had bound some of his friends hands that they could not assist him, and drawn in others, who intended nothing less, under colour of Loyalty to fight against him, and given up unto the Rebels, now that they had got an Army, all that they had, without striking a stroke. The King complaining that he was most abominably betrayed by them with whom he had entrusted his Crown, his Honour, his Secrets, his Life, earnestly demanded his advice. He repeating again the lamentablenesse of the condition in which things now stood, nevertheless offered, that if his Majesty so thought good, he would either lose his life, which if he did, he would be sure it should seem rather sold then lost, or else (which he did only not despair) he would reduce his Countrymen, and bring the Rebels there into subjection. The King being no little pleased with the confidence, undauntedness, and gallantry of the man, that he might more advisedly contrive his design, desired him to take two or three days to consider of it, and so dismissed him.  
Montrose returning at the time appointed, shows his Majesty how desperate an adventure he was undertaking; that all Scotland was under the Covenanters command, that they had Garrisoned all places of strength, that they were plentifully provided both of men, and money, and arms, and ammunition, and victual, and all things necessary for a War; that the English Rebels were joined with them in a most strict Covenant to defend one another against all the world. But for his own part he had nothing to set up with, neither men nor arms, or pay; yet he would not distrust God's Assistance in a righteous cause, and if the King would lay his Commands upon him, he would undertake to do his best. The King should be in no worse case than he was, He himself would take what malice, envy, or danger should fail, upon himself, so that his Majesty were graciously pleased to condescend to a few reasonable requests. And first, that the business might go on more successively, it seemed to him very necessary, that the King should send some Soldiers out of Ireland into the West of Scotland. Next, that he should give order to the marquis of Newcastle (who was the General of the King's forces towards Scotland) that he should assist Montrose with a party of horse to enter the South of Scotland, by which means he might convey himself into the heart of the Kingdom. Then, that he should deal with the King of Denmark for some troops of Germane horse. And lastly, that his Majesty should take some course to procure and transport some arms out of some foreign country into Scotland: nothing needed more but humane industry, the success was God's part, and to be referred to his providence. The King commending his counsel, and giving him thanks that he apprehended some life in the business, encourageth him to fit himself cheerfully for so great a work, and wished him to leave the care of those things he had requested, unto him.  
And truly, for the matter of aid out of Ireland, the King sends for the Earl of Antrim, and acquaints him with Montrose's design. This Antrim is of Scotish extraction, descended of the noble and ancient Family of the Mac-Donalds, a man of great estate and power in Ireland, and allied to the prime Nobility of England, by matching with the Duchess of Buckingham. He being driven out of his own country lived at Oxford, and cheerfully undertook the negotiation with the Irish upon himself, and engaged himself also voluntarily unto Montrose, that he would be in Argyle (a part of Scotland bordering upon Ireland) with ten thousand men by the first of April 1644. this passed in December 1643. And as for foreign aids and arms, the King sent Sir john Cockeram his Ambassador about it with his Commission and Instructions. And directions unto the Marquis of Newcastle were carried by some of Montrose's own company. Who receiving the King's Letters and Commission to be Governor of Scotland, and General of the Army there, made himself ready for his journey. In the interim news came on a sudden that Duke Hamilton with his brother the Earl of Lannerick were posting up to Oxford. They, that they might make their access easier to the King, who had hitherto given ear unto their counsels, and to continue or recover the good opinion the King had of them, gave out all the way as they came, especially unto Governors of Shires and Towns, and Commanders of the Army, that they were banished their Country, that they had been plundered of their estates by the Covenanters for their loyalty to the King, and that for safety of their lives, with which they had hardly escaped, they fled to Oxford. But Montrose and those of his mind saw plainly that these were but tales of their own making, of purpose to wipe off the suspicion of this new guilt; and that by this means, they in confidence of that esteem they had lately with the King, and of a strong faction they drove at Court, doubted not but they should stand as fair in his opinion as ever, if they were but once admitted into the King's presence; and that the only business they had thither, was by defeating Montrose again, clearly to extinguish that little spark of Loyalty that was not yet quite out in Scotland. And Montrose delivered himself freely, that for his part he would never stand by to be witness of so great an oversight: and therefore humbly besought the King, that he would give him leave to seek his fortune in some foreign Country, if these men that had deceived him so oft should be received again into favour, not that he desired any severity should be used against them, only he wished the King might have a care that they should do him no more harm. The King was drawn with much ado that they should be forbidden the Court, yet for all that he suffered the Earl of Lannerick to live in the City. But he (by whose instigations I cannot tell) betakes himself from Oxford to London to the Parliament of England, and not long after to the Scotch Army, which had now entered England, and never since hath failed to do them the best service he could. The escape of his brother so much moved the King, that he saw it high time to secure the Duke himself.  
There were several Scots in the King's Court and Army who were suspected (and perhaps not without reason) to favour the Covenanters too much, and to give intelligence unto them of the King's Counsels. Montrose, that he might put these to the touch, took this course; He got a protestation to be drawn up by the King's authority, unto which all Scots who would have the reputation of honest men were to set their hands: Wherein they professed themselves hearty to detest the courses of the Covenanters, condemned especially the bringing in of an Army into England against the King and the Laws of the Land as an Act of high treason, promised and vowed to acquit themselves of that scandal, and to the utmost of their power, with the hazard of their lives and fortunes, to oppose those that were guilty of that crime. This Protestation all men of honour and honesty readily took; but there were two, in whom the King trusted most of all Scotchmen next to the hamilton's, to wit, the Earl of Trequaire, and Master William Murray of the Bedchamber, who were difficulty brought unto it at last, with much reluctancy and fear of being discovered traitors: yet even they engaged themselves by a solemn Oath at a certain day to be aiding and assisting unto Montrose in Scotland; which Oath of theirs afterward they most unworthily violated.  
This being done; and Montrose on his journey from Oxford towards Scotland, those that were the Hamiltons' creatures; and other falsehearted Courtiers began to blast the Honour of Montrose, to call him a vain and ambitious man, who had attempted an impossible thing: to extol above measure the power of the Covenanters, and that they might deter every one from engaging himself in so noble an exploit, gave out every where most maliciously, that no good was ever to be expected from Montrose.  
He being little troubled with the calumnies of unworthy men, came forward to York, and so to Durham: where he sees that the King's Instructions be sent to the marquis of Newcastle, and the next day they met and conferred. Newcastle discoursed of nothing but the distresses and necessities of his Army; how the Rebel Scots breaking in in the midst of winter, had spoilt his Recruits, and that now in far greater numbers than he, they quartered within five miles of him; that he could not possibly spare any Horse without a manifest hazard to the whole Atmy. Montrose urged on the other side, that nothing could do Newcastle more service than to let him have a party of Horse (in which he was very strong) with him into Scotland, that so he might either divert, or at least divide the enemy, and by kindling a fire in their own houses, fetch them home again to defend themselves. Newcastle courteously replied, that assoon as he had wound himself out of that present danger, he would not be wanting in any service to Montrose: which promise, there is no doubt but a person of so much Honour and Loyalty would most surely have performed, had he continued any while in the Command of those parts. In the mean time, all that he could do for the present was; to afford him about one hundred Horse, but lean ones, and ill accourred, (which was not the General's fault, but some men's private spleen) with two brass Field-pieces.  
Moreover he sent his Orders unto the King's Officers and Commanders in Cumberland and Westmoreland, that they should give Montrose all the succour and assistance they could make for his journey into Scotland. Montrose going towards Carlisle was accordingly met by the Cumberland and Westmoreland men, consisting of eight hundred Foot, and three troops of Horse; who according to the marquis of Newcastles Command, were to wait upon him into Scotland. Montrose himself brought with him two hundred Horse, most of them Noblemen and Gentlemen, and such as had been Captains either in Germany, France, or England. With which small forces (not over-trusty neither) he entered Scotland on the 13 of April; for he made the more haste, lest he should have been absent at the time appointed by the Earl of Antrim.   

CHAP. IU.  
MOntrose having entered Scotland, had come to the river of Anan, when upon a mutiny among the English, occasioned by Richard graham's Soldiers, almost all of them fly their Colours, and in all haste run back to England. Notwithstanding he with his own men came to Dunfrise, and took the Town into protection upon surrender: and there he stayed a while, that he might be ready to entertain Antrim and his Irish; but the day appointed being already passed, there came not so much as a Messenger from them, nor the least report of them into Scotland. And the Covenanters gathering themselves together on every side, there was no staying there any longer for Montrose, without being suprised; therefore he returns safe to Carlisle with his men. And seeing he could neither procure any aid from the English, nor expected any Foreiners suddenly, nor had scarce any hopes of good from Ireland, and found that the Earl of Calendar had raised a new Army in Scotland to second General Lesley, who had by this time together with the English Covenanters besieged York, he resolved, lest he should spend his time idly, to engage himself among the King's Forces in Northumberland and the Bishopric; nor was that resolution either unprofitable to them, or dishonourable to himself.  
For having ferreted a Garrison of the Counanters out of the town of Morpet, he took in the Castle, permitted all the pillage unto the English, and taking an Oath of them that had held it, that they should never more fight against the King, he sent them away without any greater punishment. He took a Fort at the mouth of the river of Tine from the Covenanters, (who had not long before turned out an English Garrison from thence) and dismissed the prisoners upon the same terms with those of Morpet. He plentifully victualled Newcastle with corn brought from Alnwick, and other places thereabouts. When this was done, he was sent for by Letters from Prince Rupert Count Palatine of Rhine, who was then coming to raise the siege of York. And although he made all the haste he could, yet he met not the Prince till he was upon his retreat the day after that unfortunate battle. And truly the Prince freely offered Montrose a thousand Horse to take along with him into Scotland, but some that were too powerful with him, dealt so with the good Prince, that the next day after that promise was made, there was not one horse to be had.  
All things thus failing Montrose, from which he expected any assistance, yet his spirit never sailed him: therefore returning to Carlisle with those few but faithful and gallant men that stuck close to him, he sends away the Lord Ogilby and Sir William Rollock into the heart of Scotland in mean disguise, lest they should be discovered by the enemy. Within a fortnight they returned, and brought word that all things in Scotland were desperate; all Passes, Castles, Towns, possessed with Garrisons of the Covenanters, nor could they find any one so hardy as to dare to speak reverently or affectionately of the King. Most of those who had adhered to Montrose all this while, being cast down with this sad news, bethought themselves of bending their courses some other way, especially when they were tampered with by that honest man the Earl of Traquair to desert the service: who forgetting all his vows and imprecations he had made before the King, undertook in the name of the Covenanters, not only for Indemnity to all that should fall off unto them, but rewards and preferments too; as if he had been all this while an Agent for the Rebels, and not for the King, as he pretended. And yet this man was greater in the King's favour, and more confided in, than any one except the hamilton's.  
Montrose calling his friends to counsel, desires them to deliver their opinions what they conceived was fittest to be done in this sad face of things. Some advise him to repair to the King at Oxford, and certify him that his Scotch Affairs were past recovery; that Antrim came not with his Irish forces, nor was there any appearance of them; that little or no assistance had been obtained from the English; and as for Arms or aid from Foreign parts, he had not so much as heard a word of them; so that it was none of his fault that his service had no better success. Others were of opinion, that it was better for him to excuse himself by Letters unto the King, and to send up his Commission along with them, and that he himself should step a while aside into some other Country, till such time as it should please God to send better opportunities. But all agreed in this, that nothing more was to be attempted or thought of in Scotland. But he himself only entertained far other thoughts in his high and undaunted spirit: He conceived himself bond never to forsake his dearest Lord the King though in extremest hazards, and that it was an unworthiness to despair of so good a cause; and if he should attempt some greater matter than came within the reach or apprehension of common men, he conjectured it might prove much to his own Honour, and something perhaps to the King's good too. For as it was dubious whether it might please God in his mercy to look upon the King with a more favourable eye, and to turn his adversity into prosperity; so it was most certain, that if he should not be able to go thorough with it, but perish in the enterprise, he should die with Honour, and his fall should be much lamented. So resolved, and commending himself and his success to the disposal and protection of Almighty God, he performed such Adventures without men, without money, without arms, as were not only to the astonishment of us that were present, and were eye and ear witnesses of them, but also the example and envy both of all great Commanders hereafter. What those were we shall declare by and by.  
Montrose delivers those few Gentlemen that had been constant unto him to the Lord Ogilby, to be conducted unto the King, (for as he had communicated all his former designs unto him, so he did this also) and conjureth him withal to deal earnestly with his Majesty for hastening of some aid, if not of Men yet of Arms at least, from beyond Seas; So he accompanying them two days on their journey, and leaving with them his Horses, his Servants, and his Carriages, conveyed himself privily away from them, and with what speed he could, came back to Carlisle. The company suspecting nothing of his departure, because Ogilby and other his dearest friends were still with them, marched on strait towards Oxford; but thither they never reached, for most of them (of whom were the Lord Ogilby himself, Sir john Inns, and Colonel Henry Graham his brother, a most hopeful young Gentleman, james, john, and Alexander Ogilbyes', Patrick Melvin, and other gallant men, and highly esteemed by Montrose) fell into the enemy's hands, and endured a long and nasty imprisonment, until they were set at liberty by Montrose himself the next year, after which they did him most faithful service. He returning to Carlisle imparts his design to the Earl of Aboine, lest he should have any occasion to cavil afterwards, that a matter of that consequence was done without his knowledge or advice, who might have proved able to give a great stroke to the advancing of it. But when he found something too much sickleness in that young man, he was not over earnest to engage him to adventure with him in so perilous a journey; and therefore easily persuaded him to reside at Carlisle till he heard further news out of Scotland, by which time it might be more seasonable for him to return into his Country.  
And now being prepared for his journey, he selected only two men for his companions and guides; one was Sir William Rollock, a Gentleman of most known honesty, and an able man both of his head and hands. The other was one Sibbald, whom for the report of his valour and gallantry, Montrose did equally love and honour: but the latter afterwards deserted him in his greatest need. Montrose passing as Sibbalds' man, and being disguised in the habit of a Groom, road along upon a lean jade, and led another horse in his hand. And so he came to the borders, where he found all ordinary and safe passes guarded by the enemy. There was a chance happened which put them in a greater fright than all that, and it was this; not far from the borders they hit by chance upon a servant of Sir Richard graham's, who taking them for Covenanters, and to be of Lesley's Army who used to range about those parts, told them freely and confidently that his Master had made his peace with the Covenanters, and had undertaken (as if he were their Centinel) to discover unto them all such as came that way whom he suspected to favour the King. An unworthy act it was of a shameless villain, of whom not only Montrose had a very high esteem, but his Majesty also, whose mistaken bounty had raised him out of the dunghill (to say no worse) unto the honour of Knighthood, and an estate even to the envy of his neighbours.  
Having not passed much further, they met a Soldier, a Scotchman but one that had served under the marquis of Newcastle in England, who taking no notice of the other two Gentlemen, came to Montrose, and saluted him by his name: Montrose giving no heed unto him, as if he were no such man, the too officious soldier would not be so put off, but with a voice and countenance full of humility and duty began to cry out, What? Do not I know my Lord marquis of Montrose well enough? Go your way, and God be with you whithersoever you go. When he saw it was in vain to conceal himself from the man, he gave him a few crowns, and sent him away, nor did he discover him afterwards. But Montrose conceiving himself much concerned in these speeches, thought it the best course to make all the haste he could, and to run faster than the news of him could fly: nor did he spare any horseflesh, or scarce draw a bridle till after four day's travel he came to the house of his cousin Patrick Graham of Innisbrake, not far from the river of Tay, on that side of the Sherifdome of Perth which is next the Mountains. This Patrick being descended of the Noble family of Montrose, and not unworthy of so noble parentage, was deservedly in very great esteem with the marquis; who sojourned besides him for a little while in the day time in a mean cottage, and passed the nights alone in the neighbouring mountains. For he had sent away his companions unto his friends, that they might inform themselves exactly of the whole state of the Kingdom, and bring him word in what condition they found it.  
After a few days, having examined the matter with all the industry they could use, they return with nothing but sad and tragical news: That all the Subjects that were honest and loyal, lay under the tyranny of the Rebels; and of such as had been so hardy as to endeavour to recover their freedom with their swords, some were put to death, others fined, others being yet in prison, daily expected the worst their enemies could do: That the marquis of Huntley had laid down the arms which too unadvisedly he had taken up, at the first summons of the enemy; that indeed he had had no contemptible number of men, but the men wanted a good Commander; that his friends and dependants were exposed to the implacable malice and revenge of their enemies, and that he himself had fled to the utmost corner of the Island, and skulked upon another man's land. Montrose was very much troubled (as he had reason) at this news, especially at Huntley's error, and the ruin of the gordon's, who were men of singular loyalty and valour, and expert soldiers, therefore much lamented by him, that for no fault of theirs, they should come to so great misfortune. And now he began to cast about how he might draw them to himself, that they might try again the fortune of War under another General in the behalf of his most excellent Majesty.   

CHAP. V.  
IN the mean time there were some uncertain reports spread abroad among the Shepherds who kept their flocks in the Mountains, of certain Irish who were landed in the North of Scotland, and canged about the Mountains. Montrose conceived it not unlikely that these might be part of those Auxiliaries which the Earl of Antrim had promised should have been there four months before: but he had no certainty what they were, till at last some Letters came from some intimate friends of his, Highlanders, and from Alexander Mac-donald, a Scotchman also, to whom Antrim had given the Command in chief of those few Irish, directed to Montrose. These they had taken care to send to a certain friend of his, a sure man, that he might convey them if it were possible to Carlisle, where Montrose was believed still to remain. He, who never dreamt of Montrose's return into Scotland, though he sojourned by him, by chance acquainted Master Patrick Graham with the business, he promiseth to take charge of them, and undertaketh to see them safely delivered to Montrose, though be made a journey as far as Carlisle a purpose; and so by the good providence of God they came into his hands much sooner than could be expected. And he writes back, as from Carlisle, that they should be of good comfort, for they should not stay long either for sufficient assistance to join with them, or a General to command them; and withal requires them forthwith to come down into Athole.  
The people of Athole were engaged unto Montrose by many obligations, men whom he valued most of all the Highlanders, both for their Loyalty, Piety, Constancy, and singular Valour; and truly they made good his opinion of them to the very end of the War. The Irish, with a very few Highlanders who were almost all of Badenoth, receiving Montrose's commands, marched strait into Athole. He, who was not above twenty miles from them, comes to them immediately, and ere ever they looked for him, on foot, in the habit of a Mountainer, without any man along with him save the abovesaid Patrick Graham his guide and companion. And indeed the Irish would hardly be persuaded that that was Montrose; but when they saw him so salured, and only not adored like some great Deity, by the men of Athole and others that knew him well, they were over for joyed: for his coming to them was in exceeding good time, they being then in extreme danger to be cut off. For Argyle was in their rear with a strong and well ordered Army, the champain Country were ready in Arms before them, expecting if they should make down into the Plain, to trample them to dirt with their horses hoofs; the vessels that brought them over were burnt by Argyle, that they might have no way to retreat; nor would the Arthole men or any other that favoured the King venture any hazard with them, because they were strangers, and came not by the King's open and known Authority; nor had they any Commander of ancient Nobility, a thing by the Highlanders much set by, who would not fight under the command of Alexander Mac-donald, a man of no account with them; lastly their number was inconsiderable, being not above a eleven hundred, though ten thousand had been promised.  
The next day, the Arthole men to the number of eight hundred put themselves in arms, and offered their service most cheerfully to Montrose, who having got this handful of men, and earnestly commending his most righteous Cause to the protection of Almighty God, now desired nothing more than to be among the thickest of the enemy. Impatient therefore of further delay, that very day he marches through the Plains of Athole towards Ern; as well to make way for his friends and assistants easier access unto him (if any should rise upon the news) as that he might fall upon and amaze the Rebels, unlooked for, before they should be able to join together who lay at distance. Therefore passing by Weem, a castle of the Menizies, seeing they handled a Trumpeter whom he sent friendly unto them unworthily, and fell hotly upon the rear of his Army, he wastes their fields, and causes all their houses and corn to be fired; this was at the very first onset of the War, to strike terror into the enemy. The same night he passed over Tay, the greatest river in Scotland, with part of his Forces; the rest follow him very early the next day. When they were ready to march on, he gave Patrick Graham (of whom I shall have often to speak, and never without honour) at their earnest request the Command of the Athole men, and sent him with the nimblest of them he could pick out amongst them to scout before. He brings word he saw some Soldiers drawn up on the top of an hill at Buckinch: towards them Montrose makes strait. These proved to be commanded by the Lord Kilpont son to the Earl of Taith, a man of ancient Nobility, and descended of the graham's; and Sir john Drummond, Son to the Earl of Perth, a kinsman also of Montrose; who were both of them summoned by the Covenanters to join against the Irish as the Common enemy, and had with them five hundred Foot and no more; nor had they heard any certainty at all of Montrose's being in those parts. He resolveth with all speed to surprise them, and either to win them to his side, or to crush them to pieces. But they as soon as they heard that Montrose was General of those Forces, send unto him some of their chiefest friends to understand from him what he intended to do. He tells them he had the King's Authority for what he did, and was resolved to assert that Authority to the utmost of his power, against a most horrid Rebellion, conjuring them by all the obligations that were between them, that they would not think much to do their best endeavours for the best of Kings. Which as it was much becoming their high birth, and would be very acceptable service to the King, so it would be beneficial unto them for the present, and much to their honour with posterity and stranger, if they of all others should be the first that put to their helping hands to hold up a tottering Crown. They most readily without any delay came in unto him, for both of them, though underhand, favoured the King exceedingly.  
From them Montrose understood that the Covenanters were thick in arms at a Rendezvouz at Perth (the second City to Edinburgh) and there waited for their enemies falling down from Athole. He knowing also that Argyle with his Army was upon his back, lest he should be hemmed in on both sides, determins to go forward to Perth, that there he might either force the enemy to fight, or reduce the Town to the King's obedience. Marching therefore three miles from Buckinch, and allowing the Soldiers but a short time of refreshment, at the break of day he draws out his men. Nor was he above three miles more from the City, when the enemy was in view in a large and open Plain (called Tippermore) providing to fight. They were commanded by the Lord Elchoe, one that was taken for no great soldier: there were with him the Earl of Tullibardin, and the Lord Drummond, but this latter (as was conceived) against his will, for he and his father's whole family favoured the King in their hearts: Knights he had with him good store, among whom Sir James Scot (who heretofore had done good service under the State of Venice) was the most noted soldier. They had six thousand Foot and seven hundred Horse, and in confidence of their numbers, they had even devoured their enemies before they saw them. It was on Sunday the first of September, and it was given in charge to their Ministers, that in set speeches they should encourage the people to fight, not forgetting to mind them of their most holy Covenant forsooth. And to give them their due, they plied their lungs stoutly in the performance of that work; they most freely promised them in the name of Almighty God an easy and unbloudy victory; my, there was one Frederick Carmichael, one very much cried up for learning and holiness by the silly people, who was not afraid to deliver this passage in his Sermon, If ever God spoke word of truth out of my mouth, I promise you in his name assured victory this day.  
God's service being thus finely performed as they thought, they put their men in Battalia. Elchoe himself commanded the right flank, Sir James Scot the left, and the Earl of Tullibardin the battle. To the right and left flanks were added wings of horse, with which they made no doubt on so fair a Plain to him in the enemy. Montrose perceiving the great body of the enemy, and especially their strength in Horse, (for he had not so much as one Horseman, nor more than three lean horses) and being careful (as it concerned him) lest being encompassed with so great a number, they should fall upon him in the Front, Rear, and Flank, he caused his Army to be drawn out to as open order as could be possible, and makes his files only three deep. He commands the Ranks all to discharge at once, those in the first Rank kneeling, in the second stooping, and in the hindmost, where he placed the tallest men, upright: he chargeth them also to have a care of mispending their powder, of which they had so small store, and that they should not so much as make a shot till they came to the very teeth of their enemies; and assoon as they had discharged their muskets once a piece, immedidiately to break in upon the enemy with their swords and musket ends; which if they did, he was very confident the enemy would never endure the charge. Montrose undertakes the Command of the right Flank over against Sir James Scot, appoints the left to the Lord Kilpont, and the main Battle to Mac-Donald with his Irish: which was very providently ordered, lest the Irish who were neither used to fight with long Pikes, nor were furnished with swords, if they had been placed on either flank, should have been exposed to the fury of the Scotch-Horse.  
Montrose had sent unto the Commanders of the enemy, Drummond Son and Heir to the Lord Maderty, a noble Gentleman, and accomplished with , That Montrose, as well as the King's Majesty from whom he had received his Commission, was most lender of shedding his countries' blood, and had nothing more in his devotions, than that his victories might be written without a red Letter. And such a victory they might obtain as well as he, if they should please but to have the honour to conquer themselves, and before a stroke were struck to return unto their Allegiance. That for his part he was covetous of no man's wealth, ambitious of no man's honour, envious of no man's preferment, thirsty, after no man's blood; all that he desired was, that in the name of God they would at length give ear to sound counsel, and submit themselves and what belonged unto them unto the grace and protection of so good a King: who as he had hitherto condescended unto all things (either for matter of Religion or any thing else) which they thought good to ask, though to the exceeding great prejudice of his Prerogatives; so still they might find him like an indulgent Father ready to embrace his penitent children in his arms, although he had been provoked with unspeakable injuries. But if they should continue still obstinate in their Rebellion, he called God to witness, that it was their own stubborness that forced him to the present encounter. The Commanders of the enemies answered nothing at all to all this, but against the Law of Nations sent the Messenger (who out of mere love to his Country had undertaken the employment) prisoner with a company of rude Soldiers unto Perth, vowing assoon as they had got the victory, to cut off his head. But God was more merciful to him, and provided otherwise than they intended, for the safety of that gallant man.  
They were come within musket shot, when the enemies under the Command of the Lord Drummand sent out a forlorn hope to provoke Montrose to a light skirmish: he sends a few to meet them, who at first onset disorder and rout them, sending them back to their main body in no small fright. Montrose thought now was his opportunity, and that nothing could conduce more either to the encouragement of his own soldiers, or the terror of the enemy, than immediately to fall upon them as they were disordered and astonished with that fresh blow, nor would he give them time to rally or recover courage: therefore setting up a great shout he lets lose his whole Army upon them. The enemy first at distance discharge their Ordnance, which made more noise than they did harm, afterwards marching forward, their Horse labour to break in upon Montroses Soldiers; those, when their powder was spent, and many of them had neither Pikes nor scarce Swords, they stoutly entertain with such weapons as the place would afford, good stones; of which they poured in such numbers amongst them, with so greatstrength and courage, that they forced them to retreat, and to trouble them no more. For the Irish and Highlanders striving bravely whether should outvie the other in valour, bore up so eagerly when they gave ground, that at last they betook themselves to the nimbleness of their Horses heels. There was something more to do a little while longer in the right Flank. Sir james Scot disputed some time for the higher ground, but Montroses men being stronger bodied, and especially swifter footmen, obtained the Hill; from thence the Athole men rushed down with their drawn swords upon the enemy, and making little account of the musquetiers, who sent their bullets amongst them as thick as hail, closing with them (as they liked best to fight) they slashed and beat them down. At last the enemy not able to abide their fury, fairly ran away. Most of the Horse made so good speed as to save themselves; but there was a great slaughter of the Foot, whom they pursued for six or seven miles. There were conceived to be two thousand of the Covenanters slain, and more were taken prisoners: of whom some taking a Military Oath, took up arms again with the Conqueror; but perfidiously, for almost all forsook him afterwards. The rest taking a Solemn Protestation that they would never after bear arms against the King, he set at liberty. He took in Perth the same day, without doing the least harm unto the City, although most of the Citizens had fought against him in this battle; thinking by so great clemency to turn the hearts of the people towards their King, which was the only end to which he directed all his designs.   

CHAP. VI  
HE stayed three days at Perth, for there he exected many in those parts to come in with their friends and clients armed, who upon the noise of the late victory professed themselves most faithful to the King; but none came but the Earl of Kinowl with a few gentlemen of Gowry, nor did they continue very constant unto him neither. And by this time Argyle was at haud with a great Army of Foot of his own, and supplies of Horse were joined with him out of the South parts; therefore Montrose passing over the Tay took up his Quarters in the field (for other quarters he seldom had) near Couper a little village in Angus, where a famous Monastery once stood, but now lies on the ground. Here a brave young gentleman Sir Thomas Ogilby Son to the Earl of Airley, with others of the Gentry of Angus, met him, and readily offered him their service; whom he courteously entertained, and sent them a way with thanks, they pretending they only went to fit themselves for a march, nevertheless few of them returned besides the Ogilbies.  
Next morning by break of-day before the Revellier was beat, there was a great tumult in the Camp, the Soldiers ran to their arms, and sell to be wild and raging; Montrose guessing that it was some falling out between the Highlanders and the Irish, thrust himself amongst the thickest of them: there he finds a horrible murder newly committed, for the noble Lord Kilpont lay there basely slain. The murderer was a retainer of his own, one Stuart, whom he had treated with much friendship and familiarity, in somuch that that same night they lay both in a bed. It is reported that the base slave bade a plot to dispatch Montrose, and in regard of the great power he had with Kilpontin, he conceived he might draw him in to be accessary to the villainy, therefore taking him aside into a private place, he had discovered unto him his intentions; which the Nobleman highly detested, as was meet; whereupon the murderer fearing he would discover him, assaulted him unawares, and stabbed him with many wounds, who little suspected any harm from his friend and creature. The treacherous assassin by killing a Centinel escaped, none being able to pursue him, it being so dark that they could scarce see the ends of their Pikes. Some say the traitor was hired by the Covenanters to do this, others only that he was promised a reward if he did it. Howsoever it was, this is most certain, that he is very high in their favour unto this very day, and that Argyle immediately advanced him (though he was no soldier) to great commands in his Army. Montrose was very much troubled with the loss of this Nobleman, his dear friend, and one that had deserved very well both from the King and himself, a man famous for Arts and arms, and honesty; being a good Philosopher, a good Divine, a good Lawyer, a good Soldier, a good Subject, and a good man: And embracing the breathless body again and again with sighs and tears, he delivers it to his sorrowful friends and servants to be carried to his parents to receive its funeral Obsequies as became the splendour of that honourable Family.  
With the rest of his Forces Montrose marcheth to Dundee: the Town being proud of the number of its inhabitants, and having a Garrison out of Eife beside, refused to submit. And he, thinking it no wisdom to hazard the honour he had gotten by his late victory upon the doubtful success of a siege, turns away toward Esk; for he hoped that many of his friends and kindred, being men of greatest note in those parts, and who used to talk as highly what they would do for the King as any others, would be ready to join with him. But they having news of his approach withdrew themselves: only the Lord Ogilby Earl of Airley, a man of threescore years old, (with his two Sons, Sir Thomas, and Sir David, and some of his friends and clients, men of experienced resolutions) joined himself unto him: and with admirable constancy he went along with him through all fortunes unto the very end of the War; being in that almost universal defection, the other honour and ornament of the Nobility of Scotland besides Montrose.  
While Montrose was hereabouts, he receives intelligence, that some Commissioners from the Covenanters (of whom the Lord Burghly was the principal) lay at Aberdene with an Army, and laboured to assure unto themselves the Northern parts, upon which Montrose especially relied, either by fair means or foul. He determines to fight these immediately before Argyle could come up to them, therefore with long marches he hies thither: and possessing himself of the bridge upon the river of Dee, and drawing near the City, he found the enemy drawn up close beside it. Burghley commanded two thousand Foot, and five hundred Horse, whom he placed in wings; and having chosen his ground, and planted his great Guns before his men, he expected battle. Montrose had fifteen hundred Foot (for the Lord Kilponts soldiers were gone to convey their Lords dead body to his parents, and most of the Atholemen after the victory of Perth were gone home, from whence they were not far, laden with spoil) and just four and forty Horse, of whom he made two divisions, and mixing amongst them the best fire-men and Archers that he had (who in nimbleness and swiftness of body were almost as good as Horsemen) placed them on either wing, to prevent the falling of the enemy's horse upon his rear; which they performed most gallantly beyond the opinion or perhaps the belief of many. He gave the command of the right flank to James Hay and Nathaniel Gordon, and of the left to Sir William Rollock, all valiant men. The left wing of the enemy was commanded by Lewis Gordon, Son to the marquis of Huntley, a bold young man and hot spirited, but hair brained, and one that had forced out his father's friends and clients to fight with Montrose against their wills. He having gotten the plain and most commodious ground for fight on horseback, charged Montrose's right flank: which when he perceived, he commanded Rollock with his twenty Horse to their aid; and they, being backed with the gallantry of their Commanders, and the activity and stoutness of the Foot amongst them, received the charge with so much hardiness, that they four and forty, beat back full three hundred of the enemy, routing all and killing very many. But because they were so few they durst not follow the chase which was forborn by the great prudence of the Commanders, and proved to be of great consequence towards the obtaining of the victory: for the enemy charged Montrose's left Flank (which had no Horse) with their right Wing of Horse. Montrose therefore in a trice (now that Lewis Gordon and his men were fled) conveys the same Horse to the left Flank; who seeing they were not able to draw themselves into a Body like the enemies, fetched a compass about, and so escaped their first charge; then neatly wheeling about they fell upon the Flank of the enemy, and with their naked swords, beat, and cut, and vanquished, and put them to flight. They took prisoners one Forbes of Kragevar a Knight of great esteem with the enemy, and another Forbes of Boindle. Those that retreated got safe away, because that so few could not safely pursue them. They that commanded the enemy's Horse were not so much frighted with their loss, as vexed with the disgrace of a double repulse, therefore imputing their defeat to those light firelocks that were mixed with Montroses Horse, they themselves call for Footmen out of their main Body, intending to return with greater courage. Montrose suspected that, and was loath to engage those few gallant men again, (whose Horses were spent already in two sharp services,) with the enemy who was reinforced with fresh Foot. Therefore observing the enemy's Horse not yet rallied since their new rout, and standing at a sufficient distance from their Foot; he road about among his own Foot, (who had been sore galled already with the enemy's Ordnance) and bespeaks them to this effect: We do no good my (fellow soldiers) while we dispute the matter at thus much distance, except we close up with them how shall we know an able man from a weak, a valiant man from a coward? If ye would assail these timorous and brawnelesse shrimps with handy-blows, they will never be able to stand you. Go to therefore, fall about them with your swords and but-ends of your muskets, beat them down, drive them back, and make them pay what is justly due for their treason and rebellion. It was no sooner said, than they fall to work, break in upon the enemy, defeat them, rout them. Their Horse who expected Foot to come and line them, seeing them all run away, ran faster than they: whom the Conquerors were not able to follow, much less to overtake, so they scaped ; but the Foot paid for all, few of which escaped the Victor's hands. For having no other place to fly unto but into the City, Montrose's men came in thronging amongst them through the gates and posterns, and laid them on heaps all over the streets. They fought four hours upon such equal terms, that it was an even lay whether had the odds. At this Battle Montrose had some great Guns, but they were unserviceable, because all advantages of ground were possessed by the enemy; but, the enemy's Guns made no small havoc of his men. Among others, there was an Irishman that had his leg shot off with a Cannon bullet, only it hung by a little skin; he seeing his fellow-soldiers something sad at his mischance, with a loud and cheerful voice cries out, Come on, my Comrades, this is but the fortune of War, and neither you nor I have reason to be sorry for it. Do you stand to it as becomes you, and as for me, I am sure my Lord marquis, seeing I can no longer serve on foot, will mount me on horseback: So drawing out his knife, being nothing altered nor troubled, he cut asunder the skin with his own hand, and gave his leg to one of his fellow soldiers to bury. And truly, when he was well again, and made a Trooper, he often did very faithful and gallant service. This battle was fought at Aberdeen on the twelfth day of September, 1644. Then Montrose calling his soldiers back to their Colours entered the City, and allowed them two day's rest.   

CHAP. VII.  
IN the mean time news was brought that Argyle was hard by with much greater forces than those they dealt with last, the Earl of Lothian accompanying him with fifteen hundred Horse. Therefore Montrose removes from Aberdeen to Kintor a Village ten miles off, that he might make an easier access unto him for the gordon's (the friends and dependants of the marquis of Huntley) and others that were supposed much to favour the King's cause. From thence he sends Sir William Rollock to Oxford, to acquaint his Majesty with the good success he had hitherto obtained, and to desire supplies out of England, or some place else. That he had fought twice indeed very prosperously, but it could not be expected, that seeing he was so beset on all sides, with great and numerous Armies, he should be able to hold out always without timely relief. Still nothing troubled Montrose more, than that none of the gordon's, of whom he conceived great hopes, came in unto him. And there wanted not some of them, who testified their great affection to the service, but that Huntley the chief of the Family, being a backfriend to Montrose, had withheld them all, either by his own example, or private directions; and that himself being forced ro sculk in the utmost border of the Kingdom, envied that honour to another of which he had miss himself, and had forbidden, even with threats, all those with whom he had any power, to have any thing to do with Montrose, or to assist him either with their power or counsel. Which when he understood, he resolved to withdraw his Forces into the Mountains and Fastnesses, where he knew the enemy's horse (wherein their great strength consisted) could do them little service; and of their Foot (if they were never so many) relying upon the justice of his cause, and the valour of his soldiers, he made but little reckoning. Therefore he hide his Ordnance in a bog, and quitted all his troublesome and heavy carriages; And coming to the side of the river Spey, not far from an old castle called Rothmurk, he encamped there: with an Army, if one respect the number, but very small, but it was an expert and cheerful one, and now also something acquainted with victory.  
On the other side of the Spey, he finds the men of Cathnes, and Suderland, and Rosse, and Murray, and others to the number of five thousand up in arms to hinder his passage over the swiftest River in all Scotland, till such time as Argyle who marched after him was upon his back. Being oppressed, and as it were besieged with so many enemies on every side, that at least he might save himself from their Horse, the turned into Badenoth, a rocky and mountainous Country, and scarce passable for Horse. There, for certain days he was very sick, which occasioned so immoderate joy to the Covenanters, that they doubted not to give out he was quite dead, and to ordain a day of public Thanksgiving to Almighty God for that great deliverance. Nor were their Levites you may be sure backward in that employment in their Pulpits; for as if they had been of counsel at the Decree, and stood by at the execution, they assured the people, that it was as true as Gospel, that the Lord of Hosts had slain Montrose with his own hands. But this joy did not last them long, for he recovered in a short space; and as if he had been risen from the dead, he frighted his enemies much more than he had done before. For assoon as his disease would give him leave, he returned into Athole, and sent away Mac-donald with a party unto the Highlanders, to invite them to take up arms with him; and if they would not be invited, to force them. He himself goes into Angus, hoping it might happen that he should either force Argyle with his tired Horse unto his Winter quarters, or at least leave him far enough behind him. For Argyle had pursued him slowly, and at such distance, that it was apparent he thought of nothing less than of giving him battle. Therefore going through Angus, and getting over the Grainsbain (which going along with a continued ridge from East to West, divideth Scotland into two equal parts) he returned into the North of the Kingdom. And now that he had left Argyle so far behind him, that he might safely take some time to recruit, he went to Strathbogy, that he might meet with the gordon's, and persuade them to engage with him. But he lost his labour, for they were forestalled by Huntley, and after his example played least in sight. For such as were generous and daring spirits, though they were loath to provoke the indignation of their Chief, yet they could not but be ashamed, that at a time when there might be so much use of them, they did nothing. Besides, the Lord Gordon, Huntley's eldest Son (a man of singular worth and accomplishment) was detained by Argyle his Uncle by the Mother's side: the Earl of Alboin the second Son was enclosed within the siege of Carlisle; and Lewis another Son was of the enemy's side; so that there was no one of Huntley's family under whose authority they should take up Arms.  
Notwithstanding Montrose quartered there a great while; in which time almost every other night marching, seven, or eight, or ten miles with a party of light Foot (for Horse he had few or none) he used to give alarms to the enemy, beat up their quarters put them to flight, and frequently to bring home horse and men prisoners. And because he always brought his men safe off, it was strange to see how cheerful and daring his soldiers were; so that though their number was not great, there was nothing that he would lead them on unto, that seemed great to them. At last when he despaired of any good to be done with the gordon's, at the end of October he removed from Strathbogy, and came to Faivy Castle and possessed it. There he was like to have been utterly undone by the bad and false intelligence his Scouts, in whom he put great confidence, brought unto him concerning the enemy: for those whom they persuaded him were scarce got over Grainsbain, were on a sudden encamped within two miles of him. Argyle and Lothian had there two thousand five hundred Foot, and twelve hundred Horse: Montrose, now when Mac-donald was absent with a party, had fifteen hundred Foot and about fifty Horse. If he should have descended into the Plain with so small strength, it had been madness; and to keep a Castle (and no strong one neither) he thought dishonourable and derogatory to the credit of his late victories. Therefore he bethought himself of another course, he draws his men up unto a higher hill which overlooked the Castle. The soil of the hill was rough, and there were hedges also and ditches cast up there by the Husbandmen for the fences of their fields, which were almost as useful as Brest-works. But before he had appointed every one his ground to draw up in, those few of Huntley's dependants which accompanied Montrose from Strathbogy, in the sight of all people fairly betook them to their heels. And on the other side, the enemy driving fiercely up the hill, made themselves masters of no small part of it; which if they had been able to maintain with the same vigour that they had obtained it, Montrose had been a lost man: whose Soldiers, discouraged both by the timorous flight of some of their own, and the multitude of their enemy's forces, were well near ready to turn their backs; them Montrose presently put life and courage into by his own example and presence, by putting them in mind of their former achievements, and their own sense of their wont prowess. Moreover, he thus bespoke a young Irish Gentleman, one Colonel O Kyan, Go thy way, O Kyan, with such men as thou hast at hand, and drive me those fellows out of yonder ditches, that we may no more be troubled with them. The gallantry of O Kyan Montrose had often seen and commended, nor did that truly valiant man deceive the General's opinion of him, for he quickly firretted the enemy out of the ditches, though they much out-numbred his men, and were seconded with a party of Horse. And not only so, but gained some bags of powder which the enemy had left behind them for haste, a very seasonable prey, of which they had great need. Nor doth a notable example of the forwardness of the Soldiers seem to me unworthy in this place to be remembered; for one of them looking upon the bags of powder, What (saith he) have they given us no bullets? Marry but we must fetch bullets too from those sparing distributors of Ammunition. As if it had been altogether the enemy's duty to provide them necessaries for the Warr.  
In the mean time his Horse (which were but fifty) being disposed in a place of danger, he timely secured them by lining them with musketeers. For Lothian charged them with five whole troops, who before they had crossed over half a field that lay between them, being scared with our shot, wheeled about, and returned to the place from whence they came. Montrose's men being encouraged with these two successes, could hardly be kept off from falling on with a shout upon the whole body of the enemy: whom Montrose refrains rather with a kind of commendation of them (as was meet) than reproof, only bids every one know his own duty, and wait his commands. Towards night, Argyle having done nothing to any purpose, retreats two miles off, and slept not that night. But the next day, when he was told that Montrose's soldiers had great scarcity of powder and bullet, drawing his men into the same ground again, he made as though he would have charged up the Hill, and beaten Montrose out of his hold. But when his heart failed him in that enterprise, besides some skirmishes between small parties while the main bodies kept their ground, there was nothing done that day neither. All this while Montrose sends for all dishes, and flagons, and chamberpots, and what other pewter vessels could be had, and caused them to be melted into bullet; yet when that was done the soldiers had not enough. With which great inconvenience the soldiers were so little troubled, that one as often as he made a shot (which he presumed never miss) he would say merrily to his Comerades, As sure as can be I have broken one Traitors face with a chamber-pot. Nor will any one wonder if Montrose's men were oft in want of powder and other necessaries for War, when he considers they had no other way to supply themselves with them, but out of their enemy's stock. And now the second day being almost spent, Argyle withdraws his men over the river, the way that they came, three Scotch miles (which make one Dutch mile) off. The time was thus spent at Faivy for several days, Argyle carrying nothing away with that great Army, but disgrace among his friends, and contempt among his enemies; for it was wholly imputed to his cowardice that there he had not made an absolute conquest.  
At last Montrose (lest by marching away in the day time he might have some of his Rear cut off by the enemy's Horse) takes the advantage of the night to return to Strathbogy: where he intended to make some stay, both because the cragginess of the Country was a good security to his Soldiers against the incursions of the enemy's Horse; and because it was near those places from whence he daily expected Mac-donald, with what Highlanders he could raise. The next day the enemy pursues him with an intention to force him to fight with them in the open field: and truly assoon as they came in sight of them, drawing up their men they made ready to battle, as if they would have fallen on with all their power. But a forlorn hope of Highlanders was sent before by Argyle to engage Montrose in a light skirmish, who were manfully entertained and repulsed. Then Montrose having possessed himself of the highest ground, Argyle altars his resolution, and thinks upon that which was more safe and less honourable. He desires a Cessation, proposes that engagements may be given on both sides for a Conference and Treaty; yet at the same time, he did not only tempt the Soldiers to forsake Montrose, by promising them indemnity and rewards to boot; but (which is a shame to say even of an enemy) set a great price upon Montrose's head, to be paid unto any assassin or murderer that should bring it in. Of which, when Montrose was well assured, (who well knew the disposition of the man to be more bend to overreach and betray, than to fight with his enemy) he thought nothing concerned him more, than with all speed to bring off those small Forces he had, as far as he could, both from Argyles Horse and knavery.  
Therefore calling a council of War, he declares his opinion; they all approve his wisdom, and promise to continue their fidelity and their best endeavours to serve him. Therefore he resolveth upon a long march the next night, as far as Badenoth; and that the Soldiers might be lighter for so great a journey, he sent the Carriages before with a guard, and bid the Soldiers make themselves ready against the next day, as if they were to fight. And now the Carriages were on the way, when on a sudden news came that Forbes of Craigevar, a prisoner, (to whom upon the engagement of his Honour for his true imprisonment Montrose had given the liberty of the Camp) and that Sibbalds, who besides Rollock was only of his counsel and company when he came out of England, and some others, had made an escape and run away to the enemy. He was troubled at the perfidiousness of the men, and justly suspected that they, to ingratiate themselves with the enemy, would betray his counsels. Therefore he strait called back the Convoy with the Carriages, and seemed as if he had wholly altered his resolutions. But indeed he altered them not, but thought it fit to delay them for a time, that the intelligence which the enemy received from his fugitives might appear unto them idle and uncertain. But after four days he sent the Carriages away again before him, and making fires through all the Camp, he placed all the Horse he had within view of the enemy, as if they kept their guard there, till such time as the Foot were marched far enough from danger, and then brought the Horse also safe off, and all by break of day came to Balveny. And now being safe from having their quarters beaten up by the enemy's Horse, and they no further pursuing, it being also the very deep of winter, he allowed a few days unto the refreshment of his Soldiers. And at this time especially Argyle began to appear in his own colours, and his subtleties were manifested. For most of the Noblemen, Gentlemen, and prime Soldiers that were with Montrose (who setting aside Irish men and Highlanders, had more Commanders than private Soldiers in his army) deserted him, and fell off to Argyle. Some of them pretended sickness, others disability to make such long marches in winter time over mountains uninhabited; unpassable, full of nothing but stones and briars, for the most part deep in snow, and never traveled over by any man alive. And therefore sore against their wills, as they said, and being compelled to departed by an extreme necessity, they desired his Pass: which he denied to none that asked; but yet looked upon them rather with a kind of indignation and scorn, than approbation or compassion. Nor can one easily say how much the example of such men weakened his Forces, and how much it disheartened many that intended to have listed themselves under his Command. But the old Lord Ogilby the Earl of Airley, a man of threescore years old, and not very healthy neither, together with two of his Sons most worthy of such a Father, Sir Thomas and Sir David, could never be persuaded, even in the extremest hazard of their lives, to departed from him.   

CHAP. VIII.  
MOntrose returning from Balveny to Badenoth net a very faithful intelligencer, who gave him notice that Argyle with his Foot (for his Horse were gone to their winter-quarters) lay at Dunkeldon, and that from thence he used all his industry to persuade the Athole men to revolt. He, although he was assured of their loyalty, nevertheless with incredible haste goes down into Athole. For in one night he marched with his Forces four and twenty miles, through ways untrodden, untilled, full of snow, waste, and never inhabited by mortal man, to the intent he might fall upon Argyle, whiles he had not his Horse about him. But he being frighted with the report of his coming, when Montrose was yet sixteen miles off, bid his men shift for themselves, and he himself fled as fast as he could into Perth, wherein the Covenanters had a strong garrison. Mac-donald was by this time returned, and brought along with him the Chief of the Mac-renalds with his men to the number of five hundred: and Montrose himself added to that number Patrick Graham with some choice men of Athole. Being recruited with these, he marcheth to the lake out of which the river of Tay breaks forth, to pass from thence through Bredalbin into the Country of Argyle; for he thought an enemy could never be so happily overthrown as in his own Country. And truly he had many strong reasons for that resolution. In the first place Argyle ' s power and authority amongst the Highlanders rendered him formidable to his Peers and Neighbours, and so conduced much both to raise and foment the whole Rebellion; For assoon as any one adventured to oppose the Covenanters, or dispute their Command, presently Argyle gathering a tumultuous army of five or six thousand Highlanders (who for all that served him against their wills) crushed him in pieces; and therefore he had all the reason in the world to bring down the power of so seditious, and covetous, and cruel a man. Moreover, those Highlanders who did not only favour the King's cause, but hated Argyle hearty, as having had a sufficient experience of his Tyranny, durst not appear as they would, till he was first subdued. And lastly the Lowlands of the Kingdom were maintained by the Covenanters with strong Garrisons, and great bodies of Horse: so that except he had a mind utterly to undo his friends, he had no other place to winter his Soldiers in but that. And being pressed with these reasons, with long and foul journeys, and incredible speed, he cometh into Argyle.  
The Earl at that time was listing soldiers in his Country, and had appointed the day and place for a Rendezvouz, He lived securely in the castle of Inncrare, supposing no enemy to be within a hundred miles of him. For he could never before be brought to believe that an Army could get into Argyle on foot in the midst of summer, and many times heretofore he has been heard to brag, that he had rather lose a hundred thousand Crowns, than any mortal man should know the way by which an Army could enter into his Country. When he therefore suspected nothing less, the trembling Cow-herds came down from the hills, and told him the enemy was within two miles. He not knowing what to do, and almost besides himself for fear, at last commits himself to a fisherboat, and flies away; leaving his friends, and servants, and the whole Country to their fortunes, and the mercy of an enemy. It is a rough and mountainous country, barren of corn, for little or none is sown there, but very commodious for pasture, the chief riches of the inhabitants consisting in cattles. Montrose divides his Army into three Brigades, and sends them about the country; one Brigade was commanded by the chief of the Mac-renalds, another by Mac-donald, and the third by himself. They range about all the country, and lay it waste; as many as they find in arms going to the Rendezvouz appointed by their Lord, they slay, and spare no man that was fit for War: nor do they give over till they had driven all serviceable men out of that Territory, or at least into holes known to none but themselves. Then they fire the villages and Cottes, and lay them level with the ground: in that retaliating Arygle with the same measure he had meted unto others, who was the first in all the Kingdom that prosecuted his Countrymen with fire and sword. Lastly, they drive their cattles. Nor did they deal more gently with others who lived in Lorn, and the neighbour parts, that acknowledged Argyles power. These things lasted from the 13. of December 1644. to the 28. or 29. of January following.  
And indeed, he used never more to acknowledge the singular providence and fatherly mercy of Almighty God, than in bringing him and his men safe out of those places; for if but two hundred Soldiers had handsomely kept those Passes, they might easily either have cut off, or at least driven back all his Forces. Beside, if the Cow-herds had but driven away their cattles (which they might easily have done) in those barren places, he must have starved for hunger. Or thirdly if it had been a sharp and stormy winter, (and it seldom chances to be otherwise there) they had either been drowned in snow-drifts, or starved and benumbed with cold. But merciful God took away both courage from the enemy, and its ordinary temper from the air; and supplied their want of bread with great abundance of flesh. At length departing out of Argyle, and passing through Lorn, Glencow, and Logh-Aber, he came to Logh-Nesse. And now he expected that all the Highlanders, being either frighted with the example of Argyle, or freed from the fear of him, should be ready to assist the Kings most righteous cause, and vindicate it with their arms against the Rebels.  
But now lest Montrose's heroical spirit should ever want matter to work upon, he is advertised that the Earl of Seaforth, a very powerful man in those parts (and one of whom he had entertained a better opinion) with the Garrison of innerness which were old soldiers, and the whole strength of Murray, Rosse, Sutherland, Cathnes, and the sept of the fraser's, were ready to meet him with a desperate army of five thousand Horse and Foot. Montrose had only fifteen hundred, for those of Clanrenald, and most of the Atholemen, suspecting no such need of them, and being laden with the spoils of Argyle, had got leave to go home, on condition they should return when they were sent for. But for all that Montrose was not afraid to give battle to that disorderly Army: for although he knew those of the Garrison to be old soldiers, yet he accounted of the rest of the multitude (which were newly raised out of Husbandmen, Cow-herds, Pedees', Tavern-boyes, and Kitchen-boys) to be altogether raw and unserviceable.  
And now while he thought of nothing but fight these, a trusty Messenger overtakes him, and informs him, that Argyle having gathered forces out of the lower parts of the Kingdom, and joined unto them such Highlanders as yet adhered unto him, had come down into Logh-Aber with three thousand Foot, and stayed at an old Castle called Innerlogh, upon the bank of Logh-Aber. Montrose who well understood the crafty and cowardly disposition of Argyle, by that had a good guess at his design; which was to follow after him at a good distance, that he might be first engaged with those Northern-men, and then to make his own advantage of the event of that battle; but by no means to fight himself, if he could help it. Therefore Montrose considered that it would be a matter of greater concernment, and of less danger, to let men see that Argyle was not invincible, even in the Highlands, where he was adored by the simple people like some great-little god: and as for the Northern Army, he conceived that upon the report of a Victory obtained against Argyle, it would moulder away, and easily be brought into order. Montrose was thirty miles absent from Innerlogh, neither would he go the high way thither (though he placed guards in it, lest the enemy should have any intelligence of his moving) but straight over Logh-Aber hills, in untrodden paths, and only known to Cowherds and Huntsmen, (for in those mountains there are great herds of Deer) by a way that never man led an Army before; and killing their Scouts, was upon the back of the enemy ere he was ware. They being but little affrighted with so unexpected an accident, run to their arms, and immediately prepare themselves for battle. When Montrose perceived them to be in a posture so quickly, he stood still a little while till his Rear being tired with so hard a march could come up unto his Front. It was night, but the Moon shone so clearly that it was almost as light as day; all night they stood to their arms, and making frequent sallies and skirmishes one with another, neither gave the other leave to rest or retreat. All others earnestly expected day, only Argyle being more advised than the rest conveyed himself away at dead of the night; and this second time taking boat saved himself from the peril of battle, as if he intended to be Umpire between the two Armies, and being himself out of gunshot stand spectator of other men's valour, and well too. At the break of day, Montrose ordered his men as he intended to fight, and the enemy were as forward to do the like. For they did not yet think that Montrose was there (as some prisoners afterwards confessed) but some Colonel or Captain of his with a party only of his forces.  
When the Sun was up, on the second of February (which is Candelmass day) a trumpet sounding struck no small terror into the enemy. For besides that attumpet shown they had Horse with them, and therefore was a sound with which those parts were little acquainted, it discovered also that Montrose himself was there Nevertheless the prime of the campbel's (that's the surname of Argyles family) being gallant men and stout, and deserving to fight under a better Chieftain in a better cause, cheerfully begin the battle. But their soldiers that were in the Front having only once discharged their muskets, and Montrose's men pressing on fiercely to come to the dint of sword, began to run. Whom they, raising a great shout, so eagerly pursued, that as it were at one assault they routed them all; and had the kill of them with a most horrible slaughter for nine miles together. Of the enemy were slain fifteen hundred, among whom were very many Gentlemen of the campbel's, who were chief men of the family, and of good account in their country, who fight but too valiantly for their Chieftain, had deaths answerable to their names, and fell in Campobelli, in the Field of War, (I cannot say the bed of Honour.) Their fortune Montrose extremely lamented, and saved as many of them as he was able, taking them into his protection; whiles Argyle himself being gotten into a boat, and rowed a little way off the shore, securely looked on whiles his kindred and soldiers were knocked on the head. Some Colonels and Captains that Argyle had brought thither out of the Lowlands fled into the Castle; whom when the Castle was surrendered, and quarter was given unto them, Montrose used courteously; and after he had done them several good offices of humanity and charity, freely, let them departed. In this fight Montrose had many wounded, but none slain saving three private soldiers: but the joy of this great victory was much abated by the wounds of that truly honourable Sir Thomas Ogilby, Son to the Earl of Airley, of which after a few days he died. He was one of Montrose's dearest friends; one who had done very good service for the King in England under the Command of his Father-in-law the Lord Ruthien Earl of Forth and Branceforde, (a man known all the world over for his noble achievements.) Nor was he less a scholar than a soldier, being a new ornament to the family of the Ogilbies, whose honourable deaths-wounds for his King and Country had no small influence upon that days victory. Montrose being very much afflicted with the loss of him, causeth his body to be carried into Athole, where he was interred with as sumptuous a funeral as that place and those times could afford. But the power of the campbel's in the Highlands, which for these many ages past hath been formidable to their neighbours was by this overthrow clearly broken to pieces; and by it also a way opened unto Montrose to do his business the more easily thence forward. For the Highlanders being warlike men, and let lose from the hated tyranny of Argyle, now began to offer themselves willingly unto the King's service.   

CHAP. IX.  
THe soldier who was almost spent with this sore travel, having refreshed himself for a few days, Montrose measuring over again Logh-Aber hills, returneth to Logh-Nesse. And from thence viewing by the way the coasts of Harrick, Arne, and Narne, came to the river of Spey. Here he is told, that there was no small party of the enemy at Elgin, (which is the chief town of Murray, a Country beyond the Spey.) Montrose hies towards these, either to draw them to his side, or to suppress them: but the very report of his advancing blew away that cloud, for they in great amazement shifted for themselves every one whither he could. Montrose nevertheless goes on his march, and takes in Elgin by surrender on the fourteenth day of February. At which time the Lord Gordon, eldest Son to the marquis of Huntley, (a man who can never be sufficiently commended for his excellent endowments) came off openly to the King's side (from his Uncle by whom he had been detained against his will) and, with not many but very choice friends and clients, voluntarily did his duty, and offered his service to Montrose as the King's Deputy and Vicegerent. Montrose first welcomed him with all civility, and gave him many thanks, afterwards, when he came to understand him more inwardly, joined him unto himself in the entirest bonds of friendship and affection. Now because the inhabitants of Murray were extremely addicted to the Covenanters, they hide themselves in their lurking places, nor were any supplies to be expected from men so maliciously disposed; Therefore he drew his Forces to this side the Spey, to raise the Countries of Bamph and Abordeen by the presence, example, and authority of the Lord Gordon. So having got together what forces he could in those places, with two thousand Foot and two hundred Horse, passing the river of Dee he came into Marne, and encamped not fare from Fethercarne.  
At Breichin some seven miles from thence, Sir John Hurry a stout man and an active, and famous also in foreign parts for Military exploits, being General of the Horse for the Covenanters, had the Command over the whole Forces there. He came out with six hundred Horse to discover the strength of Montrose: he conceived Montrose had but very few Foot and no Horse, and if he should but descend into the plain, he made account to make short work with him; and howsoever it should happen, he made no question but to secure himself. Montrose to draw him on, hide the rest of his men in a bottom, and made show only of his two hundred Horse, but lined them (as he used) with his nimblest Musquetiers. Which Horse when Hurrey saw, and observed they were so few, he drew up his men and charged. But when he perceived (too late) the Foot that ran close after Montrose's Horse, he sounded a retreat, and Hurry himself turning his men before him behaved himself stoutly in the rear. When they turned their backs Montrose's soldiers drive on, let fly, and lay about them, until being got over the river of Eske, the enemy scarce safe under the protection of Night, betook themselves to shelter: nor did they think themselves secure till after a race of four and twenty miles long they came to Dundee. Then they that had pursued them so far returned to Fethercarne, and thence the next day to Breichin. Here Montrose understood, that Baily a Commander of great account had been fetched out of England, to be General of the enemy's Forces; that Hurry with his Horse was joined unto him, and that they had in their Army many old soldiers brought back out of England and Ireland; so that now the Covenanters going about their business in so great sadness, Montrose must expect not only other kind of soldiers, but also most expert Commanders to deal with.  
Therefore, lest he should chance to be hemmed in with their Horse (in which their chief strength lay) he chooseth his most convenient way by the foot of Grainsbaine towards the river of Tay intending also if it were possible to get over the Forth, where he believed the King could not want assistance. Which design of his was not unknown to the enemy: therefore they send these Commanders against him with a powerful Army; who no sooner came in sight than Montrose offered them battle. But they intended nothing less than to try it out with him that way, nor would adventure so much as but to fall upon the rear of Montrose as he marched off. So he went to the Castle of Innerwharity, and the next day to a village called Eliot. And here again leaving the mountains behind him, he descends into the plain, and by a Trumpet sends a challenge unto Bailie to fight. Between their two Armies ran the river I'll, which neither could safely pass over without the others consent. Montrose therefore desires Baily to give him leave safely to come over to that side, which motion if Baily should not like of, he offered him a safe and free passage, on condition, that he would engage his honour to fight without further delay. Baily answered, he would look to his own business himself, and would not have other men teach him when to fight. Thus the two armies faced one another many days, neither the enemy endeavouring to pass their Forces over the river against Montrose, nor he hoping to make good his pass unto them by reason of his scarcity of Horse. Marching therefore to Dunkel, he thought to pass the Tay, at which time by a sudden and unexpected mischief he was almost utterly ruined. It was thus, Lewis Gordon Son to marquis Huntley, who had born arms against Montrose in the battle of Aberdeen, by the mediation of his noble Brother the Lord Gordon had been received into favour. He either by true or counterfeit letters from the old fox in the hole; his father, tempted and carried away with him almost all the gordon's, without the knowledge of his Brother; and basely deserted Montrose and him, when they were ready to be engaged with the enemy. And truly it is hard to say to whether of both he bore less good will.  
Montrose being sore afflicted with this unexpected revolt, although he was of necessity to return into the North to gather new Forces, yet made as if nevertheless he went strait towards the Forth; and his scouts came all with full cry, that all the enemy were got over the Tay, that by taking the fords of the Forth they might hinder his passage. He, lest he should seem all this while to have done nothing, thought it well worth his labour, if by the way he could take in Dundee, a most seditious town, for that being the securest haunt and receptacle of the Rebels in those parts; and a place that had contributed as much as any other towards the Rebellion, was kept by no other garrison but of the Townsmen. He therefore commanded the weakest and worst armed men to go along by the bottom of the hills and to meet him at Breichin: and he taking with him what Horse he had (which were but one hundred and fifty in all) and six hundred nimble musquetiers, departing from Dunkel about twelve of the clock in the night, made so great haste, that he came to Dundee by ten of the clock in the morning on the fourth day of April. He summons the Townsmen to deliver the Town to the King, which was the only way to preserve their own lives and its safety; if they would not, they must expect fire and sword. They began to make delays, and first to give no answer at all, afterward to commit the Trumpet to prison. Which affront provoked Montrose so highly, that he stormed the Town in three places at once: The Townsmen stood out a while and mantained their works, but they had as good have done nothing, for the Irish and Highlanders would take no repulse, but with a resolute assault some beat them out of their sconces, and possessing themselves of their Ordnance turned it against the Town; others beat open the gates, and possess themselves of the Church and Marketplace, and others set the Town on fire in several places. And indeed had not the common soldiers by an unseasonable avarice and intemperance addicted themselves to pillage, that rich Town had been immediately all on fire. But as it happened, it was better both for the conquerors and the conquered that it was not, for all the intelligence that the Scouts had brought in concerning the enemies coming over the Tay was absolutely false: it may be they saw a few Troops (and many they did not see) pass over it, which they believed to have been the whole body of the enemy, and by that means were like to have undone both themselves and the whole party.  
Montrose stood upon the top of a hill close unto Dundee, looking upon this onslaught, when his almost breathless Scouts brought him news that Baily and Hurrey with three thousand Foot and eight hundred Horse were scarce a mile off. He immediately calls his men out of the Town, which he had much to do to persuade them; for the soldiers counting themselves secure of the victory, and thinking they had done a good days work already, and besides being a little heated in drink and much taken with so rich a booty, could hardly be brought to leave the Town they had so newly taken. And truly before they could be beaten off from the spoil, the enemy was come within musket-shot of them. And now (as it uses to happen in great dangers) Montrose's counsel of War were of different opinions; some persuaded that Montrose should shift for himself with the Horse he had, because they conceived it not possible that he should be able to bring off the Foot, who had been wearied with a march of above twenty miles in the morning, after that, were spent in a hot fight at noon, and now were overladen either with drink or prey; especially seeing he was to march twenty or perhaps thirty miles from Dundee before they could rest in safety. That this was the fortune of War, and to be patiently under-gone, especially since he had given ofttimes far greater overthrows to the enemy than this could be to him. That there was no doubt, but that as long as he was safe, his Forces might be easily recruited; and on the other side, if he miscarried, the case was desperate, and they were utterly undone. Others cried out, that all was lost already, and there was nothing left them but to die with honour; and therefore if charging courageously they should break in amongst the thickest of the enemy, no one could say but that they fell gallantly. Montrose concurred with neither of these; for he could never be brought to forsake so good men as he had in the extremest danger, and preferred an honourable death among his soldiers, before dishonourable safety. But for all that, for men that were so much out-numbred by them, to run desperately upon the enemy, and as it were to dash out their own brains against the stones, was the very last refuge, and not hastily to be made use of; therefore as we ought not to tempt Almighty God by our own wretchlessness and negligence, so neither aught any valiant man or good Christian despair of his assistance in a just cause. Lastly, he exhorts every one to do his own part, and refer the success to God, and other things to his own care and industry.  
Immediately he sends out four hundred Foot before him, and commands them, that as much as they possibly could without breaking their ranks they should make all speed. Then he appoints two hundred of the activest men he had to follow them; and he with his Horse brings up the Rear. The Horse trooped on in so open order, that if occasion were they might have room enough to receive light musquetiers. He believed the enemy's Foot were not able to overtake them; and if their Horse only should charge them (which they would hardly adventure to do) he conceived it was no matter of extreme difficulty to make their part good against them: besides the Sun was ready to set, and the darkness of the night would be commodious for their retreat. The enemy understanding the number of them that went away first by some prisoners they had taken, and after that by their own view, assoon as they saw they were disposed rather for a journey than a battle, divide their Forces into two parts, and so pursue them. Wherein their intention was not only to fall upon the Rear and the Flank at once, but also to secure against them all passages up to the Highlands: And their Commanders the more to encourage their Soldiers to a hot pursuit, proposed twenty thousand Crowns to any one that could bring in Montrose's head. And now the Van of the enemy's Horse began to close up unto the retreaters, whereupon those good musquetiers that lined Montrose's Horse welcomed one, and another, and another of the forwardest of them with bullets in their sides; with whose mischance the rest becoming more wary, abated of the eagerness of their pursuit. And Montrose's soldiers when they saw they had been too hard for the enemy's Foot at a march, and had got before them, taking heart and courage they skirmished stoutly with their Horse, until the night parted the quarrel. And to rid themselves some way of the enemy, took their way Eastward many miles by the sea-coast. However that was not their way, but to go Northward toward Grainsbain, and so to deliver themselves from their mischievous Horse. But Baily had laid the greatest part of his Army between them and Grainsbain, that there might be no place for them to retreat unto.  
Therefore at the dead of the night when they were not far from Aberbroth, Montrose commands his men to make a stand a while. And long they stood not, before he considering with himself that all ways and passages strait into the Mountains might be laid by the enemy's Horse (and he was not mistaken,) commands them to face about, and march South-west. And by this art (though with intolerable pains) he beguiled the Pursuers, whom that same night he passed by; and then turning Northward, by the next morning at Sunrising passed over South-Eske at a place not far from Careston Castle: and from thence sent to Breichin to fetch those men which he had there with the Carriages. But that had not needed, for they upon the report of this expedition had provided for themselves better & more timely, and had taken the Mountains. While he stayed at Careston, the Scouts brought him word on a sudden that the enemy's Horse were in sight, and their Foot being refreshed with victuals and sleep marched after them apace. Montrose himself being now within three miles of the Mountains was not much afraid of them, but his soldiers who had not slept for three days and two nights, but had all that while been either on their march, or in fight, were overcome with so dead sleep, that they could hardly be raised without pricks and wounds. The enemy being at last entertained with a light skirmish suffered Montrose to possess himself of the bottom of the Mountains, and having done nothing to the purpose retreated from their vain pursuit. So he and his men came to Gleneske.  
And this was that so much talk'd-of Expedition of Dundee, infamous indeed for the mistake of the Scouts, but as renowned as any for the valour, constancy, and undaunted resolution of the General: and even admirable for the hardiness of the Soldier in encountering all extremities with patience; for threescore miles together they had been often in fight, always upon their march, without either meat, or sleep, or the least refreshment. Which whether foreign Nations or after times will believe, I cannot tell, but I am sure I deliver nothing but what is most certain of mine own knowledge. And truly amongst expert Soldiers, and those of eminent note both in England, Germany, and France, I have not seldom heard this Expedition of his preferred before Montrose's greatest victories.   

CHAP. X.  
ANd now being safe beyond expectation, Montrose bids the soldiers take their rest, whiles he determines thus of the whole affair of the War. He sends the Lord Gordon, together with those that had continued loyal and dutiful after the revolt of his brother Lewis, into their own Country, both that they might recall those whom his Brother had seduced away, and recruit themselves by levying new forces. Which he cheerfully and courageously performed, and though he spared none, yet he was most severe with those that had been authors or accessaries to his Brother's defection: and he was the more active in that business, that he might acquit himself of any suspicion. Nor indeed did Montrose himself or any other more detest that villainy of Lewis Gordon, than that noble Lord his Brother. As for Montrose, he with a small party (for he kept but five hundred Foot and fifty Horse with him) marches through Angus into Perthshire, that he might distract the enemy till such time as he had made up his Army with recrutes from every side. Neither was he out in his aim, for the Covenanters had sent Hurrey the Lieutenant General of the Horse, with a Command into the North, of a party of six hundred old Foot, and two hundred Horse; that he might strengthen their own-side, and suppress the Lord Gordon. And Baily himself stayed with an Army at Perth, as in the very heart of the Kingdom, ready to wait upon all motions. Montrose was twelve miles off at a village called Kreif, where Baily understood he quartered securely with a very small party: who being diligent upon all occasions, set out from Beth at the beginning of the night with all his Army, that by a speedy march he might at break of day fall unexpected into Montrose's quarters. But he found Montrose careful enough of his business, and his Foot ready in arms either to march or fight; but he with his Horse came up towards the enemy to discover their number and strength. And when he found them to be two thousand Foot and five hundred Horse, he commanded his men to march speedily away, and following the course of the river Erne to make good the fords thereof: he with the few Horse that he had was their Rearguard, lest they should have been trodden in pieces by the enemy's Cavalry. And truly he so valiantly repulsed the fierce assault of the enemy, that by killing some, and routing others, he forced them to retreat, till at last his Foot after six mile's march had made themselves Masters of the passes of Erne. So the enemy retreated with the loss of their labour, and Montrose that same night being the eighteenth of April, quartered at Logh-Erne, and came the next day to Balwider, where the Earl of Alboine met him, who with some few more had escaped out of Carlisle, and hearing tidings of Montrose's good success, had at last returned into his Country.  
Leaving Balwidir they advanced to Logh-Catrinet, where they receive intelligence that Hurrey had raised great forces in the North, and was ready to engage with the Lord Gordon; and therefore there was danger that he being an active Soldier and a good Commander should be able to overmaster that gallant young Gentleman. Therefore Montrose thought it necessary to oppose. Hurry assoon as was possible, as well to secure so dear a friend from imminent danger, as to be nibbling at the enemy's Forces as he found them asunder, and to cut off that power by piecemeal, which he well knew if it were all in a body would be above his match. Therefore by long and continued journeys passing by Balwidir, and a Lake of four and twenty miles long, out of which the river of Tay breaks forth, through Athole and Angus, and over Grainsbain, through a vale called Glenmuck, he came to the midst of Marre. There he joined with the Lord Gordon, who had now a thousand Foot, and two Hundred Horse, and marching strait to the Spey, laboured to find out and engage with the enemy. Nor was he above six miles off when Hurrey thought he had not yet got over Grainsbain: afore with unwearied labour and incredible speed he had overrun the very report of himself. Hurrey lest a battle should be forced upon him whether he would or no, before he had received an addition of numerous Auxiliaries, in all haste passeth over the Spey. And because he had appointed the Rendezvouz of all his friends at innerness, hieth to Elgin; nor did Montrose pursue him lazily to Elgin. Thence with all speed he passeth to Forresse, nor did Montrose make less haste to follow and overtake him too at Forresse, and sat so close on his skirts for fourteen miles together, that notwithstanding he had the advantage of the night, he had much ado to reach innerness.  
The next day Montrose encamped at a village called Alderne: and Hurry according to his hopes found the Earls of Seaforth and Suherland, the whole sept of the fraser's, and most of Murray and Cathnesse, and the neighbouring parts, to have assembled themselves to innerness well appointed. To these Hurry adds some old soldiers of the Garrison of that Town, and so draws up against Montrose. He now commanded three thousand and five hundred Foot, & four hundred Horse; but Montrose (who had no more but fifteen hundred Foot and two hundred Horse) had a great mind to retire. But not only Hurry pressed so vehemently upon him, that it was scarce possible for him to retreat, But Baily also with a Southern Army much stronger than Hurrey's (especially in Horse) was now got already a great way on that side Gransbaine, and marched in great haste towards the Spey. What should Montrose do in this condition? He must of necessity either give Hurrey battle, or undergo a far greater hazard of being hemmed in between two Armies. Therefore he resolves to try the fortune of War without delay, to commit the success unto God, and choosing the best advantage of ground he could find, there to expect the assault of the enemy. There was a little Town that stood upon the height which shadowed the neighbouring valley; and some little hills that were higher than the Town behind it, that hindered the discovery of any one till they were just upon him. In this valley he draws up his Forces out of the view of the enemy. Before the Town he places a few but expert and choice Foot with his Ordnance, who were sheltered with such ditches as they found there. The right wing he commits to Alexander Mac-donald with four hundred Foot, and lodged them in places fortified to their hand with banks and ditches, with shrubs also and great stones: and commands him to preserve himself entire that he might be a reserve upon all occasions, and not to departed from his station which had so good a natural fence, that they might lie there safe enough not only from the enemy's Horse but Foot also. And with the same good advice he committed to his charge that notable Standard of the Kings, which only he was wont to carry before him; expecting that the enemy upon the sight of that would order the best of their Forces against that wing, which by reason of the disadvantage of the place would be rendered wholly unuseful unto them, till such time as he on the flank should take his best advantage against them. And to that end drawing the rest of his Forces to the other side, he commends the Horse to the Lord Gordon, and takes charge of the Foot himself. Those few that stood before the Town under the shelter and convert of the banks and ditches seemed as if they were his main battle, whereas indeed he had none. And for Reserves in that scarcity of men they were not to be thought of.  
The enemy (as Montrose most wisely foresaw) assoon as they saw the King's Standard, ordered the most part of their Horse and old Soldiers (wherein their chief strength consisted) against that. And by this time the Van of the enemy began to dispute it with those before the Town, and on the right flank, and still as their Soldiers were spent, drew up fresh men; which Montrose because his number was but few could not so easily do: therefore he resolved with all his men that he had on the left flank to make a violent assault upon the enemy at once. And whiles he was thinking so to do, there comes unto him one whom he knew to be trusty and discreet, and whispers him in the ear, that Mac-donald with his men on the right flank were put to flight. He being a man of a quick spirit, thought it was best to forestall the Soldiers, lest their hearts should fail them upon bad news, and cries aloud to the Lord Gordon, My Lord, what do we do? Mac-donald upon the right hand having routed and discomfited the enemy is upon the execution; shall we stand by as idle spectators, whiles he carries away the honour of the day? And with that he commands them to charge. Hurrey's Horse had no mind long to endure the shock of the gordon's, but wheeling about and beginning to run, left their flanks (which they were to maintain) open to their enemies. Their Foot, although thus deserted by their Horse, being both more in number and better armed than Montrose's men, stood out very stoutly as long as his men kept aloof; but assoon as he came to fall upon them hand to hand, he drove them to throw away their arms, and to seek though, to little purpose, to save themselves by their heels. But Montrose himself, not forgetting what was signified unto him by so faithful a messenger, drew off with a few of his readiest men unto the right flank, where he found things in a far other condition than they were left.  
For Mac-donald being a valiant man, but better at his hands then head, (being overhasty in battle, and bold even to rashness) disdaining to shelter himself behind hedges and shrubs whiles the enemy vapoured and provoked him with ill language, contrary to orders, upon his own head advanceth towards the enemy, out of that most defensible fastness and station wherein he was placed. And he did it to his cost, for the enemy overpowering him both in Horse and Foot, and having many old soldiers amongst them, routed and repulsed his men. And certainly if he had not timely drawn them off into a close hard by, they had every one of them together with the King's Standard been lost. But he made a mends for that rash mistake, in his admirable courage in bringing off his men, for he was the last man that came off, and covering his body with a great target which he carried in his left hand, defended himself against the thickest of his enemies. Those that came closest up unto him were Pike-men, who with many a blow had struck their spear-heads into his target, which he cut off by three or four at once with his sword, which he managed with his right hand. And those that made him any opposition in the close, seeing Montrose come in to his aid, and their own men on the other side put to flight, such as were Horse spurred away, and the Foot (most of which were old Soldiers out of Ireland) fight desperately, were almost all of them slain upon the ground. The Conquerors pursued them that fled for some miles; so that there were slain about three thousand Foot of the enemy, amongst whom their old soldiers fought most stoutly; but almost all their Horse escaped by a more timely than honourable flight.  
Nor had Hurry himself with some of their best men which went last off the field escaped the hands of the pursuers, had not the Earl of Aboine, by I know not what want of heed, displayed some Ensigns and Standards that had been taken from the enemy; and himself not following the chase but turning towards his own party, seemed to have been the enemy, and to threaten a new battle. With which mistake they were so long deluded, until the enemy's Horse, though much disordered, had shifted themselves away into such by-paths as they knew or could light upon: only a few of them came with Hurry before next morning to innerness. Of such of the enemy as were slain, the most notable were Cambell Laver a Colonel of old Soldiers, Sir john and Sir Gideon Murray Knights, and other stout men, and perhaps not unworthy to be lamented, had they not stained their otherwise commendable valour with the horrid crime of Rebellion; nor in that did they so much follow their own judgements as the humour of the times, or the ambition, or a varice of their Chiefs. Montrose of those that served with him on the left flank miss only one man, and him a private Soldier; and on that side where Mac-donald commanded, there were missing fourteen private Soldiers also. But he had many more wounded, the curing and securing of whom was especially provided for by Montrose. Afterwards entertaining the prisoners with sweetness and courtesy, he promised all such as repent of their error, liberty or employment, and was as good as his word, and such as were obstinate in their rebellion he disposed of into several prisons. In this battle at Alderne the valour of young Napier did very much discover itself; who being the Son of the Lord Napier of Marchiston, and Montrose's nephew by his sister, had but a little before, without the knowledge of his Father, or Wife, stolen away from Edinburgh to his Uncle, and did at this time give an excellent assay of his valour, and laid down most firm principles of a most noble disposition. Whereupon the chief of the Covenanters took his Father, a man almost threescore and ten years old (and as good a man as ever Scotland bred in this age,) and his wife, the daughter of the Earl of Marre, Sir Sterling Keer his brother-in-law (an excellent man also, chief of his family, and one that had suffered very much for his Loyalty) together with his two sisters, the one Sir Starlings most virtuous Lady, the other a virgin, and cast them all into the dungeon; from whence afterward they were to be delivered by Napier himself with the assistance of his Uncle.  
This battle was fought at Alderne on the 4. of May, 1645.   

CHAP. XI.  
MOntrose allowing a few days of refreshment to his Soldiers, marched to Elgin, which is the chief Town of the Province; where for the sake of those that were wounded, he made some longer stay, because they had there the accommodation of good Surgeons and medicines, which are some times scarce to be had in the field. Afterward passing over the Spey he came to Keith, from thence to Frendrackt, and so to Strathbogy. Here Baily meets him (unto whom Hurry with those that remained of his broken Troops at Alderne was joined) and provokes him to battle. Montrose kept back his men, who were spent with great travail, and were far fewer both in Horse and Foot, though very eager to fight, till such time as he had raised new forces, and recruited them. Therefore thinking it enough to maintain the ground which he had chosen, as commodiously as he could for himself until night, passeth to Balveny, whither also the enemy followeth him: but he passing by Strath-Done, and Sprath-Spey, went up to Badenoth. The enemy getting to the other side of the water provokes him again to fight; but in vain, for he was very wary of giving them a set battle, but nevertheless by frequent skirmishes, and especially beating up quarters in the night, did so much weaken their power and courage, that they that were so haughtily daring but a while ago, as well Commanders as Soldiers, hastily and disorderly betook themselves by night to innerness when none pursued them. Montrose was not much displeased that he was so rid of his enemy, especially for this reason; the Earl of Lindsey, the prime ringleader of the Covenanters next unto Argyle, and his rival too (as being brother-in-law to Duke Hamilton) used to give out, that Argyle wanted either care or courage; and howsoever it came to pass, was still unfortunate. And therefore he took upon himself the command of that Army which was newly raised, as if he would assay to manage the business with better conduct. And now he had passed over with his forces into Angus, intending to be a Reserve unto Baily; and if any thing should happen otherwise than well, at the worst he was ready to hinder Montrose's passage over Forth. For they were always very jealous lest Montrose should remove the sent of War to this side the Forth, and nearer Edinburgh. Therefore he resolved with all speed to quell Lindsey (who lay yet in Angus at a Castle called Newtill) both because the General was no soldier, and the soldiers raw, and unacquainted with the hardship of Warr.  
In pursuit of which design, departing from Badenoth, he marcheth through the plains of Marre over Gransbain, and came by long and painful journeys unto the coast of the river of Airley, intending to surprise the enemy on a sudden: which was easy to be done, for he had made such haste, that the news of his approach was not so swift as himself. And now Lindsey was not above seven miles from him, and all things were ready for an assault, when (upon what occasion it is uncertain) almost all the Northern men privately ran away from their colours, and going back the way that they came, return into their Country. The Lord Gordon was in the Camp, and there was none there that detested that villainy with greater indignation than he, in so much that Montrose had much ado to withhold him from putting such of the fugitives to death as had any dependence upon him. Some stick not to say, that these men were inveigled away by the private directions of his father the marquis of Huntley to the Earl of Aboine, who by reason of his sickness was absent. For it vexed Huntley, a haughty and envious man, to hear of the success of Montrose; nor could he endure that inward friendship which was between his eldest son and him. However it was, Montrose being cast down with this unexpected misfortune, was forced to put off that Expedition against Lindsey, and to suffer patiently so great and easy a victory to be taken out of his hands.  
Therefore taking up new resolutions, he followeth after Colonel Nathaniel Gordon, a valiant man and a trusty, and well-beloved in his Country, whom he had sent before. And by this time Baily and Hurrey had returned from innerness, and quartered in lower Marre by the side of Dee. And Montrose came by the coasts of Eske, and the plains of Marre into the heart of that Country, commonly called Cromarre. And whiles he passed through those plains aforesaid, he dispatched Mac-donald with a party into the furthest part of the Highlands, to conduct such Forces as were there raised, with all speed unto the Army. Afterward he sent away the Lord Gordon himself, to hasten and promote that levy of men which Nathaniel Gordon was listing, by all the power and interests he had in those parts. Which he most diligently performed, and amongst others, brought his Brother the Earl of Aboine back with him. Whilst these things passed in Cromarre, Lindsey joins his Forces with Baily in lower Marre, with whom Montrose finding himself unable to deal, (the most part of his Forces being gone along with the Lord Gordon and Mac-donald) he stepped aside to the ruinated Castle of Kargarf, lest the enemy should overly him on the champain grounds with their multitudes both of Horse and Foot; but when he was close unto the Mountains he feared them not. From hence Aboine falling sick again betook himself to Strathbogy; and upon pretence of a guard, carried along with him a considerable number of Horse, whom his Brother the Lord Gordon had much ado afterward to draw back to their colours. In the mean time Lindsey took a thousand old Soldiers from Baily, and gave him as many raw and new raised men for them; and as if he intended to do some famous exploit, returning through Merne into Angus, with all the pains he took he did only this, he ranged with his Army up and down Athole, and after he had rob and spoiled all the Country, he set it on fire. In this imitating Argyle, who was the first that in this age introduced that cruel and dreadful precedent of destroying houses and corn 〈◊〉 being better at fire than sword, when they came into empty fields and towns unmanned.  
Baily at that time went to Bogy, to besiege the fairest castle that belonged to the marquis of Huntley, and indeed of all the North; and in case he failed to take it in, to waste and fire all the Country of the gordon's . Montrose (although Mac-donald was absent with a great party) thought it necessary to relieve Huntley and his friends, whom he laboured to assure unto himself by all good offices, and hied thither. Where having notice that Baily's soldiers, though not all, yet a great part, were new raised men (for he had parted with so many old soldiers to Lindsey) desired nothing more than without delay to fight him, and marcheth strait towards him. He had not gone above three miles before he discovered the enemy's Scouts: He therefore sent, before some of his readiest men that knew the ways, to view the strength, the rendezvouz, and the order of the enemy. They immediately bring word that the Foot stood on the top of a hill some two miles off; and the Horse had possessed themselves of a narrow and troublesome pass which lay almost in the middle between the two Armies, and were come on this side it. Against them Montrose sent such Horse as he had in a readiness, with some nimble Firelocks, whom they first entertained with light skirmishes afar off, and after retreated behind the pass, which they had strongly manned with Musquetiers. Montrose sends for the Foot, that if it were possible they might dislodge the enemy from thence; but it could not be done, for they were parted by the fall of the night, which both sides passed over, waking and in their arms. The next day Montrose sends a Trumpet to offer a set battle, but Baily answers, he would not receive order to fight from an enemy. He therefore seeing he could not drive the enemy from those passes without manifest loss and danger, that he might draw him out thence in some time, marcheth off to Pitlurge, and from thence to a Castle of the Lord Forbeses called Druminore, where he stayed two days. And at last he understands the enemy had quitted the passes, and was marching toward Strathbogy; so he at break of day sets forth towards a village called Alford. But Baily when he had gotten certain notice that Mac-donald, with a considerable part of those Forces, was absent in the Highlands, he voluntarily pursues Montrose, conceiving him to be stealing away, and about noon began to face him. Montrose determines to wait for the enemy (who as seemed to him came towards him) upon the higher ground: but Baily turning aside some three miles to the left hand, Montrose holds on his intended march to Alford, where he stayed that night, the enemy lying about four miles off.  
The next day after, Montrose commands his men very early in the morning to stand to their arms, and make ready to battle, and placed them on a hill that stands over Alford. And as he with a Troop of Horse was observing the motion and order of the enemy, and viewing the fords of the Done, a river which runs by Alford, it was told him, that the enemy, Horse and Foot, were making unto a ford which lay a mile from Alford, to the intent that they might cut off the Rear of their flying enemy; for so those excellent Diviners prophesied to their own destruction. Montrose leaving that Troop of Horse not fare from the Ford, together with some select and understanding men, who should give him perfect intelligence of all things, he returneth alone to order the battle. And above all things he possesses himself of Alford hill, where he might receive the charge of the enemy if they fell on desperately. Behind him was a moorish place full of ditches and pits, which would prevent Horse falling upon his Rear: befote him was a steep hill, which kept his men from the enemy's view, so that they could hardly perceive the foremost ranks. He had scarce given order for the right managing of all things, when those Horse, whom he had left at the Ford, returned with a full career, and bring word that the enemy had passed the River. And now it was no more safe for either of them to retreat without the apparent ruin of their party. It is reported, that Bailie like a skilful and wary Commander, was sore against his will drawn unto this battle; nor had engaged, had he not been necessitated unto it by the rashness of the Lord Balcarise, a Colonel of Horse; who precipitated himself and the Horse under his command into that danger, whether Baily would or no, as that he could not be brought off without the hazard of the whole Army.  
Montrose gave the command of his right wing (on which side the enemy's Horse were most strong) unto the Lord Gordon; and appointed Nathaniel Gordon, an old Commander to his assistance. The command of the left wing was given to the Earl of Aboine, to whom also was joined Sir William Rollock: And of the main battle to two valiant men, Glengar, and Drumond of Ball the younger, unto whom he added George Graham Master of the Camp, an expert Soldier also. The Reserve, which was altogether hid behind the hill, was commanded by his Nephew Napier. And for a while, Montrose kept himself upon the height, and the enemy in the valley being fortified with pits and ditches; for it was neither safe for the latter to charge up the hill, nor for the former to fall upon them that were surrounded with marshes and pools. The numbers of the Foot were in a manner even, either side had about two thousand: but Baily was much stronger in Horse, for he had six hundred, and Montrose but two hundred and fifty. Only Montrose had this advantage, that the enemy were for the most part hirelings raised from dunghills, but those that served the King, gentlemans, who fought for a good Cause and Honour, gratis, and not for gain; and such as esteemed it more becoming to die than to be overcome. Besides, Montrose knew that the greatest part of the old Soldiers were gone with Lindsey, and the new ones would be so frighted with the shouts of the Armies, and the noise of Trumpets, that they would scarce stand the first charge. Therefore in confidence of so just a cause, and so valiant assertors of it, he first drew down his men, and immediately the Lord Gordon giving a smart charge upon them, was courageously received by the enemy, who trusted to the multitude of their Horse: and now being closed, and come to handy-blows, no one could advance a foot but over his vanquished enemy; nor retreat by reason of the pressing on of those in the Rear. The first that made way for themselves and their men by a great slaughter of their enemies were the two gordon's, the Lord, and the Colonel; and Colonel Nathaniel called out unto those expert Firelocks who now lined the Horse as they were wont, Come on, my fellow soldiers, throw down your now useless guns, draw your swords, and sheathe them in the Rebel's Horse, or hamstring them. They instantly took the word of command, and at the same time Montrose draws up Napier with his Reserve, which lay out of sight on the other side of the hill; at whose sudden and unexpected coming, the enemy affrighted betook himself to his heels. Aboine with the left wing kept off, nor did he attempt the enemy but by light skirmishes in small parties: who when they saw their own men on their left wing routed and put to flight, made their retreat with little loss. There Foot being deserted by their Horse, after they had desperately stood out a while, and refused quarter, were almost all cut off. The fall of the Lord Gordon was no little advantage to the escape of their Horse, who after the battle was won, rushing fiercely into the thickest of them, received a shot thorough his body by the conquered and flying enemy, and fell down dead. Whom also Aboine did not hotly pursue, being much troubled with the loss of his brother.  
In this battle, Montrose did not lose so much as one common Soldier, and of Gentlemen, one Culchol, and one Melton; whose names and families I should most willingly have inserted, had I been so happy as to have knowledge of them, because they died gallantly in the bed of Honour; fight for their King, their Liberty, and the Laws. Nor are some Pedees', as well Scotch as Irish, to be forgotten, boys scarce fourteen years of age apiece, who throwing down their Master's luggage, and mounting upon their Nags and Sumpter-horses, did not only make a fair appearance of a body of Horse, but (as if they had been Corrivals in valour with their Masters) beyond what might be expected from their years and strength, fell in among the thickest of their enemies. Of whom some, but very few, were slain; nor did they sell their lives for nothing; and by that they gave an ample testimony of their towardness, and of so manly a spirit in children as might prescribe to riper years. But the loss of the Lord Gordon had so deep an impression upon all men's affections, that they had the face rather of a defeated than victorious Army. The first scene of their sorrow was acted in a dull silence; in the next, the floodgates were broke open, and the Army was full of sighs, and sobs, and wailing, and lamentation; and then with bedewed cheeks, as soon as their grief could get a tongue, they blamed Heaven, and Earth, and Fortune, and every thing, for depriving the King, the Kingdom, the Age, themselves, and their posterity of such a man. Thus forgetting their victory, and the spoil, they fixed their eyes upon the lifeless body, kissed his face, and hands, commended the singular beauty of the Corpse, compared the Nobility of his descent, and the plentifulness of his fortune, with the hopefulness of his parts; and counted that an unfortunate victory that had stood them in so much. And truly, it was like to have happened, that their excessive sorrow for the loss of this noble Gentleman had conquered the Conquerors, had they not comforted themselves with the presence and safety of Montrose. Nor could he himself refrain himself from bewailing with salt tears the sad and bitter fate of his most dear and only friend, but lamented much that the honour of his Nation, the ornament of the Scotish Nobility, the ablest assertor of the Royal Authority in the North, and so intimate a friend unto himself, should be thus cut off in the flower of his age. In the mean time, hoping that reason and time between them would assuage that grief, he commands Physicians to embalm his noble Corpse, which afterwards being removed to Aberdeen, he saw brought forth with a sumptuous and Soldierlike F●●eral, and interred in the Monument of his Ancestors in the Cathedral Church. This battle was fought at Alford on the 2. of July, 1645.   

CHAP. XII.  
MOntrose that same afternoon that he had got this victory at Alford, marching to Clunie Castle, allowed only two or three hours to his Soldiers for their refreshment. And going from thence to the bank of the river Dee, sent away the Earl of Aboine, who succeeded his deceased Brother, into Buchanshire, and the places adjacent for recruits; for many of them who were at the fight being Highlanders, and not fare from their own habitations, had dropped home with their pillage. And because Mac-donald was not yet returned, he kept his quarters at Cragston, expecting both him and Aboine. But when he perceived those Auxiliaries were dispatched unto him with less speed than he hoped, and finding his expectation deluded, impatient of so long and disadvantageous delay; after he had got over the Dee and Gransbaine, fell down into Merne, and lay at Fordón Chapel, once famous for the See and Sepulchre of St. Palladius. Thence he sends to the Earl of Aboine (who was now come to Aberdeen) to hasten unto him into Merne with such Forces as he heard he had raised, Alboine came indeed, but brought no great store of Forces along with him; therefore he sends him back into the North to raise as many men as he could possibly, and bring them with all speed unto the Camp. He himself going through Angus met his Cousin Patrick Graham with his Atholemen ready to live and die under his command, and Mac-donald with a great power of Highlanders: with him was Macklen the chief of his sept, a valiant man, and singularly loyal, who brought some seven hundred choice Foot of his Friends and Clients. Also the chief of the Mac-renolds a great man in the Highlands, and one that entirely loved the King, who had above five hundred men at his heels. The Mac-gregors also, and the Macknab●, men inferior to none in valour and hardness, after the fashion of the Country followed their Commanders and Chiefs of their Families, whose certain number I cannot easily assign. And Glengar, a man never sufficiently to be commended for his valour, and loyalty to the King, and serviceableness and affection to Montrose, (seeing he in person almost from the Expedition into Argyle had never departed from him) by his Uncles & others whom he employed brought in about five hundred more. Besides out of the plains of Marre came a great number of the Fercharsons, gallant men, and of approved valour. And some too out of Badenoth, not many indeed, but stout and able men of their hands.  
Montrose being reinforced with such an Army, resolves to make way into the heart of the Kingdom; as well to spoil the enemies levying of men in Fifeshire, and the Country on this side the Forth, as also to break up the Parliament which the Covenanters had not without solemnity and ostentation summoned at Saint Johns-town. Nor did any thing hinder him but want of Horse, of which always he had such scarcity, that it was never o● very seldom safe for him to fall down into the plain Country. But because he daily expected Aboine and Airley to come unto him with a considerable party of Horse, he passed over the Tay at Dunkel, and lying near Amunde, struck no small terror into the enemy who held Saint Johns-town; and from thence approaching nearer unto them, he encamped in Methfyn Forest.  
The enemy's Foot (all but the Garrison Soldiers in the Town) lay on the South of the River Erne. The Horse which were designed for the guard of the Town and Parliament, as soon as they discovered Montrose's Scouts, bring in a hot alarm that he was there, and come already close to the gates, and no question but he meant presently to scale the walls, and make an assault upon the Town: therefore they were earnest with the Nobility and the whole Parliament to secure themselves by a speedy flight: when all this while Montrose had scarce a hundred Horse, and they were four hundred. But he the next day the more to increase thei● terror, drew near unto the Town with those Horse he had, and about the same number of ready Firelocks whom he mounted upon packhorses; and set out his men in their view so much to his advantage, that they appeared a considerable body of Horse. And because the enemy kept themselves within the gates, forthwith turning towards Duplin, he diligently viewed this side of the River Erne and all that coast, as if he had Horse enough to keep all that Country in subjection. And truly thus much he got by it, that the enemy took him to be exceeding strong as well in Horse as Foot. Therefore they draw together as many Forces from all sides as they could make, whom they intended to fight with Montrose if he should offer to pass over the Forth. But he finding it not safe for himself neither to descend into the Champain Country, they both kept their stations for many days, the enemy expecting Auxiliaries out of Fife, and the Country on this side of the Forth, and out of the West; and Montrose looking for the like out of the North; And waiting impatiently for Aboine, who was too slow with his men, he sent some to hasten him, lest they should lose the opportunity of doing their business. He also complained, but in a soft and gentle manner, as before a faithful friend, that Aboine's lingering and delay was in the fault, that a brave victory, by which he conceived the Rebels might have been utterly subdued had slipped out of his hands; which misfortune no man doubted but his speed and diligence might have prevented.  
The enemy when they understood that he only cheated them with a false Muster of Horse, having gotten aid from all parts, and by this time over-numbring him even in Foot, laboured not only to provoke, but even compel him tofight. Whereupon he concluded to step aside a little into the neighbouring Mountains, whither he knew either the enemy would not advance, or if they did, it would be to their loss. Therefore the enemy drawing near with all their Army to Methfyn, he gives a private command for the Carriages to drive fast up the hills, whiles he, as if he intended to fight, order the battle, makes good the passes with strong guards, and draws up the Horse into the Front. Nor did the enemy expect any other than to try it out by battle, which he made as if he would give, till such time as the Carriages were got so far before, that he conceived them out of danger: and then he commands the Army in one body at their close order to march away apace: He gave charge unto such Horse as he had, and his ablest Firelocks to bring up the Rear, and to secure them from the enemy's Horse. The enemy providing for a present charge, as they expected, when they saw Montrose retreating, first pursued eagerly, though to no purpose; for he making good all passes as he went, easily repulsed them, and without loss of so much as one private Soldier, came cheerfully off into the heights and steep places that were unaccessible unto the enemy's Horse, and for their Foot they feared no assault from them. It is remarkable, that when Montrose's Horse were come up into the passes, and the enemy knew very well they were not able to pursue any further; lest with all that pains they should seem to have done nothing at all, they sent out three hundred of their ablest and readiest Horse to follow after them with a great shout and base language; whom when Montrose saw, he called for only twenty active bodied men of the Highlanders that were used to hunting, and very good marks-men, and commanded them to check their insolence; and they first of all creeping hither and thither, and hiding their Guns, took their aims so well, that they knocked down some of the forwardest of those men; who being men of the better sort, by their example made the rest more wary, so that they were all contented to retreat. But those good huntsmen being encouraged with their good success, as soon as they saw their enemies disordered, came into the open plain, and resolutely charged their Horse: who, in as much fear as Bucks or Does chased by the Hunters, set spurs to their Horses and fled back to their main body as if the Devil were in them.  
The enemy upon their retreat chose that place for their Rendezvouz from whence Montrose departed Methfyns' Forest: after they had done nothing worthy to be remembered in all that expedition, but that when they found themselves unable to cope with men, they exercised their cruelry upon women: for all the wives of the Irish and Highlanders that they light of (who followed the Camp for the love of their Husbans) most basely and shamelessly they hewed in pieces. Montrose kept his quarters at little Dunkel, both because the place was cumbersome and unpassable for Horse, and lay very conveniently for receiving such aids as he daily expected with Aboine out of the North. All which time the two splenative Armies lying close together, rather stood upon their guards than offered any affront one to the other.  
And now at length Aboine and Colonel Nathaniel Gordon brought up their men out of the North to Dunkel; men for their number indeed fewer than was expected, but for their stournesse and true valour fare above their number. The Horse they brought were only two hundred, and some sixscore Firelocks whom they had mounted and made Dragoons: other Foot they brought none. Along with them came  Earl of Airley and Sir David his Son with fourscore Horse, most of them of the noble family of the Ogilbies; amongst whom Alexander Son and heir of Sir John Ogilby of Innarwharatie was most eminent, not only for the rare accomplishments of his person, and the splendour of his Ancestors, but for the honour of his valiant and happy achievements, much above what his age could promise. Montrose being thus well recruited, thought it not good to lose anytime, but marched strait towards the enemy. But as soon as he came to Amonde, he thought it best to see in what condition the enemy was, and to find out whether that was true which he had received a flying report of; that was, that very many of their Auxiliaries had deserted their colours and run home. Therefore leaving his Foot to take their rest, a little before night he faced the enemy with his Horse; with which sight being something affrighted, they kept within their trenches. And next morning early Montrose riding about to discover, was informed that they had stolen away at the dead of the night to Methfyn, and in disorder had got over a Bridge upon the Erne. He instantly causes his men to march, and passing the river at a stone-bridge about six miles off, lay that night in Strath-Erne.   

CHAP. XIII.  
FIfe is the most populous, the most rich, the thickest Country Towns and Villages in all Scotland. Its Inhabitants are little martial, consisting most of Merchants, Shopkeepers, Mariners, and Husbandmen: But so new-fangled in their Religion, and so bewitched both by the example and authority of the Nobility, and by the Sermons of their seditious Ministers, that all of them upon the matter were extremely addicted to the Covenanters. The Country itself is almost an Island, being environed towards the South with the Scotish Fyrth, on the North with the Tay, which carrieth ships of great burden all along; on the East with the main Sea. No entrance thither by land but on the West, in the straits of which both Armies lay. The whole Country was in a distraction, some (especially their much admired Preachers) that thundered nothing but Excommunications, inciting and compelling all of every estate and age to take up arms; others flocking in great numbers unto them, others running hither and thither to hid themselves, as every one was led by his own superstition, confidence, or fear. Montrose was very desirous to assault the enemy, and try the fortune of a b●ttel with them before they increased their Forces with addition of the Fifemen; but it would not be. For they had so fortified themselves by the advantage of the ground, and the narrowness of the passages, that he could by no means either make his way unto them, or draw them out into plainer ground. Having therefore made them several fruitless offers of battle, he resolved to march into the heart of the Country, and came to Kinrosse, as well to hinder the rising of that Country, as to train the enemy at last out of their fastness to come in unto the aid of their distressed friends. They not so much as daring to fall upon his Rear, turned another way, and keeping close to the bank, first of the Erne, afterwards of the Tay, made speed towards the East-side of the Country. As Montrose passed along, he sent Colonel Nathaniel Gordon, and Sir William Rollock before him with a small party. These sending the rest of their party up and down to scout, kept only ten men in their company; on a sudden they happened upon two hundred of the enemy, who were raising men in those parts, and being not able to retreat, they twelve encountered the two hundred, put them to flight, killed some, and took other some prisoners.  
Montrose that night came to Kinrosse, not doubtting but they of Fife, who were exceedingly out of love with the King, most firm to the Covenanters, and wholly given to the new superstition, were generally up in arms. Therefore thinking it not safe rashly to engage with so great a multitude of Horse and Foot, he determined to pass over the Forth; and that upon this ground, that he having wearied out the Fifemen (whom he believed would not be easily persuaded to follow the Army further than their own borders) with long marches, might vanquish them without a blow. For he accounted that most of them being born or brought up in shops, or ships, or taverns, and not acquainted with the hardship of Soldiers, would presently give out and be weary. Besides, such of the Nobility as were in rebellion (after they saw with sorrow that the seat of the War was drawn so near them as the Forth) were raising men with more eagerness than ever before upon the Borders, and in the West; of whom the chief were the Earls of Lanerick, Cassils', and Eglington. Whose levies Montrose laboured either to hinder, or draw themselves to his side before they came up to Bailie and the Fifemen; therefore he marched from Kinrosse towards Sterling, and lay that night some three miles from the City. The next day sending the Foot before, he followed softly after with the Horse, because he suspected that the enemy pursued him in the Rear.  
Nor was he deceived in that suspicion, for some Espyals whom he left behind him, brought word that Baily was hard by with the greatest Army that ever he had. And immediately the enemy's Scouts came within view, one of whom, having been too forward, was brought prisoner to Montrose by some of his Horse. He being examined, told them free and confidently, that he believed Baily and his party were resolved to march all that night to engage him to fight as soon as was possible, before they dismissed the Fifemen, who being already tired, he hardly believed would be drawn over the Forth; accounting their, work at an end as soon as the enemy was gone out of their own Country. Therefore Montrose, that he might get speedily over the Forth, bids his men march apace, and going on the other side of Sterling (a good Town, and one of the King's strongest Castles, in which the enemy had now a great Garrison) that same night passed over the river at a Ford about four miles above the Town. And at break of day next morning made a halt a while about six miles from Sterling: where he had intelligence, that the enemy the night before had not come over the Forth, but quartered three miles from Sterling on the other side of the river. Therefore Montrose holding on his intended journey, encamped himself in that fatal place, the Field of Kilsythe. He bids the Soldiers to refresh themselves, but however to be in a readiness either to fight or march, as occasion should serve. The enemy the mean while by an easier and shorter cut got over the Forth at Sterling-bridge, and encamped at night some three miles from Kilsythe.  
In the interim, the Earl of Lanerick Duke Hamilton's brother had raised a thousand Foot and five hundred Horse of the friends and clients of the hamilton's, in Cluidsdale and the places adjacent, and was not at present above twelve miles from Kilsythe. And the Earls of Cassils', Eglington, and Glencarne, with others of the Covenanting Nobility, were engaging the West unto the same impious Militia; who were so much the readier to take up arms, by how much they had less felt the miseries of War. Which things being well considered, Montrose thought it best to fight with those Forces which Baily had at present. For although they were more numerous than his own, yet the danger was like to be greater of his side, if he should be put to engage with them when Lanericks and other parties were come up. But moreover he was either obliged to take this course, or do nothing, and return back into the Highlands with the blemish of that Honour which by so many victories he had achieved. The enemy on the other side being arrogant, and confiding in the multitude of their men, believed that Montrose had but made a running march the days before, and had passed the Forth more out of fear than design, so that they counted it nothing to assault him in that ground and entrenchment which he had chosen to his best advantage. And above all, their proud hopes were most careful of this, to block up all ways of his escape, and to prevent his return into the Mountains. But there are some that say, Baily himself thought it not best to give him battle, but was overswayed by the authority and votes of the Earl of Lindsey especially, and some other of the Nobility that were present in the Army, which forced him much against stomach to draw up his men, and order the battle as be could. However it was, early in the morning they led their men strait upon Montrose: which when he saw, he told the standers by, that that was happened which he most desired, for now he could supply his want of men by the advantage of the ground; and therefore he made haste to possess himself of the fastnesses before them. Moreover he commands all his men, as well Horse as Foot, to throw off their doublets, and to affront the enemy all in white, being naked unto the waste all but their shirts: which when they had cheerfully performed, they stood there provided and ready to fight, resolved certainly either to conquer or die.  
In the field where they intended to fight there were some Cottages and Country-gardens, where Montrose had conveniently lodged some few men; and the first design of the enemy was to dislodge them. But it took not; for making a fierce assault, and being as stoutly received, as soon as they were observed to cool something of their first heat, those that manned the places beat them off, drove them away, and slew them without resistance. The Highlanders being animated with this happy success, those that were next those places, not expecting the word of Command, ran rashly up the hill, which lay open to the whole strength of the enemy. Montrose, although he was something troubled at the unseasonable boldness of his men, yet thought it not good to leave them engaged, nor was it easy to say, whether the quickness of his relief, or the cowardliness of the enemy, conduced more to their safety. Montrose had in all four thousand four hundred Foot, and five hundred Horse; a thousand of his Foot or more had now by their own fault so engaged themselves with the enemy, that they could not come off, for the enemy encountered them with six thousand Foot, and eight hundred Horse. But the enemy's Rear came up but slowly, and while the Van made a stand, expecting their advance, Montrose had opportunity to bring timely aid to his engaged men. But at last they send out three troops of Horse, and after them two thousand Foot, against those rash and almost lost men of Montrose. Which when Montrose saw (after others had too dishonourably shifted off that service) he thus bespeaks the Earl of Airley, You see (my noble Loid) how yonder men of ours by their unadvisedness have brought themselves into a most desperate hazard, and will presently be trampled to dirt by the enemy's Horse, except we relieve them with all speed. Now all men's eyes and hearts are fixed upon your Lordship, they think you only worthy so great an honour, as to repel the enemy, and bring off our fellow Soldiers. Besides, it seems most proper for you, that the error which hath been committed by the fool hardiness of youth, may be corrected by your Lordship's grave and discreet valour. And he undertook the service (as dangerous as it was) with all his heart, and being guarded with a troop of Horse, (in which road John Ogilby of Baldeby, who had formerly been a Colonel in Swethland, a stout man, and a skilful soldier) led them on strait upon the enemy. And they giving the charge upon the Ogilbies, disputed it sharply with them for a while, but at last being no longer able to withstand their courage, faced about: whom the Ogilbies pursued so hotly, that they made them fall foul upon their own Foot; and (charging them furiously thorough and thorough) routed them, and trod them under foot. By this gallant example of Airley and the Ogilbies, Montrose's Soldiers, being enraged more and more, could no longer be kept back from raising a great shout (as if they had already got the day) and falling on upon the enemy. Nor would the Rebels Horse long abide their charge, but deserting their Foot, fell a running as ●ast as ever they could: Nor did their Foot after they were so deserted stand it out long, but throwing down their arms sought to save their lives by flight. Which proved unserviceable, for the victorious pursuers had the kill of them for fourteen miles: So that of all the enemy's Foot that were present at that battle, it is thought there did not an hundred come off. Nor did their Horse escape very well, of whom some were killed, some taken, the rest dispersed. Their Ordnance, their Arms, their Spoils, came clearly to the Conquerors, who lost only six of their side; whereof three were Ogilbies, valiant Gentlemen, who fight like themselves, sealed the victory with their own blood. The rebellious sort of the Nobility (of whom many were in the fight) some of them by their timous running, and swiftness of their Horses, got to the Town and strong Castle of Sterling; others escaping to the Scotish Fyrth shipped themselves in some vessels that lay at anchor near the shore, amongst whom Argyle (having now this third time been fortunate to a boat) escaped into a ship; and thought himself scarce safe enough so, till weighing anchor he got into the main. Or prisoners, the chief were, Sir William Murray of Blebo, James Arnot brother to the Lord Burghley, one Colonel Diee, and Colonel Wallace, besides many more, whom Montrose after quarter given used courteously, and upon the engagement of their Honours set at liberry. And this is that famous victory of Kilsythe, obtained on the 15 day of September 1645. in which it is believed no fewer than six thousand Rebels were slain.   

CHAP. XIV.  
THere was a great alteration all the Kingdom over after this battle at Kilsythe; those of the Rebell-Nobility were all of them sore affrighted, some of them fled to Baywick, some to Carlisle, some to Newcastle, others into Ireland. And such as before only privately wished well unto the King, now did no longer fear to show themselves to express their loyalty, to pray openly for his prosperity, and to offer their service. But those that before had sided with the Covenanters began to ask forgiveness, to plead they were constrained to take up Arms by the violence and tyranny of the Rebels, to submit their persons and estates to the Conqueror, humbly to beseech his protection, and to implore his wont clemency. And Cities and Countries that were furthest off begins to dispatch their Commissioners to profess in their names their Allegiance to their King, their duty and service to his Vicegerent, and freely to offer him Men, Arms, Provision, and other necessaries of War. The Nobility of the Realm and the Chiefs of Septs came in thick unto the Lord Governor, welcomed him, tendered their service unto him, extolled his high and honourable achievements, and thanked him for them. All whom he pardoned for what was past, received them with liberty and indemnity into his protection, and encouraged them to be of good cheer. Nor did he lay any greater burden upon them, than to change that covetous and cruel slavery which they were manacled with by the Rebels, for the sweet and gentle government and protection of a most gracious Prince; and by laying aside all former grudges and feuds, hereafter more religiously to observe their duty and loyalty to the good King; and thence forward never more to have to do with the counsels of seditious men, who by endeavouring to satisfy their own ●usts, had engaged King, and Subject, one against the other, and upon the matter ruined both. For his part he never had any other intention, than to restore their Religion, their King, their Liberty, his Peers and Countrymen, by Arms (when no other means was left) out of the tyranny of Rebels, unto their ancient peace, happiness, and glory. Which if he should effect, he would give Almighty God the author of all good things, everlasting praise; but if he failed, however he should by these his honest endeavours acquit himself before God, and God's Vicegerent his Majesty, before all good men, and his posterity, his honour and his conscience.  
At this time the whole Kingdom sounded nothing but Montrose's praise. Men of all sorts every where extolling the ingenuity of his disposition in which he outwent all his Equals; the gallantry of his person in War, his patience in travels, his evenness of spirit in dangers, his wisdom in counsels, his faithfulness to such as submitted, his quickness in dispatches, his courtesy to such as he took prisoners, in a word, his truly heroic virtue in all things, and towards all men. And this honour most men gave him in good earnest, and out of a sincere affection, but some in craft and dissimulation; and as every one had wit or skill they set forth his Encomiums or Panegyrics in Verse or Prose. Yea such is the volubility of humane things, and the inconstancy of the whirling multitude, that they were not afraid openly to curse and rail at the ringleaders and prime men of the Covenanters Faction, such as Argyle, Lindsey, Loudon, and others, (whom a while ago they honoured and adored for Saints) as authors of all the mischiefs that had befallen them.  
All things going on thus happily, the Northern parts of the Kingdom being secured on his back, the way being opened unto him into the South, the power of the Rebels every where quashed, their chief leaders (who in conscience of their guilt despaired of mercy) driven out of the Kingdom, and no considerable party remaining in arms; yet in the West their were some stirs. For the Earls of Cassils' and Eglington, and some other promoters of the Covenanters Cause laboured to engage the Countries in a new War, and were said to have raised in a tumultuary way the number of four thousand men. Therefore Montrose the next day after the Battle of Kilsythe, drew his men into Cluidsdale, from whence the Earl of Lanerick, being struck with the news of their late overthrow, disbanding those men that he had raised, was fled. Montrose chose that quarter as lying most commodiously for his affairs in the South and West, and marched to Glascow, which is the principal City of that Country. He received the Town into his protection, and entering into it with the joyful acclamations of the people, first of all he restrained his Soldiers from plunder, and then being severe against the delinquents, for the terror of others, he put some of the chiefest incendiaries of them to death. After that, in favour of the Citizens, the next day after he came, he departed the Town, and quartered at Bothwell. Where because it was but six miles from the City, lest the Citizens should be prejudiced by the insolence of the Soldiers, he gave them leave to stand upon their guard, and defend the City with a Garrison of the inhabitants. Hoping with such acts of clemency to engage not only the men of Glascow unto himself, but the inhabitants of other Cities also, by good offices more than by force and Arms.  
At Bothwell he stayed many days, where he received the personal addresses of some of the Nobility, and of others by their trusties, Friends, and Messengers; and settled the peace of Towns and Countries thereabouts, who all willingly submitted themselves. The chief of the inhabitants of those parts who came to welcome him, and offer their service were, the marquis of Douglasse, a man of most noble family and chief of the Douglasses, the Earl of Lithgow, Anandale, and Hartfield; the Lord Barons of Seton, Drummond, Fleming, Maderty, Carnegy, and Jonston; Hamilton of Orbeston, Charter of Hempsfield, Toures of Innerleith, a most deserving man (who afterwards lost his life gallantly in battle) Stuart of Resyth, Dalyel a brother of the Earl of Carnwarth, Knights: and many more whose names I can either not rightly call to mind, or else think fit to forbear at present, lest by giving them an unseasonable and thankless commendation now whiles they lie under intolerable tyranny, I should do them more harm than honour.  
After the victory of Kilsythe no thoughts had higher place in Montrose's noble breast, than the enlargement of such Prisoners as for no other fault but the sin of Loyalty had been most basely used, and still expected death, in the grievous and filthy Gaol of Edinburgh Therefore he sends his Nephew Napier with Colonel Nathaniel Gordon and a commanded party of Horse to Edinburgh, to summon the City, and receive it upon surrender, to set the Prisoners at liberty, and to settle the Town in peace and loyalty; but in case they stood out and refused to submit, to threaten them with fire and sword. They, as soon as they came within four miles of the Town, made a stand, (and intended to come no nearer, unless they chanced to be forced unto it by the obstinacy of the Citizens,) as well that at that distance they might the more easily restrain the unruliness of the Soldiers, lest they should wrong the poor inhabitants, and in their fury reduce that cursed City, which had been the cause and fomenter of all the Rebellion, into ashes, which Montrose gave them especially in charge by all cleans to prevent; as also to preserve the Army safe from the plague, which was hot in the City and places adjacent, and whereof very many died every day. Assoon as ever the news of their approach was brought unto the Town, they all began to tremble, and despair of their lives; and to raise a cry as if the swords were already at their throats, or their houses in a flame. Not a few of them being pricked in their guilty consciences, freely and openly accused themselves for the most ungrateful, traitorous, sacrilegious and perjured persons in the world, and unworthy of any mercy. Then applying themselves unto the Prisoners they had, both calling unto them a far off, and sending private messengers, they implored their assistance; and besought them in compassion of the poor silly people, who were almost wasted with a great mortality, to pacify the anger of the Conquerors, whom they had most justly incensed: told them, all their hopes lay in them, and they were utterly undone without their help. Protested moreover, that if they found mercy but that one time, they would redeem their former revolt with more religious fidelity, and constant Allegiance ever after. The Prisoners (whom but the other day the basest of the people bitterly abused and reviled, cursing and bequeathing them to the gallows and worse) forgetting all injuries received, and more troubled with the sense than revenge of their sufferings, first rendered hearty thanks to Almighty God, who of his mercy showed unto them that liberty and safety which they little expected; and then turning unto their deadly enemies, bade them be of good cheer, for the most gracious King (and his Lieutenant Montrose) desired the safety and happiness of his repenting Subjects, and not their extirpation and ruin. Therefore they advised them immediately to send some Delegates to Montrose, humbly to beg his pardon; for nothing could better appease the rage of a Conqueror than a speedy submission. For their parts they would not be backward to mediate with him for their safety, and doubted not but his high and noble spirit, which could not be vanquished with their arms, would yet suffer itself to be overcome with the prayers and lamentations of men in misery.  
The Edinburgians being comforted with these hopes, and assisted with this good advice, immediately call a Hall to consult of sending Delegates. There were among the prisoners of those that were most high in birth, and favour with Montrose, Lodowick Earl of Crawford, Chief of the most ancient and noble family of the Lindseys, a man famous for Military service in foreign Nations, amongst the Swedes, Imperialists and Spaniards. This man by the power and cunning of his cousin the Earl of Lindsey (who because he was greedy of the honour and title of the Earl of Crawford, was greedy also of his life) was designed by the Covenanters to be put to death. Nor was it for any other crime but for being a Soldier, and an expert man, and one that had done faithful service for his Master the King, and it was feared he would do so again if he should be suffered to live. There was also James Lord Ogilby, Son to the Earl of Airley, one singularly beloved by Montrose, who was formidable both for his Fathers and his own virtue and authority. He also being an enemy to Argyle, both upon old feuds and some fresher wrongs, was just as deep in sin and danger as Crawford. These therefore the Common Council of Edinburgh chose out of the rest of the prisoners, and immediately setting them at liberty, they earnestly pray and beseech them to assist their Delegates to the uttermost of the power they had with the Lord Governor, and to labour to hold his hands off that miserable City, upon which the hand of God himself lay so heavy already. And they curse themselves and their posterity to the pit of Hell, if they should ever prove unmindful of so great a favour, or unthankful to them that did it. They were not backward to undertake a business which was so universally desired, but taking the Delegates along with them went forth to Napier. He having by the way delivered his dear Father, his Wife, his Brother-in-law Sir Sterling Keer, and his Sisters out of the prison at Limnuch, whither the Covenanters had removed them from Edinburgh Castle, marched back unto his Uncle with his Forces, and those prisoners now at liberty, and the Delegates of the City, as having done his business. Montrose embracing Crawford and Ogilby, his dearest friend, whom he had long longed for, and rejoicing to see them safe and sound, used them with all honour and accommodation after their long restraint, and they on the other side magnified their deliverer and avenger with high praises and thanks, (as became them to do,) on both sides affording a spectacle of great joy to the beholders.  
Afterwards the Delegates of Edinburgh were admitted to audience, and delivered their Message from the Provost and City. The sum was, They would freely surrender the Town unto the Governor, humbly desired his pardon, promised to be more dutiful and loyal for the time to come; committed themselves and all that they had to his patronage and protection, for which they earnestly besought him. Moreover they undertook forthwith to set the rest of the prisoners at liberty, according to his appointment, and to do any thing else that he should enjoin them. And although the City was so wasted with a grievous contagion that no men could be raised of it, yet they were ready as far as their share came, to pay contribution to such as should be raised in other places. And above all things they humbly begged at his hands, that he would labour to mitigate the anger of their most gracious Lord the King, that he might not be too severe with that City, which by the cunning, authority, and example of a seditious and prevailing party had been engaged in Rebellion. Montrose bade them be confident of the rest, and required no more at their hands, than to be hereafter more observant of their loyalty to the King, and faithfully to renounce all correspondence with the Rebels in arms against him, either without or within the Kingdom; To restore the Castle of Edinburgh (which it was evident was in their custody at that time) unto the King and his Officers. Lastly, assoon as the Delegates came home, to set the Prisoners at liberty, and send them to him. And truly as for the Prisoners they sent them away upon their return: but as to other Articles they were perfidious, and perjured; and if they do not repent, must one day give an account unto God the assertor of truth and justice, for their high ingratitude, and reiterated disloyalty.  
Whiles these things passed concerning Edinburgh, Montrose sent away Alexander Mac-donald (to whom he joined john Drummond of Ball, a stout Gentleman) into the Western coasts to allay the tumults there, and to spoil the designs of Cassils' and Eglington. But they receiving the alarm of Macdonalds approach, were immediately dispersed in a great fright. Some of the Earls and other Nobles made strait into Ireland, others played lest in sight, in I know not what lurking places. All the Western Countries, the Towns of Air, Irwin and others strove which should first submit, freely offering their fidelity and service. Neither (which was more than he expected) did Montrose ever find men better affected to the King than in those Western parts: For most of the Gentry, Knights, and Chiefs of Families, and some also of the prime Nobility, came off cheerfully to his side. Whose names, which otherwise ought to have been registered with honour, at the present I shall pass by (if not in an acceptable perhaps, yet certainly in an advantageous silence,) for I should be loath so honest and loyal souls should be questioned by their cruel enemies, for their good affections, upon my information.   

CHAP. XV.  
MOntrose had now taken into his thoughts the settling of the South-borders, and sent unto the Earls of Hume, Rosburough, and Trequair to invite them to associate with him for matter of Peace and War, and all things that were to be done in the name and by the authority of the King. These weet not only the powerfullest men in those parts, by reason of the multitude of their friends, and their great retinue, but also made as though they were most cordial assertors of the King's authority. For besides the bond of Allegiance, which was common to them with others, they were engaged unto him by extraordinary benefits. Not were they only advanced unto great Honours by him, as being raised from the order of Knighthood, to a high pitch of Nobility, but were made Governors of the most gainful Countries, and by that means being enriched above their equals and their own condition, heaped up wealth indeed unto themselves, but envy and hatred upon the King. They again dispatch some of their friends of the best quality, to assure him, That they were ready to undergo any hazard under his conduct and command in the behalf of their most bountiful King, They promise moreover to raise a world of men, and nothing hindered their coming up unto the Camp, if he would but be pleased to draw that way with never so small a party of his forces. And so it would come to pass, that not only their friends and clients, but the whole Country being animated with his presence and authority, would cheerfully take up arms as one man; and if they stood out, they might be compelled, or a course taken with them. Therefore they earnestly besought him to afford them his assistance in this, and in all the rest he should find them his most faithful and ready servants. These were fair words, and at first hearing, seemed to carry an honest meaning along with them; but were promised with that kind of faith that the Creatures and Favourites of the too indulgent King are used to keep. And perhaps upon that score the Earl of Lanerick (Duke Hamiltons' Brother) is more to be commended, whom Montrose having earnestly solicited by friends to come off to the King's side, although that way he might very likely expect his pardon for what was past, and the releasement of his Brother, yet without any dissimulation he gave this peremptory answer, That he would have nothing to do with that side, and that he would never pretend that friendship which he intended not to preserve. And I would to God all they on whom the good King has too much relied, had delivered themselves with the same candour and plain dealing ever since the beginning of these troubles.  
About the same time Montrose sent the marquis of Douglasse and the Lord Ogilby over into Anandale and Niddisdale, that there with the assistance of the Earls of Anandale and Hartfield, they might list as many Soldiers, Horse especially, as they could. And gives them orders withal to march with such as they should so raise, towards Trequaire, Roxborough, and Hume; that they might engage them without any further putoffs in an association with them: For Montrose understood a little what Court-holy-water meant, and therefore was something suspicious of the delays which they framed, the rather, having had some experience of their cunning and slipperynesse, especially of Trequaires. And truly Douglasse by the cheerful endeavours of the Earls of Anandale and Hartfield, had quickly raised a considerable party, if one count them by the head; but they were new men, taken from their blows and flocks, and but raw Soldiers: forward enough at the first charge, but by and by their hearts fail them, and they can by no means be kept to their colours. When Douglasse and the rest of the Commanders considered this, they writ again and again to Montrose, that he would make haste after them with his old Soldiers towards Tweed; for by his presence and authority, and the company and example of the old Soldiers, they might be brought either willingly, or whether they would or no, to know their duties. In the mean time according to his command they go on to Strathgale, freely offering an opportunity, and their service if it needed to Roxborough and Trequair, to draw out their men more easily and timely. But they (good men) who well enough understood the secretest counsels of the Covenanters, and knew that all their Horse would be there immediately out of England under the command of David Lesley, intended nothing more than to overreach the King with their old tricks, and to deliver Montrose (whose glory they envied) into the hands of his enemies, though not by arms (for that they could not) yet by treachery. To that end they insinuate again and again, not only unto Douglasse and his party, but to Montrose himself by their friends and frequent messengers, that for their parts they were ready to expose their persons to the utmost hazard, but they could never be able to draw together their friends, clients, and Trained bands, except they were animated and encouraged with Montrose his presence. And that they might be the better believed, they curse themselves to the pit of Hell if they did not stand stiffly and unalterably to their promise. Montrose notwithstanding was not taken with all this, but stayed still at Bothwell, conceiving, that if there were any truth or honesty in their words, Douglasse and his party who still lay in the Country adjacent, would be sufficient for the rasing and encouraging of their friends and dependants.  
At length when Montrose had quartered a great while at Bothwell, most of the Highlanders being loaden with spoil ran privily away from their colours and returned home. Presently after their very Commanders desired Furloghs for a little while, pretending that the enemy had not an Army in the field within the borders of that Kingdom, and therefore their service for the present might well be spared; besides, they complained that their Houses and Corn, in and with which their parents, wives, children, were to be sustained that winter, were fired by the enemy, and no provision made for them, so that they humbly desired to be excused for a few weeks, in which they might take care to secure their families from hunger and cold. Also they solemnly and voluntarily engaged their words, that they would return many more than they went, and much refreshed, within forty days. These Montrose, seeing he could not hold them, as being Volunteers, and fight without pay, that he might the more engage them, thought fit to dismiss them, not only with Licences but Commissions. And giving public commendations to the Soldiers, and thanks in his Majesty's name to the Commanders, exhorting them to follow their business closely and vigorously, he appoints Alexander Mac-donald, their Countryman and Kinsman (who was but too ambitious of that employment) to be their Companion and Guide, who should bring them back to the Camp by the day appointed. Who in a set speech gave thanks in all their names to the Lord Governor for his so noble favour, and as if he had been their Bail or Surety, with a solemn Oath undertook for their sudden return: yet he never saw Montrose after. Nor was he contented to carry away with him the whole Forces of the Highlanders, (who were more than three thousand stout men) but he privily drew away sixscore of the best Irish, as if (forsooth) he had picked them out for his Lifeguard.  
About this very time many messengers came several ways to Bothwell from the King at Oxford. Amongst whom one was Andrew sandiland's, a Scotchman, but bred in England, and entered into holy Orders there, a very upright man, faithful to the King, and much respected by Montrose, who continued constantly with him unto the end of the War. Another was Sir Robert Spotswood, once the most deserving Precedent of the highest Court in Scotland, and now his Majesty's Secretary for that Kingdom, who passed from Oxford through Wales into Anglesey, and thence getting a passage into Loghaber, came into Athole, and was conducted by the men of Athole unto Montrose. Almost all the Agents that came brought this Instruction amongst the rest, That it was his Majesty's pleasure, that he should join unto himself the Earls of Roxburgh and Trequaire, and confide in their advice and endeavours; of whose fidelity and industry no question was to be made. Moreover, that he should make haste towards the Tweed, where he should meet a party of Horse which the King would instantly dispatch out of England to be commanded by him, with whom he might safely give battle to David Lesley, if (as was suspected) he marched that way with the Covenanters Horse. All this the respective bearers unanimously delivered, and his most excellent Majesty being over-credulous signified by his Expresses. And Montrose being now overborn with the King's absolute Commands, takes up his resolution to march to the side of Tweed. But the day before he went, the Soldiers being drawn up to a Rendezvouz, (before that Mac-donald and the Highlanders were gone) Sir Robert spotswood making an humble obeisance under the King's Standard, delivered his Majesty's Commission under the Great Seal unto Montrose, which he again gave unto Archibald Primrose Clerk of the Supreme Council to be read aloud. That being ended, in a short but stately Oration, he commended the valour and Loyalty of the Soldiers, and the great affection he bore them. And for Mac-donald, he not only extolled his gallantry in the head of the Army, but by virtue of, that authority that he had received from the King, gave him the honour of Knighthood. For not only Montrose but all the King's friends were confident of the integrity of the man; whose good opinion he deceived, not only to the undoing of the King's cause, but the utter ruin of himself and his friend.  
Montrose following his intended journey, came the second night to Calder Castle; at which time the Earl of Aboine (whether the Lord Governor would or no) carried away with him not only his own men, but all the rest of the Northern Forces, whom he had inveighled to desert the service. Nor would he be persuaded either by reason, or the entreaty of his friends (who hearty detested that shameful act) to stay but so much as one week, and then he might departed, not only with the General's licence, but with honour, and the good esteem of honest men. Seeing it would be no better, Montrose passing by Edinburgh, led his small Army through Lothianshire, and in Strathgale joined with Douglasse and the other Commanders, whose Forces being much diminished, were daily mouldering more and more. In that coast Traquaire himself came unto him, more cheerful and merry than he used to be; who pretended himself to be a most faithful Servant, not only to his Majesty, but also to Montrose, and the next day sent him his Son the Lord Linton, with a gallant party of Horse, as if they were to be under his command, that by so likely a pledge he might make Montrose more secure, and so more easily ruin him. For this was not the first time that Traquaire played the Covenanters Scout-Master: that ungratefullest piece of mankind intending to betray unto them Montrose, and in him the King himself.  
Now when he was not above twelve miles from the Lords Hume and Roxburgh, and they sent not so much as a Messenger to him, nor offered him the smallest courtesy, Montrose being much troubled at it, resolved to march into their Territories, and to bring them in either by fair means or foul. But they prevented him by a singular device; They sent unto David Lesley, whom they well knew by that time was come to Berwick with all the Scotch Horse, and many English Volunteers (for they were privy to all their counsels) and entreated him to send a party and carry them away in the condition of prisoners; which he did the day before Montrose came thither. For by this means that crafty old fox Roxburgh (who had Hume under his girdle) conceived that they might both ingratiate themselves with the Covenanters, as freely committing themselves into their Protection, and yet keep in the King's favour, whiles they made as if they fell into Lesley's hands sore against their wills. And this being Lesley's first noble exploit, he passed over Tweed, and marched into the East-side of Lothian. Montrose assoon as he perceived the King and himself betrayed by these men, and saw no hopes of that party of Horse which was come from the King, and that the too powerful enemy would block up his passage into the North and Highlands, resolved to march with those few men he had into Niddisdale and Anandale, and the Country of Air, that he might there raise what Horse he could. For although he had no certain intelligence concerning the strength of the enemy, yet he conjectured that it consisted especially in Horse.   

CHAP. XVI.  
MOntrose arising from Kelsoe marched to Jedburgh, and so to Selkirk; where he quartered his Horse in a Village, and his Foot in a wood close by. For he was resolved to make sure of all advantages of ground, lest he should be forced to fight with an enemy, of whose strength he knew nothing, upon uneven terms. Then he commands the Captains of Horse to set out good store of faithful and active Scouts, and to place Horse-guards in convenient places on every side, and look well to their watch. All which he in person (as he used to do) could not see done at present, because that night he was dispatching letters to the King, and to send away a trusty messenger that he had light upon, before break of day: therefore he was earrest with them to have the more care, lest the enemy, who were very strong in Horse, should surprise them unawares. And the Commanders promising all care and diligence, he was so taken up with writing of Letters, that he slept not all that night. And sending ever and anon to the Captains of Guards (men that were skilful Soldiers, and so known to be in Foreign Countries) such uncertain noises as were brought unto him of the enemy's approach, they being deceived either by the negligence of their Scouts or their own misfortune, very confidently sent him back word there was no enemy in those parts, nor in the Country thereabouts. At the break of day some of the best Horse, and most acquainted with the Country, were sent out again to Scout; they also brought word they had been ten miles about, and diligently examined all byways, and rashly wished damnation to themselves if they could find an enemy in arms within ten miles. But afterward it appeared when it was too late, that the enemy with all their Forces were then scarce four miles from Selkirk, and had lain there all that night in their arms.  
Lesley that day that Montrose departed from Jedburgh, mustered his men upon Gladesmore a plain in Lothianshire; where holding a council of War with the chief of the Covenanters, the result was, that he should march to Edinburgh, and so to the Forth, that he might hinder Montrose's retreat into the North, and force him to fight, whether he would or no, before he joined with his Highlanders. But Lesley, contrary to that resolution, gives order on a sudden to his whole Forces to wheel to the left hand, and to march away apace; every one wondering that knew not the mystery of the business, what should be the meaning of that change of his resolution, and his intention in that sudden expedition, for they marched strait to Strathgale. But the matter was, (as they afterward gathered from the enemies themselves) he had received letters, by which he had perfect notice, that Montrose being attended only with five hundred Foot, and those Irish, and a very weak party of new-raised Horse, might very easily be surprised on the borders of Tweed, if Lesley would make use of that opportunity was offered him to do his business. Therefore Lesley upon this intelligence made haste thither, and (as I said) lodged within four miles of Selkirk. That Traquaire sent those letters unto Lesley, although it was the general report, I cannot certainly affirm; but it cannot be denied that that same night he sent his Commands to his son the Lord Linton, that he should immediately withdraw himself from the Royal party, which with much jollity he did. This was like themselves, being the ungratefullest of all men, deserting their King of whom none had better deserved, and staining their posterity. And truly, that morning being very misty gave no small advantage to the treachery of the enemy; whom at last Montrose's frighted Scouts discovered to march towards him in a full body, at such time as they were not above half a mile off.  
Montrose mounting the first Horse he could light on, gallops into the field appointed for the Rendezvouz that morning; where he finds a great deal of noise, but no order. The Cavalry being little acquainted with their duty, and lying already dispersed in their quarters, where they dreamed more of bairing their horses than maintaining their lives and honours, upon the first alarm which they received from the enemy's Trumpet, ran disorderly up and down they knew not whither, but never came in the fight. Yet there were a few, and those were for the most part Noble men or Knights, who made all speed thither, and gallantly undertook to make good the right wing: and they were not above six scored ●n all. Nor did the Foot (who were about five hundred) make a good appearance, for many of them looking about their private businesses among the Carriages, by that unseasonable care of saving; lost themselves and all they had▪ And, which spoilt the matter which was bad enough before, most of the Commanders were absent, and never came in the field. Besides, the enemy coming on speedily left them no time for deliberation. The enemy therefore who were six thousand (whereof most were Horse out of England) furiously charging Montrose's right wing were twice gallantly received and repulsed with no small loss; Nor could they make that noble Troop give any ground, or break thorough it, until at last laying along those few foot that withstood them they broke in upon the left flank where there was no horse. By this, two thousand Horse whom the enemy had sent over to the other side of the river, were gotten on the Rear of those noble Gentlemen, who, lest being hemmed in on every side, and galled with the enemies shot at distance, they should fall for nothing, and unrevenged, withdrew themselves every one the best way he could. But the Foot, who could have little security by flight, fight a good while stoutly and resolutely, at last upon quarter asked and given for their lives, threw down their arms, and yielded themselves prisoners. Every one of whom being naked and unarmed without any regard to quarter given, Lesley caused to be most unhumanely butchered. The stain of which perfidious cruelty (by which he hath so filthily blurred his honour, if eany he got in foreign service) he shall never be abl to wipe away. As for those that escaped out of the battle, the enemy pursued them no further, being busy in plundering the Carriages, where they made a lamentable slaughter of Women, Pedees', and Cook-boys: no pity was shown to sex nor age, they went to the pot all together. The number of the slain is not easy to be given, almost no Horse, and very few Foot (besides those that yielded themselves and had quarter) fell in that battle: which may appear by this, that they were no more than five hundred in all, and before the next day two hundred and fifty of them came safe to Montrose, all of them with their swords by their sides, so that there could not be as many more missing: and very few were taken prisoners, and not until their horses being tired, and themselves ignorant of the way, they became a prey to the country people. Whom they, forgetting all the benefits and protection they had but newly received from Montrose, to do the Covenanters a favour, delivered up unto their cruel enemies, to be made by them acceptable sacrifices to Baal-Berith, the god of the Covenant.  
For all that, the Rebel conquerors miss of the King's Standards. The one of them (which was carried before the Foot) was preserved by an Irish soldier, a stout man, and of a present spirit, when others were almost beside themselves; who when he saw that the enemy had got the day, stripped it off the staff, and wrapped it about his body: and being oherwise naked, made his way with his drawn sword through the thickest of the enemy, and brought it to Montrose at night. Whom he received into his Lifeguard, and gave it him to carry in token of his valour and loyalty. And the other of them William High brother to the Earl of Kinoule, a hopeful young Gentleman (who succeeded his Uncle by the mother's side, Douglasse Son to the Earl of Morton, who having received many and grievous wounds at the battle of Alford, was rendered unable for that burden) stripped from off the staff too, and carried it away with him. And conveying himself into the borders of England, skulked there a while, till the coast was a little clearer about Tweed, and then through byways and night-journeys for the most part (being accompanied and conducted by his faithful friend Robert Toures, a stout man and a good soldier, who had been a Captain in France a good while ago) returned in the North, and presented that same Royal Standard unto the General.  
And now at last Montrose when he saw his men totally routed and put to flight (which he never saw before) thought of nothing more for a good space than to die honourably, and not unrevenged; therefore rallying about thirty Horse whom he had gathered up in that confusion, he resolved by fair and honourable death to prevent his falling alive into the enemy's hands. And seeing he was not able to break thorough the enemy's Troops (who stood thick round about him) he galled them on the Front, and Rear, and Flanks, and of such as were so hardy as to adventure out of their ranks, many he slew, others he beat back. But when all that he could do would not do his business, as God would have it, this consideration possessed his resolute and noble spirit; That the loss of that day was but small and easily regained, because but an inconsiderable part of his Forces were there. That the Highlanders were the very Nerves and sinews of the Kingdom, and all the North was sound and untouched. That many of the prime Nobility and men of power, many Knights too and Chiefs of their Septs had entered into an association with him; who if he should miscarry would be suddenly ruined or corrupted, and by that means the King's party in Scotland utterly subdued. Therefore he thought himself bond never to despair of a good cause, and the rather, lest the King his Master should apprehend the loss of him to be greater than the loss of the battle. And while these thoughts were in his head, by good hap came in the marquis Douglasse and Sir john Dal●ell, with some other friends (not many but faithful and gallant men) who with tears in their eyes (out of the abundance of their affection) beseech, entreat, implore him for the honour of his former achievements, for his friends sakes, for his Ancestors, for his sweet wife and children's sakes, nay for his Kings, his Countries, and the Church's peace and safeties sake, that he would look to the preservation of his person; considering that all their hopes depended on him alone under God, and that their lives were so bound up with his, that they must all live or die together. At last Montrose overcome with their entreaties, charging thorough the enemy (who were by this time more taken up with ransacking the Carriages than following the chase) made his escape; of those that were so hardy to pursue him, some he slew, others (among whom was one Bruce a Captain of Horse, and two Cornets with their Standards) he carried away prisoners. Whom he entertained courteously, and after a few days dismissed them upon their Parole, that they should exchange as many Officers of his of the like quality, which Parole they did not over-punctually perform.  
Montrose was gotten scarce three miles from Selkirk when he having overtaken a great number of his own men that went that way, he made a pretty considerable party, so that being now secure from being fallen upon by the Country people, he marched away by leisure. And as he went by the Earl of Traquaires Castle (by whose dishonesty he did not yet know that he had been betrayed) he sent one before him to call forth him and his Son, that he might speak with them, but his servants bring word that they were both from home. Notwithstanding there are Gentlemen of credit that testify, that they were both within; nor did that gallant Courtier only bid the Rebel's joy of their victory, but was not ashamed to tell abroad (not without profuse and ill becoming laughter) that Montrose and the King's forces in Scotland were at last totally routed; his own daughter the Countess of Queensbrig, as far as modestly she might, blaming him for it. Montrose after he had made a holt a while near a Town called Plebis, until the soldiers had refreshed themselves and were fit to march, many flocking to them from every side, at Sun set they all stoutly entered the Town; and by break of day next morning (by the conduct of Sir john Dalyel especially) passed over Cluid at a ford. Where the Earls of Crawford and Airley having escaped another way met with him, making nothing of the loss of the battle assoon as they saw him out of danger. Nor was he less joyful at the safety of his friends, than that he had saved and picked up by the way almost two hundred Horse. But although he was already secure enough from the pursuit of the enemy, nevertheless he resolved to make what haste he could into Athole; that taking his rise there, he might draw what forces he could raise of the Highlanders, and other friends into the North. Therefore passing first over the Forth, and then the Ern, having marched through the Sherifdome of Perth by the foot of the Mountains, he came thither. As he was on his way, he had sent before him Douglasse and Airley with a party of Horse into Angus, and the Lord Areskin into Marre, that they might speedily raise their friends and dependants in those parts; and had also sent Sir john Dalyel unto the Lord Carnegy (with whom he had lately contracted affinity) with Commissions to that purpose. Moreover he sent Letters to Mac-donald, to require him according to his promise to return with the Highlanders by the day appointed. But above all he solicited Aboine both by Letters and special messengers, that he would bring back his friends and clients, who were willing enough of themselves, and wanted no other encouragement than his authority and example.   

CHAP. XVII.  
IT was towards the latter end of Harvest, nor was he corn reaped in that cold Country, nor their houses and cottages, which the enemy had butnt, repaired against the approaching winter (which is for the most part very sharp thereabouts) which made the Athole men to abate something of their wont forwardness. Yet Montrose prevailed so far with them, that they furnished him with four hundred good Foot, to wait upon him into the North, where there was less danger; and faithfully promised him upon his return, when he was to march , he should command the whole power of the Country.  
Mean time frequent expresses came from Aboine, that he would wait upon him immediately with his Forces; and Mac-donald promised no less for himself and some other Highlanders. Areskin signified also unto him that his men were in readiness, and waited for nothing but either Aboines company (who was not far off) or Montrose's commands. About this time there were very hot but uncertain reports of a strong party of Horse that were sent him from the King, whom many conceived not to be far from the South borders. But other news they had which was too certain, to wit, that there was a most cruel butchery of what prisoners the Rebels had, without any distinction of sex or age: some falling into the hands of the Country people, were basely murdered by them; others who escaped them (and found some pity in them that had so little) being gathered together, were by order from the Rebel Lords thrown headlong from off a high bridge, and the men, together with their wives and sucking children, drowned in the River beneath; and if any chanced to swim towards the side, they were beaten off with pikes and staves, and thrust down again into the water. The Noblemen and Knights were kept up in nasty prisons, to be exposed to the scorn of the vulgar, and certainly doomed at last to lose their heads. Montrose was never so much troubled, as at this sad news.  
Therefore to the end he might some way relieve his distressed friends, being impatient of all delay, with wonderful speed he climbs over Gransbaine, and passing through the plains of Marre and Strath-done, maketh unto the Lord of Aboine, that he might encourage him by his presence to make more haste into the South. For his design was, as soon as he had joined his forces with Areskins and Airleys, and sent for Mac-donald and other Highlanders, and taken up the Atholemen by the way, to march in a great body strait over the Forth, and so both to meet the King's Horse, and to fright the enemy, upon their apprehension of an imminent danger to themselves, from putting the prisoners to death. For he conceived they dnrst not be so bold as to execute their malice upon men of Nobility and Eminency, as long as they had an enemy in the Field, and the victory was uncertain. And truly, they being doubtful and solicitous what might be the success of so great warlike preparations as they knew were in providing, did defer the execution of the prisoners. Montrose upon his journey found the Lord Areskin very sick, but his clients (whose fidelity and valour he had sundry experiences of, even in the absence of their Lord) all in a readiness if Aboine did but do his part; for they depended much upon his example and authority. And now the marquis of Huntley, after he had played least in sight for a year and some months, (it is hard to say, whether awakened with the news of so many victories obtained by Montrose, and the reducing of the Kingdom, or by the deceitful influence of some bad star) was returned home. An unfortunate man and unadvised, who howsoever he would seem most affectionate unto the King's Cause (and perhaps was so) yet he endeavoured by a close and dishonourable envy, rather to extenuate Montrose's glory than outvie it. Which seeing it was not for his credit openly to profess even before his own men (who were sufficient witnesses of Montrose's admirable virtues) lest by that he should discover some symptoms of a heart alienated from the King: yet he gave out that for the time to come he would take upon himself the conduct of the War against the Rebels; therefore he commanded his Tenants, and advised his friends and neighbours, scarce without threats, to fight under no command but his own. And then they replied, What shall we then answer to the Commands of the marquis of Montrose, whom the King hath declared General Governor of the Kingdom, and General of the Army? He made answer, That he himself would not be wanting to the King's service; but however, it concerned much both his and their honour, that the King and all his men should know what assistance they had given him, which could not otherwise be done than by serving in a body by themselves. Moreover he fell to magnify his own power, and to undervalue Montrose's; to extol unto the skies the noble Acts of his Ancestors, (men indeed worthy of all honour) to tell them, That the gordon's power had been formidable to their neighbours for many ages bygone, and was so yet; That it was most unjust that the achievements gotten with their blood and prowess, should be accounted upon another man's (meaning Montrose's) score: but for the future he would take a course, that neither the King should be defrauded of the service of the gordon's, nor the gordon's of their deserved honour, favour, and reward.  
All these things the simpler sort took to be spoken upon all the grounds of equity and honour in the world; but as many as were understanding men, and knew better the disposition of the person, saw through those expressions a mind too rancorous and altogether indisposed towards Montrose, and that his aim was to fetch off as many as he could from him, not only to the utter ruin of the King and Kingdom, but even to his own destruction: which God knows) the sad event made too manifest. Nor were there wanting amongst them desperate men, and of good foresight, who condemned this counsel of his as unwise, unseasonable, and pernicious even to himself. For they considered with themselves, that he never had any design that did not miscarry either by bad play, or bad luck. That businesses were better carried by Montrose, and it was ill to make a faction upon the poor pretence of his carrying away the honour of it. For if Huntley joined his Forces, and communicated his counsels unto Montrose, he should not be only able to defend himself, but subdue his enemies, and gain unto himself the everlasting honour of being one of the King's Champions; but if he should make a breach in that manner, it would prove not only dishonourable but destructive unto him. That Montrose (it could not be denied) had got many and eminent victories with the assistance of the Huntleys, but they had done nothing of note without him. Therefore they earnestly desired him, constantly to adhere unto the King's Lieutenant, which as it would be both acceptable and advantageous to the King, so it would be well taken with good men, and honourable to himself. Nor did some of them fear to profess openly, that they would yield their duty and service to Montrose, if Huntley should stand out in his humour; and they were as good as their words. But he refusing the advice of his friends, resolved, what ever came on't, to run counter to Montrose; nor did Montrose ever propose any thing, though never so just, or honourable, or advantageous, which he would not cross or reject. And if at any time Montrose condescended to his opinion (which he did often and of purpose) he would presently turn his mind; seeming to comply with him sometimes before his face, but always averse unto him behind his back, and indeed scarce well agreeing with his own self.  
For all this, Aboine being at that time solicited by many expresses from Montrose, and the importunity of his own friends (that he might be some way as good as his word) met him with a considerable party at D●●minore, a Castle of the Lord Forbeses. He brought with him fifteen hundred Foot and three hundred Horse, all cheerfulI and ready to undergo any hazard under the command of Montrose. And truly assoon as ever they met, Aboine freely protested he would carry those men that he had whithersoever the Lord Governor should lead him; but there were many more behind (which for his scantness of time he had not got together) which his brother Lewis would bring him. Montrose extolling highly his fidelity and pains, turned back again almost the same way he came; that taking up the Lord Areskins, and the Mar Forces by the way, and climbing over Grainsbaine, he might fall down into Athole and Angus, not doubting within a fortnight to be able to pass over the Forth with a great Army. The first day's journey Aboine and his men marched with a good will, but the next night his brother Lewis (whom Montrose had placed under the command of the Earl of Crawford) conveyed himself homewards with a strong party of Horse, making as if he meant to encounter some Troops of the enemy, and carried along with him as many soldiers as he could get, upon pretence of a guard. Crawford returning brought word that Lewis was gone home, but would be back again next day, for so he had made him believe, though he intended nothing less than to come back, a Youth liable to censure for more feats than that. But when upon the third day they came to Alford, it was observed that Aboines men were slow to stand to their colours, that they loitered in their march, that their ranks were thin and disordered, and that they ran away by whole companies almost every night: and at last their Commander Aboine himself was not ashamed to desire to be excused, and to have leave to departed. When all men wondered, and desired to know what might be the reason of that sudden alteration of his resolution, he pleaded his father's Commands, which he was oblig'din not case to disobey; and that his father had not sent him such directions without just occasion, for the enemy's Forces lay in lower Marre, and would be presently upon their backs, if they were deprived of the protection of their own men: and that it was unexcusable folly for him to carry his men another way, when his own Country was in so much danger. Montrose replied, That it was most certain, that only a few Troops of Horse kept within Aberdeen, that they had no Foot at all, and those few Horse nor durst nor could do the Country any harm; and there was no doubt but upon the first alarm of his approach, their Commanders would send for those also to secure the Lowlands. Besides, that it would be much more to the marquis of Huntleys' advantage, if the seat of War were removed into the enemy's Country, than be kept up in his own: and upon that score there was more need to make haste into the South, that they might save the North from the burden of the Armies. He added moreover, That he daily expected aids out of England, which could by no means join with them except they met them on the Southside the Forth. And at last, with much resentment he represented unto him the condition of the prisoners (who were many of them Huntley's own kindred, allies, or friends) who would all be unhumanly murdered except they timely prevented it. To all this when Aboine had nothing to answer he desired his father might be acquainted with the whole matter, and 'twas granted. Such were made choice of to treat with Huntley, as were conceived to be highest in his favour, to wit, Donald Lord Rese, in whose Country he had sojourned, and Alexander Irwin the younger of Drum, who had but the other day married Huntleys' daughter: and both of them were also much obliged to Montrose for their newly recovered liberties. Rese being ashamed of receiving the repulse, had not the confidence to return; and Irwin (a Noble young Gentleman and a stout, who stuck to Montrose to the last) brought no answer but his fathers-in-law ambiguous Letters, of which no hold could be taken. Being desired to deliver what he conceived his fathers-in-law resolution was, he professed ingenuously, he knew not what to make of him, he could get no certain answer but doubted he was obstinate in his fond conceit. Ahoine, first declaring how sore against his will it was to part from Montrose, urged how necessary it was for him to please his dear Father, who was sickly too; and therefore more earnestly desired the Lord Governor to dispense with him for a few days, till he could pacify his Father: and made an absolute promise, that within a fortnight he would follow him with much stronger Forces. And when he had often and freely engaged his honour to do as he said, he extorted with much ado a Furlogh from Montrose, sore against his Stomach, to be absent for the time aforesaid.  
Aboine being returned home, Montrose marched over the plains of Marre and Scharschioch, and came down into Athole; and thence (having a little increased his Army) into the Sherifdom of Perth, where receiving an express out of the North, he is put into new hopes, Aboine having sent him word he would be with him with his men before the day appointed. At the same time came unto him by several ways Captain Thomas Ogilby of Pourie the younger, and Captain Robert Nesbit, both of them sent unto him from His Majesty, with Commands, that if he could possibly, he should make all speed towards the Borders, to meet the Lord George Digby Son to the Earl of Bristol, who was sent unto him with a party of Horse. The same Bearers Montrose dispatcheth to Huntley and Aboine, to communicate unto them those Instructions from the King, hoping by that means, being quickened with His Majesty's authority, and the approach of aid, they would make more haste with their Forces, in the vain expectation of whom, he had trifled away too much time in Strath-Erne.  
About this time the Lord Napier of Marchiston departed this life in Athole, a man of a most innocent life, and happy parts, a truly Noble Gentleman, and Chief of an Ancient Family; one who equalled his Father and Grandfather Napiers (Philosophers and Mathematicians famous through all the world) in other things, but far exceeded them in his dexterity in civil business; a man as faithful unto, as highly esteemed by King James and King Charles: sometime he was Lord Treasurer, and was deservedly advanced into the rank of the higher Nobility; and since these times had expressed so much loyalty and love to the King, that he was a large partaker of the rewards which Rebels bestow upon Virtue, often Imprisonment, Sequestration, and Plunder. This man Montrose when he was a Boy, looked upon as a more tender Father; when he was a youth, as a most Sage Admonitor; when he was Man, as a most faithful Friend; and now that he died, was not otherwise affected with his death, than as if it had been his Fathers. Whose most elaborate Discourses Of the Right of Kings, and Of the original of the turmoils of Great Britain, I hearty wish may some time come to light.   

CHAP. XVIII.  
MOntrose, when he had waited for Aboine with his forces out of the North now three weeks, either on his march, or in Strath-Erne, and perceived that the Rebels began to grow more out rageous towards the prisoners, being impatient of further delay crosseth over the Forth, and came into Leven; and he encamped upon the land of Sir John Buchanan the Ringleader of the Covenanters in those parts, expecting that by that means, lying so near Glascow, he might fright the Rebels (who then kept a Convention of Estates there) from the murder of the prisoners. To which end facing the City every day with his horse, he wasted the enemy's Country without any resistance: although at that time for the guard of the Estates and City, they had three thousand Horse in their quarters, and he not full three hundred, and twelve hundred foot. Notwithstanding before his coming down into Leven, the Covenanters as soon as they understood that Huntley and Montrose agreed not, and that Aboine and his men had deserted him in upper Marre, as a Prologue to the ensuing Tragedy, had beheaded three stout and gallant Gentlemen.  
The first was Sir William Rollock, one of whom we have had often occasion to make honourable mention; a valiant and expert man, dear unto Montrose from a Child, and faithful unto him to his last breath. The chief of his Crimes was, That he would not pollute his hands with a most abominable murder. For being sent from Montrose with an express to the King after the battle of Aberdeen, he was taken prisoner by the Enemy, and was condemned unto death, which he had not escaped, except for fear of death he had hearkened unto Argyle (who most unworthily set a price upon Montroses head, and promised great rewards, honours, and preferments to whomsoever should bring it in) and had taken upon himself to commit that Treason, which he abhorred with all his soul. By which shift having his life and liberty given him, he returned strait to Montrose, and discovered all unto him, beseeching him to be more careful of himself, for not he only who hearty detested so high a villainy) but many more, had been offered great matters, most of whom would use their best endeavours to dispatch him.  
The next was Alexander Ogilby, of whom we also spoke before, eldest Son to Sir John Ogilby of Innerwharite, descended of an ancient Family, and much renowned in the Scotish Chronicles. He was but yet a youth (scarce twenty) but valiant above his age, and of a present and daring spirit. Nor can I hear, or so much as conjecture what they had to lay to his charge, but that new and unheardof Treason, to wit, his bounden duty and loyalty to his King. But there was no help for't, but Argyle must needs sacrifice that hopeful youth, if it had been for nothing but his name's sake; for he bore an implacable feud to the Ogilbies. The third was Sir Philip Nesbit, of on ancient Family also, and chief of it next his Father; who had done honourable service in the King's Army in England, and had the command of a Regiment there. Nor can I discover any reason they had to put him to death neither (besides that which is used when they have nothing else to say, that mad charge of the new High Treason) except it was, that their guilty consciences suggested unto them, that that courageous and vigilant man might take occasion some time hereafter to be even with them, for the horrid injuries they had done his Father and his Family. However, these men suffered a Noble death with patience and constancy, as became honest men and good Christians. And unto these there are two brave Irish Gentlemen that deserve to be joined, Colonel O-Chaen, and Colonel Laghlin, odious unto the Rebels only for this impardonable crime, that they had had many experiments of their courage and gallantry. These Irish Gentlemen were murdered indeed at Edinbourgh, but many more were doomed to the like execution at Glascow, had not Montrose's unexpected approach within a few miles of the City had so much influence, that it reprieved them till another time. The Lord Governor was very much perplexed with the news of these men's death, and it was a question whether he was more vexed at the cruelty of the Rebels, or the negligence, if not treachery of his friends. For besides Huntley, whose Forces he had so long in vain expected to come with his Son Aboine, Mac-donald also himself (of whom he entertained an exceeding good opinion) being often sent unto, and invited also by the nearness of the place, although the time appointed by himself was already past and gone, made no appearance of his approach. Six weeks had now passed since Aboine had engaged himself for the Northern Forces, and the Winter (than which our age never saw sharper) was already deeply entered. Besides, the aids that the King had sent under the Command of the Lord Digby were defeated: all which might easily have been salved, and the Kingdom reduced again, if those great Professors of Loyalty had not played fast and lose in that good Cause. Therefore at last on the 20. of November, Montrose departing from Levin, and passing over the Mountains of Taich, now covered with deep snow, through woods and loghes, whose names I do not at this time well remember, crossing also through Strath-Erne and over the Tay, returned into Athole. There he met Captain Ogilby and Captain Nesbit, whom he had formerly sent with the King's instructions unto Huntley. And they bring word the man was obstinate and inflexible, who would believe nothing that they said; and when they unfolded unto him the King's Commands, answered scornfully, That he understood all the King's business better than they, or the Governor himself; and neither he nor any of his children should have any thing to do with him. Moreover, he sharply and threateningly reproved his friends and clients, who had willingly assisted Montrose, and dealt worse with them than with Rebels. Nevertheless, the Lord Governor thought best to take no notice of any of these things, but bear with them; and whiles he treats with the Atholemen for the settling of the Militia of that Country, he sends again unto Huntley by Sir John Dalyel, as a more fit Mediator of friendship; Who was to inform him of the danger the King and Kingdom was in, and so of the present misery that hung over his, and all faithful Subject's heads; and to make it appear unto him, that it was not one's but his and his son's fault, both that they had not brought in the supplies into Scotland which the King had sent, and that the prisoners who were gallant and faithful men, had been so cruelly butchered; and that yet there were many more remaining that had near relations to Huntley himself, and some also of the prime Nobility, whom the Rebels would cut off after the same fashion, unless they were now at last relieved. And lastly, to pray and beseech him that at least he would grant the King's Governor the favour of a friendly conference, promising he would give him abundant satisfaction.  
Huntley, although he answered Dalyel in all things according ro his wont peevishness, yet he was most of all averse to a Conference; as fearing (seeing he should have nothing to answer to his Arguments and Reasons) the Presence, the Confidence, and the Wisdom of so excellent a Man. But Montrose, as soon as things were settled in Athole, that he might leave nothing unattempted that might possibly bring him to better thoughts, resolved, dissembling all injuries, and obliging him by all good offices, to surprise him, and be friends with him whether he would or no; and to treat with him concerning all things that concerned His Majesty's service. Therefore in the month of December he forced his way very hardly thorough Rivers and Brooks that were frozen indeed, but not so hard as to bear men's weight, over the tops of Hills and craggy Rocks, in a deep Snow: and passing through Angus, and over Gransbaine, drew his Forces into the North; and almost before he was, discovered marched with a few men into Strathbogy, where Huntley then lived: But he being struck with his unexpected approach, upon the first news he heard of him, lest he should be forced to a Conference against his will, immediately fled to Bogie, a Castle of his, situate upon the mouth of the Spey, as if he intended to ferry over the River, and to wage war against the Rebels in Murray.  
And now it comes into my mind briefly to inquire what might be the reason why Huntley bore such a spleen against Montrose, who had never given him any distaste, but had obliged him with courtesies many times undeserved. Nor could I ever hear, nor so much as guess at any other cause but a weak and impotent (emulation I cannot call it, but) envy of his surpassing worth and honour. For I should be loath to say that his mind was ever alienated from the King, but only averse unto Montrose; with the unjust hatred of whom he was so possessed, that he precipitated himself into many unexcusable mistakes; insomuch as he desired rather all things were lost, than that Montrose should have the honour of saving them. And now being already puffed up with an unbeseeming conceit of himself, he was the more exceedingly enraged against him upon the remembrance of those injuries and disgraces he had heretofore thrown upon him; and that was the chief reason (as I take it) that he so often avoided the sight of him. For besides what we have occasionally delivered, both the father and the sons had put neither few nor small affronts upno the King's Vicegerent; some few of which it will not be out of our way to relate.  
The great guns which we told you Montrose had hid in the ground the last year, they digging them up without his knowledge, carried away in a kind of triumph, and disposed of them in their own Castles, as if they had been spoils taken from the enemy, and would not restore them upon demand. But those Montrose had got in the fights at Saint Johns-town and at Aberdeen; in the former of which there was never a man present of that Family, and in the other Lewis Gordon and his men fought on the enemy's side. Besides, they so converted unto their own use the Gunpowder, and Arms, and other necessaries of War, which were gained from the enemy, and only deposited in their Castles as in safe and convenient storehouses, that they would never make any restitution of the least part of them when they were desired. Moreover, Aboine upon his return home after the victory of Kilsythe, set at liberty the Earl of Keith Lord Marshal of Scotland, the Lord Viscount Arbuthnot, and other men of quality of the enemy's side who were within his custody, without acquainting the Governor of the Kingdom: and his brother-in-law young Drum (who by chance was present) earnestly declaring his dislike of it. Upon what terms he did it, it is uncertain, but this is evident, that (besides the affront done to the Lord Governor, and the loss of Dunotter Castle, which was of great strength and concernment in that War, and other Military advantages they got by it) the Rebels would never have had the boldness to fall so cruelly upon the Prisoners, if he had but kept them in safe custody. Yet more, by his own private authority, he exacted tributes, and Customs and Taxes, (which the Governor himself had never done) upon pretence indeed of maintaining the War, but in truth to far other use, and to the grievous prejudice of the King's Cause. Last of al● (which is most to be lamented) either at the entreat●● of the enemy, or for small sums of money, they had enlarged the Prisoners that had been taken in the former battles in the North, and committed to custody in their Castles. Nor would they permit them to Montrose's disposal, though being Prisoners of War he had reserved them for that only purpose, by exchanging them to save the lives of gallant and deserving men. Huntley being pricked in his conscience about all these things, was always as afraid of Montrose's presence as of a Pest-house.  
But Monrrose for all that, passing by injuries, and laying aside all other matters, bestowed his whole endeavours in promoting of the King's service. And to that end he was resolved to intrude himself into his company though never so unwelcome, to insinuate into his friendship upon any conditions, to yield unto him in all things, and to deny nothing, so that he might qualify Huntley's embittered spirit. Therefore leaving his Forces in their quarters, he posted early in the morning with a few Horse unto Bogie, and by his undreamed of approach prevented Huntley of any opportunity of flying or hiding himself. Assoon as they met, Montrose so getting all that was past, invited him in smooth and gentle language to associate with him in the War for the safety of the King and Kingdom: and gave him so full satisfaction in all things, that being at last overcome he seemed to give him his hand, and promised, that not only all his men, but he himself would come in person in the head of them, and be with him with all possible speed. Afterward they laid their heads together concerning the manner of managing the War, and agreed, that Huntley wafting over the Spey, should make his way on the right hand by the sea-coast of Murrey, and Montrose was to go round about on the left hand through Strath-Spey, which was at that time of the year, a very tedious and difficult march; and so the design was to besiege innerness, a Garrison of the enemies, on both sides: and in the mean time to draw the Earl of Seaford either by fair means or foul to their side. That Garrison, however it might appear to be otherwise strong and well fortified, yet was very ill provided for victual and other requisites, which in that sharp Winter and tempestuous Sea could hardly be had. And so now they seemed to be agreed in all things, so that Aboine and his brother Lewis wished damnation to themselves if they did not continue constant in their fidelity and service to Montrose to their utmost breath. And the rest of the gordon's, the Marquis' friends, were surprised with incredible joy, and made as much of their Lord and Chief, as if he had been returned from the dead.   

CHAP. XIX.  
MOntrose supposing Huntley's spirit at last pacified, and seriously inclined to join with him in the prosecution of the War, marched with his Forces through Strath-Spey towards innerness. And the more to amuse the enemy on every side, he sent his cousin Patrick Graham (of whose worth I have had often occasion to speak) and John Drummond of Ball the younger (a gentleman of approved trust and valour, who had often done excellent service) with authority and Commissions unto the Atholemen, that if any should offer to stir in those parts, they should neglect no opportunity to suppress them. The Atholemen being encouraged by their authority and example, shown themselves very ready and cheerful: And they wanted not long an occasion to show it, for the remainder of the Argylian party (either by reason of a general scarcity of all things in their own Country, or being driven out of their Country for fear of Mac-donald, who was very strong, and threatened their ruin) fell upon the Mac-gregories and Mac-nabies who sided with Montrose. And afterward joining unto themselves the Stuarts which inhabit Balwidder, and the Menises, and other Highlanders who still followed Argyles fortune, were reported to make up some fifteen hundred men; and were ready to invade At hole unless timely opposed. And truly they had already fired an Island in Logh-Torchet after they had taken it by force and pillaged it, and had besieged Ample Castle which lieth on the side of the river of that name. Which assoon as they had intelligence of, the Atholemen, being only seven hundred in all, under the Command of the aforesaid Graham and Drummond, thought best to oppose them before they broke in into their Country. They upon the alarm of the advance of the Atholemen raised the siege of Ample, and retreated toward Taich. The Atholemen pursued them hotly, and find them in battell-arry not far from Kalandar a Castle of Taich, For they had possessed a ford, and manned the bank on the other side (which was fortified with a steep hill) with a number of Musquetiers. Which when the Atholemen saw, and perceived that their Forces were not so strong as was reported (for they had not above twelve hundred men) although they themselves were scarce seven hundred strong, yet being heartened by the gallantry and encouragement of their Commanders, they were resolved not to stay to receive the enemy's charge, but to charge them. Therefore they place a hundred good soldiers over against the enemy, as it were to make good the Ford on the other side, and the rest marched away unto another Ford near the Castle, that they might get over the river there. The Argylians, when they perceived the Athole men so resolute, retreat strait towards Sterling. Then first of all those Atholemen that were left below at the Ford, possess themselves of the bank which the enemy had quit, after that they fall upon the Rear of the retreaters, cut off some, scatter others, drive others forward; and the rest of the Atholemen following hard after, put them all to flight. Fourscore of them were slain, the rest escaped by flight: who fared the better, because that same morning the Atholemen had had a foul and tedious march of ten miles long, and had no Horse at all to help themselves. So they having come off with credit returned home.  
At that time the Rebels held their Convention of Estates at Saint Andrews, which they polluted with the Innocent, and I fear crying blood of men, never sufficiently to be commended. They had amongst their prisoners some very eminent men, as appeared by the hatred the Rebels bore them, (for they scarce sought the blood of any but the best of men, but for others of whom they were not so much afraid, they satisfied themselves only with their Sequestration and Plunder) amongst whom were the Lord Ogilby, Sir William Spotswood, William Murray a noble young Gentleman, and Andrew Guthery a stout Gentleman and active, whom they determined to put to death in that City, to appease the Ghosts of the men of that Province with their blood, of whom it is reported above five thousand had been slain in several battles. Now, because they intended not to proceed against them by Law, but according to their own lusts, they have recourse to their old shifts, and make Religion draw the curtain over their cruelty. To which purpose they set up their Prophets Kant and Blair, and others that were possessed with the same spirit, who roared out their Pulpits bloody O●●●●es before the people; That God required the blood of those men, nor could the sins of the Nation be otherwise expiated, or the revenge of heaven diverted. And by this art especially they provoked the hearts of the people (otherwise inclined to pity) to think upon them as accursed things, and owned and devoted to destruction; persuading them, that they ought to have no protection of humane Laws, nor any Advocate to plead for them, whom God himself indicted and accused. Nor did those excellent interpreters and deciders of Gods secret will, make any scruple to sentence the souls, and bodies, and all of so great Delinquents unto hell and damnation. And having by this means blinded the people, it was easy for them who were their acusers and judges both, to condemn the innocent men who were destitute of all Patronage and protection.  
But Ogilby, who was not only the most eminent of them for Nobility and power, but also was a Hamilton by his mother's side, and cousin-german to Lindsey, pretending himself sick, with much ado got so much favour as to have his mother, wife, and sisters suffered to visit him in prison. Which when he had obtained, whilst the Keepers in reverence to the honourable Ladies, withdrew out of his chamber, he immediately puts on his sister's gown which she had put off, and was dressed in all her attire. She also put on his cap in which he used to lie sick in bed, and lay down instead of her brother. At last many salutations and some tears passing on both sides, at eight of the clock in the night, in the habit and likeness of his sister he deceived his Keepers, who lighted him out with candles and torches. And immediately departing the City, he took horse (which he had laid for him) with two of his followers, and before morning was got out of danger. But when the next day his observant Keepers had found out their mistake, Argyle was so unable to contain his wrath and revenge, that he would needs have the noble Ladies (and the more noble for this their compassion and adventure) brought in question for it. But he could not effect it, for by reason of the equity of their cause, they found much stronger friends than he could, of the hamilton's and Lindsey; by whose connivance it is conceived by many that all this Comedy was acted; but in a thing that is uncertain, I shall determine nothing.  
This cleanly conveyance of Ogilby out of their hands vexed the Rebels exceedingly, and made them almost wild, whence it happened that they made a quick dispatch of the rest. And the first that suffered was Colonel Nathaniel Gordon, a man of excellent endowments both of body and mind. Who being near unto his death, bitterly lamented with many tears, that the carriage of his youth had been much otherwise than it ought to have been. And when being ready to die, they offered him an Instrument to sign, wherein he was to testify his repentance, he subsctibed it without any more ado; and withal called God, and his Angels, and the men there present to witness, that if any thing was contained in that paper which was contrary to the King, his Crown or Authority, he utterly disavowed it. Then being absolved from the sentence of Excommunication under which he lay for Adultery long since committed, to the great grief of the beholders, he laid down his neck upon the block. A man subject indeed to that fault, but famous for his valour and soldiership, both in foreign Countries and at home.  
The next that was brought upon the Scaffold, yet reeking with the blood of Colonel Gordon, was a man worthy of everlasting memory, Sir Robert Spotswood, one raised by the favour of King James and King Charles unto great honours, as his singular virtues did merit. King James made him a Knight, and a privy Counsellor: King Charles advanced him to be Lord Precedent of the Session, and now but of late Principal Secretary of Scotland. This excellent man (although his very enemies had nothing to lay to his charge through all his life) they found guilty of high Treason; which is yet the more to be lamented, because he never bore arms against them; for his eminency lay in the way of peace, not knowing what belonged to drawing of a sword. This was therefore the only charge that they laid against him; That by the Kings command he brought his Letters Patents unto Montrose, whereby he was made Viceroy of the Kingdom, and General of the Army. Nevertheless he proved at large, that he had done nothing in that, but according to the custom of their Ancestors, and the Laws of the Land. And truly he seemed in his most elegant Defence to have given satisfaction to all men except his Judges (whom the Rebels had picked out from amongst his most malicious enemies that sought his death) so that questionless they would never have pronounced that doleful sentence, if they had but the least tincture of justice or honesty. But to speak the truth, a more powerful envy than his innocency was able to struggle with, undid the good man; for the Earl of Lanerick having been heretofore Principal Secretary of the Kingdom of Scotland, by his revolt unto the Rebels, forced the most gracious and bountiful King to the whole Family of the hamilton's, to take that Office from so unthankful a man, and bestow it on another: nor was there any one found more worthy than Spotswood to be advanced to so high an honour. And hence happened that great weight of envy and revenge to be thrown upon him, which seeing he was not able to bear out, he was forced to fall under.  
And now Spotswood being about to die, abating nothing of his wont constancy and gravity, according to the custom of the Country, made a Speech unto the people: But that Sacrilegious thief Blair, who stood by him upon the Scaffold against his will fearing the eloquence and undauntedness of so gallant a man, lest the mysteries of Rebellion should be discovered (by one of his gravity and authority) unto the people, (who use most attentively to hear, and tenaciously to remember the words of dying men) procured the Provost of the City (who had been once a servant to spotswood's Father) to stop his mouth. Which insolent, and more than ordinary discourtesy, he took no notice of; but letting his speech unto the people alone, he wholly bestowed himself in devotions and prayers to Almighty God. Being interrupted again, and that very importunately, by that busy and troublesome fellow Blair, and asked, Whether he would not have him and the people to pray for the salvation of his soul? He made answer, That he desired the Prayers of the people, but for his impious Prayers, which were abominable unto God, he desired not to trouble him. And added moreover, That of all the Plagues with which the offended Majesty of God had scourged that Nation, this was much the greatest (greater than the Sword, or Fire, or Pestilence) that for the sins of the people, God hath sent a lying spirit into the mouth of the Prophets. With which free and undeniable saying, Blair finding himself galled, grew so extremely in passion, that he could not hold from scurrilous and contumelious language against his Father, who had been long dead, and against himself who was now a dying; approving himself a fine Preacher of Christian Patience and Longanimity the while. But all these things Spotswood having his mind fixed upon higher matters, passed by with silence and unmoved. At last being undaunted, and showing no alteration, neither in his voice nor countenance, when he laid down his neck to the fatal stroke, these were his last words, Merciful Jesus, gather my soul unto thy Saints and Martyrs who have run before me in this race. And certainly seeing Martyrdom may be undergone, not only for the Confession of our Faith, but for any virtue by which holy Men make their Faith Manifest, there is no doubt but he hath received that Crown.  
And this was the end (a doleful end indeed, in regard of us, but a joyful and honourable one in him;) of a man admirable for his knowledge of things Divine and Humane; for his skill in the tongues, Hebrew, Chaldee, Syriack, Arabic, besides the Western Languages; for his knowledge in History, Law, and Politics; the Honour and Ornament of his Country and our Age for the integrity of his life, for his Fidelity, for his Justice, for his Constancy; a man of an even temper, and ever agreeing with himself; whose youth had no need to be ashamed of his childhood, nor his riper years of his youth; a severe observer of the old-fashioned piety with all his soul, and yet one that was no vain and superstitious Professor of it before others; a man easy to be made a friend, and very hard to be made an enemy; and who being now dead, was exceedingly lamented, even by many Covenanters. His breathless body Hugh Scrimiger once his Father's servant, took care to bring forth, as the times would permit, with a private funeral. Nor was he long able to bear so great a sorrow and loss, for after a few days espying that bloody Scaffold not yet removed out of the place, immediately he fell into a swoon, and being carried home by his servants and neighbours, died at his very door.  
Lastly, they give unto Spotswood another companion in death, Andrew Gutherey, Son unto the most des●●●ing Bishop of Murray, and hated the more by the Rebels for that. A youth, as well valiant in battle, as constant in suffering and contemning death. He also was threatened and railed at by the same Elaire, but answered. That no greater honour could have been done him, than to be put to an honest death in the behalf of so good a King, and so just a Cause; which those that were present should see he embraced without fear, and perhaps another generation would not report without praise. For his sins he humbly begged mercy and forgiveness at the hands of his most gracious Lord God; but for that which he stood there condemned he was not much troubled. After this manner died with constancy and courage a man who if Almighty god had so thought fit had been worthy of a longer life.  
And that now they might put the last Scene to a Tragedy of which most part was acted, after two days breathing they brought forth William Murray, brother to the Earl of Tullibardin, a young Gentleman, to the same place. And truly every man much admired, that his brother being in great favour and esteem amongst the Covenanters, had not interceded for the life and safety of his own only brother. Some imputed it to his sloth, others to his covetousness as gaping after his brother's estate, others to his stupid and superstitious zeal to the Cause; but even all, the very Covenanters themselves, condemned his silence in such a case as dishonourable, and mis-becoming a Noble spirit. But the Youth himself, being not above nineteen years old, purchased unto himself everlasting renown with posterity for so honest and honourable an end. Amongst those few things which he spoke to the people, those that heard him told me these words, which he spoke with a higher voice than the rest; Account (O my Countrymen) that a new and high addition of honour is this day achieved to the house of Tullibardin and the whole Nation of the Murrays, that a young man descended of that ancient stock, willingly and cheerfully delivered up his innocent soul (as unto men) in the usry flower of his youth, for his King, the Father of his Country, and the most munificent Patron of our Family. Nor let my most honoured mother, my dear sisters, my kindred, or any of my friends be sorry for the shortness of my life which is abundantly recompensed with the honourableness of my death. Pray for my soul, and God be with you.   

CHAP. XX.  
THe death of his friends rroubled Montrose exceedingly, as it had reason; but yet it was not able to break or shake his firm and settled resolution. Nor did his noble and more than ordinarily elevated spirit ever give greater evidences of itself than now. For there were many who being enraged with the unworthy murder of their friends, egged him on, being already sufficiently discontented, to a present revenge. And whiles they too much savoured their grief (although it was just) and seemed to desire nothing but what was fit, to wit, to render them like for like, they wearied out the General with their many, and troublesome, and unseasonable complaints. For they must needs be argry, that their companions, their friends, their kindred, noble and gallant Gentlemen, well deserving of their King, their Country, and the General himself, should be murdered contrary to their faith promised them, the custom of War, the Law of the Land, of Nations, and of Nature, and all unrevenged: and on the other side, such Rebels as had been taken by him to be kept rather as in their friends houses than in prisons, to rejoice, to triumph, to laugh at their sorrow: And therefore they humbly desired such prisoners might be tried as Malefactors; nor would the enemy be otherwise frighted from their unheardof cruelty, nor the minds of his own men othermise satisfied and raised up. Whom he entertained with a courteous Speech, commended them for the love they bore their friends, and told them, That the blood of those honourable and innocent Subjects ought to be revenged indeed, by such a way as became honest and valiant men, not by baseness and mischief, as the Rebels do, but by true valour, in a soldierlike way. It concerned them so to tame, as not to imitate the wickedness of their enemies. Nor, if they considered matters well, was it conscience, that those that were prisoners with them, and so could not be accessary unto the murder of their friends, should suffer for those sins of which they were innocent. The faith that they had passed unto them was a most sacred thing, and to be kept inviolate even by enemies. Why should they make themselves guilty of that which they so much abhorred in their enemies? The time would come when they must give a severe account of it unto the most righteous God, and to his Vicegerent the King. In the mean time (saith he) let them set a price upon our heads, let them hire Assassins, let them serd in their Instruments amongst us to murder us, let them make promises and break them, yet they shall never effect, that we shall contend with them in an emulation which shall be worse, or any otherwise than upon honourable and virtuous terms.  
Now Huntley, who intended nothing less than what he promised Montrose before his face, having passed over the Spey, and entered into Murray, trifled away his time, and wasted his strength without either honour or profit, a good way off innerness. For giving his mind too much to prey and spoil, after he had wasted the Country, he heard a flying report that the inhabitants had hid their gold and silver, and the best of their stuff, in certain turrets and obscure Castles. Which whiles he assaults in vain, and could neither by commands nor entreaties be taken off from his resolution, the enemy sending in provision on that side which he had undertaken to block up, relieved innerness with all things that they wanted. Which if he had hindered, as he undertook unto Montrose, the Garrison would have been shortly forced to yield. And Montrose having now received intelligence that Major General Middleton was come with six hundred Horse and eight hundred Foot as far as Aberdeen, and was like to lay waste Huntleys and the gordon's Country, sent Colonel William Stuart unto Huntley, to entreat him to return again unto the siege of innerness according to his engagement: Or if he did not approve so well of that, because the enemy was advanced so near his Territories, he should persuade him to join his Forces with his, and to march immediately towards the enemy, whom the doubted not with an easy hazard to overthrow. To which he answered scornfully, that he would look to his own business himself, nor did he need the help and assistance of Montrose to drive the enemy out of his borders. At last, after ten weeks spent in the siege of a small inconsiderable Castle, and the loss of all the forwardest of his men, he was forced with dishonour to raife the siege, when he was never the nearer. And in contempt, not so much of Montrose, as of the King's Majesty, he retreated to the Spey without the consent or Knowledge of the Viceroy: giving thereby a very bad example to all men, who began to come in thick and threefold with great eagerness unto the King's party.  
Amongst whom the chiefest for wealth and power, and multitudes of followers and dependants, were the Earl of Seafoth, the Lord Rese, & from the furthest Lands Sir James Mac-donald, Chief of a most powerful and ancient family in the Highlands; Macklen also and Glengar the Captain of the Mac-renalds, (and many more) who were some of them already in Montrose's. Army with their Forces, others had sent for theirs. And by this means before the end of March, Montrose might have fallen down into the Lowlands with a far greater Army than ever the Scots produced in the memory of man. But the unexpected revolt of so great a personage did not less encourage the Rebels to persevere in their course, than scandalise and discourage honest and loyal hearts. Whence it happened, that those whose men were already come up to the Army, began to draw off, and steal away privately, and others to make excuses for their delay. All which put together made Montrose to cast about another way. For he resolved (seeing he could do no good with vain, light, wavering and inconstant men by gentleness and good Offices) to reduce them to his obedience by his authority, backed with the strength of arms and severe penalties; and to that end to force all the Highlanders and North-country-men, to take up arms, by marching in amongst them with a confiding party of good soldiers. For he well knew that many Governors and leading men in their respective Countries, and Chiefs of Septs were on his side, unto whom this course would be very acceptable. Nor did he question but the chief and most powerful of the gordon's being weary of their Lord's miscarriage, would do him the best service they could if need was, though it ran counter unto Huntleys' design. However he was resolved to use all fair means, if that would do, before he would put them to the cost of that last and sharpest remedy.  
But because innerness was the most considerable garrison of all the North, and the haven there most commodious for entertaining foreign Forces, he desired nothing more than to reduce that: therefore he surrounded it with the Forces he had. For the enemy's Army under the Command of Middleton was above sourscore miles off, and Huntley and the gordon's lay half way between them in a body. Therefore Montrose dealt again with Huntley to persuade him not to lose his time, but (as they had agreed) to join with him in the siege of innerness; or at least to hover about the Spey, over which the enemy was to pass, and to hinder their passage if they advanced to raise the siege; and if they chanced to get over to join their Forces together and fight them. To all which he answered so disdainfully, that the Viceroy thought it high time to despair of any good from him, and conceived himself engaged to look better to himself, lest at last he should betray him. So that putting no confidence in Huntley, he sent back three Troops of Horse to lie at the Fords of the Spey, to observe the motion of the enemy: and if they came to send him often and certain intelligence. And they, quartering themselves in the most advantageous places for scouting, were careful enough to observe his commands; until Lewis Gordon, Huntleys' son, who then commanded the Castle of Rothes, played a more shameful prank than any he ever did before. He assured those Captains of Horse whom Montrose had sent to guard the Fords of the Spey, that the enemy lay very far off, and intended nothing less than to pass that river and raise the siege; & therefore he persuaded them (who took him for a most faithful friend) to let alone their needless guards (to which they had been appointed) & to come to his Castle to refresh themselves, and with many compliments invited them to a feast which he had provided for them: and they had no more wit than to trust him, and go. He entertained them with a huge deal of courtesy, and besides very dainty cheer, plied them with good store of wine and strong waters. And with a great deal of jollity and ceremonious courtesy, detained them so long till Middleton with a great Army of Horse and Foot had got over the Spey, and had gotten footing in Murray. Which assoon as he had notice of he at length dismissed them, and that with these jeering terms; Go now to your General Montrose, who will have a sharper bout now than he had at Selkirk. Mean time the enemy marched strait and eagerly towards Montrose, and those Horse getting past them with much ado, came not much before them to innerness, insomuch as they seemed to be but the Van of the enemy, and Middleton's whole Army followed within Cannon-shor. But, as the providence of God would have it, Montrose had notice of their approach another way, and having drawn off his Forces a little way from the Town, had got them all into a body. And when he perceived the enemy to be much too strong for him in Horse, avoiding the plain, he retreated with his men beyond the Nesse. The enemy falling upon his Rear, and being handsomely repulsed, kept themselves also close. The loss on both sides was very little, and almost equal. Montrose passed by Bewly into Rosse, whither the enemy pursued him, that taking him in the champain ground which was disadvantageous to him, they might compel him to fight whether he would or no. But besides that the enemy was much stronger than he, the Country people being faithless and rotten, and Seafoths new raised men running away by companies from their colours, moved him with all the speed he could to save himself from the enemy's Horse. Therefore passing by Logh-Nesse, and through Strath-Glasse, and Harrage, he advanced unto the bank of the Spey.  
Montrose was resolved to proceed against Huntley as a public enemy, unless he repent, but would try all fair means first, to see whether it was possible to bring him into a better mind. To which end, taking with him only one Troop of Horse for his lifeguard, in all speed he rid twenty miles unto him to his Castle at Bogy. And as he was on his way, he sent one before to give him notice of his approach; and to tell him, that he came thither alone, and without his Forces, to no other end than to kiss his hand, and to be advised by him concerning such things as concerned the King's service, and he was the more earnest to speak with him, because he had newly received Letters from the King from Oxford, which he would let him see. But Huntley being affrighted with the first news of Montrose's approach, was so averse from the presence of so gallant a man, that in a trice he leapt on Horseback, and with one man along with him, ran away any way he cared not whither; nor vouchsafed the King's Viceroy the favour of a conference or entertainment. Which assoon as Montrose understood, he returned back those twenty miles the same day, being the 27. of May; and was as careful as he could possibly to conceal this frowardness and unruliness of Huntleys, lest it should be a bad precedent. But all would not do, for the gordon's themselves, and others of Huntleys' friends, being most of them very honest men, & complete Gentlemen, told all with a great deal of indignation, and detestation of Huntley; that by that means they might accquit themselves from the aspersion of so unworthy an act.  
Nor can one easily say how great influence that man's example had upon other Northern men: The Earl of Seaforth, who had been but lately, and with much ado reconciled to the King's side, was conceived to begin to falter; and some say, that being still unsettled, he had then underhand deal for the making of his peace with the Covenanters, which truly I can hardly believe. And Alexander Mac-donald himself, pretending I know not what, although he had had often and serious invitations, made nothing but sleeveless excuses and putoffs from day to day. Which carriage of his gave occasion of strange reports of him, as if he, although he was a bitter enemy to Argyle, yet had great correspondence with and relations unto the hamilton's; and therefore stayed at home, and looked only upon the preservation of the Macdonalds, not meddling with public affairs. Which when Montrose considered, he resolved without further delay to make his progress over all the North-country and Highlands with a considerable party, to list soldiers, to encourage the well-disposed, to reduce those that were refractory, by the severity of the Laws and condign punishment, and to deal with them as men use to do with sick children, make them take physic whether they will or no. And he wanted not fitting instruments to promote this desigh, who had earnestly laboured with him to take that course.  
While these things passed at innerness, Huntley, lest he should be thought never to have done any thing by his own conduct without the assistance of Montrose, besieged and took in Aberdeen, (which Middleton kept with five hundred men) but with more loss to Huntley himself than to the enemy. For besides the loss of many valiant soldiers, he gave his Highlanders leave to pillage the City. But what fault those poor innocent Aberdeen-men had made either against the King or Huntley, let them judge, who know that almost all of them were eminent and observed for their loyalty. But for the enemy whom he took in Arms, who were both many and of very good account amongst their own party, he dismissed them freely without any conditions, and looked fawningly upon them, rather like a Petitioner than a Conqueror. Nor when he had many Colonels, Knights, and others of quality (who by chance were found in Aberdeen) in his hands, did he so much as think of exchanging any one of his own friends for them, many of whom were prisoners either in Scotland or England. But this was his humour, being always more ready to do good for his enemies than his friends.   

CHAP. XXI.  
MOntrose being busy about his design, on the last of May there came unto him a Herald with Commands from the King, (who by I know not what misfortune had cast himself upon the Scotch Covenanters Army at Newcastle) whereby he was required forthwith to lay down his arms and disband, and to departed into France, and there to wait his Majesty's further pleasure. He being astonished with this unexpected message, bitterly bewailed the sad condition of the King, that had forced him to cast himself upon the mercy of his most deadly enemies. And doubted not but that that command which was given him for disbanding, was extorted from him by the craft, or force, or threats of the Rebels into whose hands he had fallen. But what should he do in that case? If he obeyed, he must give over the estates of his friends to plunder, and their lives to death; and if he stood in arms against the King's command, he should be guilty of that crime he undertook to scourge in others, Rebellion. And especially he was afraid lest the Rebels should put his actions upon the King's account, and use him the worse for them, seeing they had him in their power: of which the King had given him a fair hint in his Letter.  
Therefore Montrose resolved to call together all the Noblemen, and Chiefs of Septs, and Knights, and others of quality that were of his side; that a matter of that consequence, which concerned them all, might be discussed by general consent. To which end, after he had received so many injuries from him, he dispatcheth Sir John Hurrey, & Sir John Inns, being men of greatest account in his Army, and (as he conceived) most in Huntleys' favour, unto him, to desire him to be present at that so serious Consultation, and deferred unto him the appointment of the time and place. And to tell him moreover, that Montrose was willing to come to his Castle if he thought fit. Huntley answered, That the King had sent him Letters also to the same effect, which he was resolved to obey; that the King's commands were of that nature as not to admit of second thoughts, and after them nothing was left for consultation. When they replied, that that likely was Montroses opinion too, and that he was as ready as any other to give obedience to the King's Commands, if they were not forced; however it concerned them all to provide in time for the safety of them and theirs. And that the credit and authority of what they resolved upon would be greater, even in the opinion of the enemies themselves, if they made a joint and unanimous resolution. He made no other answer, than that he had resolved for himself, and would have nothing to do with any body else.  
Montrose therefore sends his answer to the King by Letters, wherein he was very inquisitive of the condition he was in amongst the Covenanters, and whether he conceived himself safe in their hands? and also whether his service could be beneficial unto him any further? And, if he was fully determined to have that Army disbanded which fought for him (whiles the enemy in both Kingdoms were in a military posture, and crowed over them more and more) what course should be taken for the security of the lives and fortunes of his most gallant and faithful Subjects, who had spent their blood, and all that was dear unto them, for his sake? For it was a lamentable case if so excellnet men should be left to the mercy of them that had none, not only to be undone, but to be murdered. To this he received no open answer, besides some Articles which the messenger brought, which were signed by the Rebels, with which Montrose was to be content. But he in great anger rejected those conditions which the enemy had made, being so unconscionable as they were; and not vouchsafing so much as to treat with the enemy, sent back the bearer to the King, professing, that as he had not taken arms up but by the King Commission, so he would have no condition prescribed him to lay them down by any mortal man but the Kings himself. Therefore he humbly besought the King (if he thought it fit that he should disband his Army) that he would not think much to make and sign the conditions himself; to which, though they proved perhaps very harsh, he promised absolutely to submit, but he scorned the commands of any one else whosoever they were.  
The messenger returning, at last brought with him Articles signed by the King's hand, with Injunctions now the third time, wherein he was required to disband without further delay; and the same messenger charged him in the King's name, under pain of high Treason, to give obedience forthwith to the King's Command. And besides his Majesty's pleasure, there was another thing which hastened him, which was, that those that had engaged with him had most of them privately and by their friends laboured to make their peace with the Rebels, which was evidently known by good tokens of the Earl of Seaforth and others. As for Huntley and Aboine they did not only profess themselves open enemies to Montrose, but also threatened to fall upon him by force of arms, if he did not immediately submit to the King's authority. And Antrim being newly arrived out of Ireland in the Highlands, without either men or arms, busied himself to draw away all the Highlanders, as his kindred & allies, to himself from Montrose's Army, whom in scorn he called the Governor of the Lowlands, making by this means an unseasonable fraction, and a pernicious one to his friends in those parts. All which Montrose having well considered, he was forced according to the Kings command to disband his Army.  
And truly that was a most sad day, in which having solemnly praised and encouraged his soldiers (as well as the occasion permitted) he took his leave of them. For althuogh he bid them to be of good comfort however, and told them he saw some daylight of a blessed peace, and that he did as much service to the King by his present submission, as he had done before by his Martial achievements; Yet notwithstanding they all conceived that that was the last day of the King's authority in Scotland, and all of them believed for certain, that those Commands from the King were wrested from him upon the apprehension of greater dangers to his person if he had not given them. And although some provision had been made by Articles in writing for their Indemnity, yet they had raher have undergone the worst that could fall, than survive idle and unserviceable spectators of the miserable dition of their dearest King. And it was no little vexconation to those generous spirits, to think what an unworthy opinion foreign Nations and their own posterity must needs have of them, as if the Scotish Nation had been unanimously guilty of Rebellion and desertion of so good a King. Besides, their sorrow was much augmented with the consideration that their General, who was most valiant, most successful, and therefore most beloved, should be taken off so unhappily from the King, from his Country, from themselves, and all good men. So that his soldiers falling down at his feet, entreated him with tears in their eyes, that seeing the safety of the King's person depended so much upon it, and he must of necessity departed the Kingdom, he would be pleased to take them along with him into what part of the world soever he went. Professing their readiness to live and fight any any where under his command, and (if God would have it so) to die too. And truly many of them were resolved, though to the certain hazard of their lives and estates, to follow him even against his will and knowledge, and to offer him that service in an unknown land, that they were able to afford him no longer in their miserable Country.  
By the Articles to which the King had consented according to the desires of the Covenanters, it was especially provided, that Montrose should departed Scotland before the first of September, and that they should find him shipping, with provision and all things necessary when he went. These things were transacted the first of August, and a Port in Angus designed for Monrose, whither they were to send shipping from whence 〈◊〉 was to embark. And Montrose to prevent and remove all occasions of exception or suspicion, being accompanied only with his own servants and a very few friends, betook himself thither, and waited for the shipping. About this time his most implacable enemies set abroad crafty and feigned reports by their fit instruments, wherein they confidently averted, that the States of the Kingdom (as they called themselves) would by no means suffer that so gallant a Subject should be banished the Country: For they knew not how great need they might have of a man of his worth, especially if the King who had cast himself freely upon the affections of the Scots could not get any right of the English, but should be put to seek it by force and arms; and if it came to that, no age had afforded a better General than Montrose. And truly, that was the earnest desire and expectation of most men, who were not able to dive into the bottom of the Rebel's plots: but they had far other designs in hand, and another game to play. For what their thoughts were towards the King, the sad event made too manifest; and for Montrose, they laid very unconscionable and unworthy traps to catch him. For they did this, that if they could flatter him up with such vain hopes, and entice him to stay in the Kingdom beyond his time appointed, they might take hold of him upon the Articles, and cut him off with more credit.  
August was almost spent, and no news at all was to be had about the shipping or safe conduct: therefore Montrose, (although he was resolved to be gone by the day the King had limited) that he might more fully grope the intentions of the Covenanters, gave leave to some of his friends to deal with them for further time. But when they brought him nought but uncertain and doubtful answers, he had reason to think they intended nothing but to delude and entrap him. Besides (which made his suspicion so much the greater) there came a ship upon the very last day allowed for his stay (to wit, on the last of August) into the haven of Montrose. The master of it was not only a stranger to him, but a most rude and violent abettor of the Rebels; the Seamen and Soldiers men of the same temper, malicious, dogged, and ill-conditioned, the ship itself neither victualled, not fit to go to Sea. So that when Montrose showed himself ready to departed, and bade them hoist their sails assoon as they could, the Master of the ship told him, that he must have some days allowed him to pitch and rig his ship, before he durst adventure himself to the wind and waves. And then making great brags of himself and his ship, he drew forth a Commission which the Covenanters had given him, wherein he was required to transport the passengers to certain places assigned by themselves, and to carry no body else. Moreover there lay great English ships and men of War every day in sight about the mouth of the river Eske (which makes the haven of Montrose) attending there in favour of the Rebels for their much-desired booty, that by no means he might escape their hands  
But Montrose had sufficient notice of their treacheries, and wanted not some friends of the Covenanters themselves, who informed him by frequent messages that the Sea was sore pestered with the English Navy, and he could not escape safely either into France or the Low-Conntries; that the haven was upon the matter blocked up, in which he was to take shipping, and therefore it was very perilous for him to go to Sea; that his enemies looked for nothing else, than that either by making too long stay in his own Country he should fall into the hands of the Scotish Covenanters, or by going should be surprised unarmed and unawares by the English Rebels. Montrose's friends that were with him were of opinion, that it was best for him in so apparent a danger to return into the Highlands, and draw his men together again, conceiving that he had better trust the fortune of War than so perfidious a peace. But he forbore to take that course, especially because of his most ardent affection to the King: For he was assured, if the War broke forth again it would be laid upon the King though undeservedly, and so he should bring his Person into present danger, perhaps as much as his life was worth. Therefore being straightened on every side, one way with treachery plotted against his own, another against the King's anointed head, he determined with an unalterable resolution to bear all the burden upon his own shoulders. And therefore he withdrew himself, not out of rashness as if he despaired of safety at the worst, but out of sage and discreet deliberation.  
For when he had smelled out the plots of the Rebels beforehand, he had sent some a good while ago to search diligently the havens in the North, and if they chanced to find any outlandish vessel, to agree with the Master for the fraught, and to appoint him to be ready to put to sea at such a day, and to transport the passengers (which should be ready with him) by the help of God into Norway. By good fortune there was found in the haven of Stanhyve a small bark of Bergen in Norway, and the Master was soon agreed with for he was very glad of the opportunity, having hopes of getting. Thithet Montrose sent away Sir John Hurrey, John Drummond of Ball, Henery Graham his brother, John Spotswood nephew to that great Sir Robert, John Lily a Captain of approved skill and coruage, Patrick Melvin such another, George Wise heart Doctor, of Divinity, David Gutherey a stout young Gentleman, Pardus Lasound a Frenchman, once a servant to the noble Lord Gordon, afterwards entertained for his Master's sake by Montrose himself, one Rodolph a German, an honest and trusty young man; and a few servants more. And these he had picked out to carry along with him whithersoever he went, for this reason especially, because he knew the Rebels to be so maliciously bend against most of them, that they could not be safe for never so little a while in that Country. And they on the third of September having a good wind put forth to Sea for Norway; and the same evening Montrose himself, accompanied only with one James Wood a worthy Preacher, by a small cockboat got into a bark which lay at anchor without the haven of Montrose; and being clad in a corpse suit, the Lord and Patron passed for his Chaplains servant. This was in the year of our Lord 1646. and the 34. year of his age.   
FINIS.   

The Continuation of Montrose's History  
IT is not our purpose in this addition to the History of the famous marquis, to deliver his several Negotiations with foreign Princes further than in the general. For howsoever they were in order to the Cause he had in hand, and did add a great deal of lustre and splendour to his worth, in the eyes of strangers, who were indifferent in the case; As likewise it must be confessed, that no subject of that Kingdom ever received higher favours abroad, or procured greater respect to the addresses made in his Master's name; Yet these things being but obscurely known in the Tenor of them, except only to those that were employed and indeed not so proper for our intention in this brief narration, which is to satisfy the curiosity of all, in the manner of his last entry, his defeat, death, and burial, if (it may be so called) Things for aught I know as yet, set down in no certain relation: We shall therefore setting aside his Foreign endeavours, bring him upon the same stage where his Tragedy had both its beginning and ending. Only that you may have a more lively representation of his personal virtues, we shall give you to understand in what high estimation the marquis was with Foreign Princes, as well as with those of England, and Scotland; and point at those honours which did seem to court his magnanimity beyond Seas. In France, with the general consent of the Princes of the blood, and the rest of the Nobility, he was designed Captain General of all the strangers in that Kingdom; A trust (which those know that are acquainted with the Wars of France) of very high consequence, for in them consists the whole strength of the Kingdom. But this advancement of the Marquesses, was by Cardinal Mazarine crossed or delayed, (who was always a professed enemy to Scots in that Kingdom.) From thence he took his journey to Holland, where the Prince then was, in pursuit of his former intentions; but there he met with as great crosses and impediments as he had done in the bowels of his own Country. Duke Hamilton who was his irreconcilable enemy was now his competitor, and being then at the Hague laboured by all means possible to undermine or prevent the Marquis' designs. With him were the Earl of Lautherdale, and the Earl of Calendar, men both of eminent parts, whom the Duke by several engagements had made firm to his purposes; They were both very earnest for a Commission. The Duke having interest in the Prince by blood, could not think that any in that trust, could justly be preferred before him; alleging likewise that he might be more able to perform any design in that Kingdom, his kindred and allies, and those of his Name being very powerful, and in the very heart of the kingdom. Whereas Montrose's soldiers, whom he trusted most, and employed in his former action, were either killed or dispersed; And those whom he had left, so terrified, and squeezed in their estates, that they were utterly unable to help him. On the other part the Marquis' fidelity pleaded much for him, his notable achievements, his poor and slender beginnings, which made him so much the more capable for that undertaking, it being requisite the Prince should employ such an instrument (as the case then stood) being destitute of all means to help him. The Prince who knew how needful it was to reconcile two such eminent Persons, who being joined might draw the greatest part of that kingdom after them (failing of which either of them was sure to oppose the other that should be employed,) made it his main drift to unite them. Several meetings were appointed to this purpose, but all in vain, neither could any industry prevail to make an agreement, so inveterate was their malice each to other, so jealous were they one of another's proceed. This variance made a long demur in that expedition, which was far sooner intended. The causes of which were partly set down in the beginning of the History, and partly hatched by the Duke himself, who looking, as he was a man very ambitious of honour, upon all the Marquis' actions with a squint eye, fretted much that there was any within the same kingdom, who so far surpassed him in gallantry and esteem: nor could he brook that any one should possess the King's ear so much as he, and for these reasons he employed his utmost endeavours in defeating all Montrose's enterprises. But his Brothers known disservices, and bad success, together with his own neglect, or ill managing of business at Striuling bridge, much retarded and obscured his claim to the King's favour, in the particular he sought for. And to speak impartially, the Marquis' worth and experience was such, that it did easily sway the balance in an indifferent man's judgement, even though the other two had been thrown in to make up the weight. The marquis having against his will spent a great deal of time in these disputes, departed at last from Holland, and travelled up into Germany, and so to Austria. The Emperor, who in his late wars against the Swede, hath been very unsuccessful, hearing of his arrival, invited him to his Court, and amongst many other honours conferred upon him, freely proffered him the Command of ten thousand men; which should be a standing Army, constantly to be recruited; With free power to engage at his own discretion, without receiving orders from any but the Empero●r himself. Which charge the marquis being willing to accept, and about to receive, (yet rather that he might if it were possible advance that cause which he had in hand, than for any desire of honour) he was prevented by that happy peace concluded betwixt the Emperor & the Swedes, which all who love the Common good of Christendom, wish to be lasting and perpetual. Being from thence very honourably dismissed, he addresses himself to the Dukes of Brandeburg and Holsteyn; from the last of which, he received those ships which were kept a great while at Amsterdam to no purpose, being three or four very fair vessels and well manned. Which Prince would have willingly contributed more to that service, but that he perceived that which he had before given, to be so misemployed; wherein both he and the marquis were grossly abused, as in the ensuing relation shall appear. Great were the promises which had been made to the marquis by many other Princes, but they proved very slack in the performance, so that the assistance which was so generally expected, proved nothing else but a mere formality & compliment. But the season of the year being now fit for action, he resolves with what speed he can to call together those he could get, and to that purpose removes to Hamburgh, from whence he might have a convenient passage to the Northern Isles of Scotland. But ere we further proceed, it will not be imperrinent to our purpose, to take a slender view of that kingdom, whither this expedition was intended, and of the condition wherein it then was. Scotland was then in a reasonable posture of quiet, for the old grudges by taking away the heads of factions (whereof some had suffered after Philip Haugh, and others were detained Prisoners in England) were taked up for a while. And a certain number of Horse and Foot modelled into an Army, was mustered and disposed of in several places of the Kingdom, to prevent any foreign invasion, or homebred insurrection which might happen. These were commanded by David Lesley, Colonel Mountgomery, Colonel Straughan, etc. being in all fifteen hundred Horse, and three thousand Foot, commanded by Lieut. General Holborn. This handful did at that time over-awe and keep under the discontented party, though far more powerful. For besides those which had been disbanded by the Earl of Lanerick, and Major General Munroe, at the bridge of Striveling, there flocked daily out of England great companies of those who had escaped out of prison; who finding their estates Sequestered, and seized upon, and withal most tyrannically proceeded against by the hot-spirited Ministry, desired nothing more than an opportunity of revenge. Besides these he had a considerable number of his own name and faction in the North. The gordon's, the Atholemen, who (if he had not been crushed at his first entry) would certainly have assisted him. This condition of the Kingdom, made the Marquis appear like a prodigious Mereor hanging over their heads, which awaked those who sat at the helm of the State (whom it did indeed most concern) to endeavour the defeating of his attempts, both at home and abroad. For this purpose was there a solemn Message dispatched to the Prince, than Resident at the Hague, whom presently upon the news of his Father's death they proclaimed King, inviting him home upon certain conditions which were published in this Kingdom, and need not therefore be inserted. In the mean time the Marquis who had now gathered together a company of gallant Gentlemen as well English as Scots, makes all possible haste dispatches Colonel John Ogilby to Amsterdam, to entertain such strangers as might be for his purpose; But he forgetting his Commission, bestowed both moneys and pains in entertaining himself, suffering those, who upon any terms would have engaged, to shift for themselves. There being a great number who had fled out of England, and more who had lately deserted the French, or been cashiered from the Hollanders service. Thus were these goodly Vessels sufficiently provided for service, lost by his neglect, and a limb of the design broken. There happened about this time another business, which did much retard the Marquis' affairs. Colonel Cochran who had been dispatched Commissioner into Poland to the Scotish Merchants, there to require their assistance, having procured very considerable sums of money upon that score, and other provision for the furthering of that expedition, disposed of the money for his own uses, made sale of the corn and provision, together with the Vessel which was provided for the transportation of it, and did himself turn tail to the quarrel. This was another disappointment. General King likewise (whom the Marquis expected out of Sweden, with a considerable party of Horse) either could not be ready so soon as was expected, or else delayed the time of purpose. But the Marquis (as is supposed) fearing lest he should have an express command to desist from his purpose, because the Treaty betwixt the Prince and the Scotish Commissioners was now very near a conclusion, did precipitate himself, & those that were with him, into a most inevitable ruin. Now all those great levies, and aids; Those mighty preparations for the invasion of a kingdom settled in a posture of war, and well forwarn'd of his imentions, amounted not above the number of six or seven hundred at the most, strangers and all. The Common soldiers which adventured over with him, most of them Holsteyners or Hamburgers. He had sent him by the Queen of Sweden, for the arming of such Gentlemen as should upon his arrival betake themselves to his party, fifteen hundred arms, complete for Horse, back, breast, head-piece, Carbines, Pistols, and Swords, all which, (after his defeat in Cathanes) were taken untouched. With this small preparation it was a desperate action to attempt so mighty a business. And although his touching first upon the Islands, did increase his number, and gave him almost the beginning of an Army; Yet were those barbarous people so raw and unacquainted with discipline, that they proved in a manner useless and unserviceable. 'Tis true, the Inhabitants of those Isles, were a people in former times, very fierce, and warlike, and have under their own Captains made many great Impressions, into the very heart of the kingdom. But whether it was the Policy of the late Kings, to leave them untrained, of purpose to break then natural fierceness, or because their own Captains being quelled or cut off, they cared not much to engage under any other, certain it is, That kingdom for two hundred years last passed, hath not made less use of any they had under their jurisdiction, nor have they at this present less opinion of any Scots, for Military courage and valour. And this may be alleged, as a great cause of their remissness and unwieldinesse whilst they were in the Marquis' service. I told you a little before of Montrose's whole Strength, which did accompany him from Germany, whereof two ships, with near upon a third part were sent before, but by storm of weather (which is both frequent and dangerous) amongst those Northern Islands, they were lost, with all the men and arms, nothing saved. This was another check, and as it were a warning and a forerunner of the sad event which followed. But the business being fatal, he must needs contribute his own endeavours towards that destruction which his cruel fortune had provided for him. For he nothing terrified with this success, sends out a second party, which making a more prosperous voyage, landed at Orkney, and entered the Island without any resistance. There being at that time no Garrison or defence placed in any of those Islands, by the States of Scotland; Together with these he sent several commissions for levying of Horse and Foot. Immediately there were several dispatched to Scotland, and the Islands adjacent for that purpose. The people of the Country being in no condition to resist these officers, endeavoured in hopes of favour as much as they could to further the design. A odd those who were not so earnest, were by their own neighbours, favourers of the cause, and these violent Commissioners, forced to take up Arms. Not long after landed the Marquis himself with the rest of his company, together with those Gentlemen which were resolved ro partake of his fortune: Amongst whom were several persons of note. Colonel Hurrey was there, a man who had engaged in all quarrels, but never prospered in any. The Lord Frenderick, for his kinsman the Lord Napier, was left in Holland. Colonel Johnson, a resolute man, and an old soldier, Colonel Grace, a Germane soldier, Harry Graham, his own natural brother, Colonel James Hay of Naughton, Sir Francis Hay of Dalgetie, George Drummond of Ballach. For he had employed as was thought, Colonel Sibbalds' his companion heretofore, as his Agent in Scotland; But he was apprehended at Musselburgh, and did accompany his General in death upon the same Scaffold. The Marquis continued a considerable time in Orkney, raising of Forces, and strengthening himself with such recruits, as the place would afford. Neither was there any preparation at all made in Scotland, to dispossess him of these Islands, either because it might be thought a difficult business to assail him within those places naturally guarded with a rough and dangerous sea; Or because they knowing his strength, expected a better opportunity of him, as they found indeed within the Country.  
After this poor rabble of silly creatures was amazed, He resolves at last to embark, and to that purpose gathers all the boats he could find, ships his men, and in a short space lands them all upon the point of Cathanes, which is the farthest land to the Northwest of Scotland. The people having some experience of the carriage of his former soldiery, and now far more dreading the name of Foreiners, partly by the terrible reports which were constantly given out of him, fled away in heaps, many of them not stopping till they came to the chief City Edinburgh, and there gave the terrible Alarm to the Parliament then sitting. The Commanders were immediately summoned, and charged with all possible haste, to get the standing Forces in readiness, and a Rendezvouz in order to the States command was hereupon presently enjoined at Breithen Northward. Colonel Stranghan, who was then in high esteem with the great ones for his valour lately expressed in the English service, and his zeal to the Presbyterian cause much extolled at that time, had an ample, and a particular. Commission granted to him by the Parliament, to command a choice party of Horse, which should not be subject to David Lesleys orders, but might engage and fight with the enemy at his best advantage. With these, being not above three hundred, he advanced before the Army; David Lesley with the rest of the Horse, and Holborn with the Foot marching after him. In the mean time the Marquis advanced but very slowly, and that he might not be mistaken, (since all the world was much astomished at this Invasion now whilst the King was upon a Treaty) he published a Declaration; Wherein he laboured to clear himself of any aspersion of sinister ends. That his intention was only against some particular persons, who had against the Laws of the Kingdom, raised and maintained a war against the King's Father, and did now by their subtle practices endeavour to destroy the Son also. That he intended nothing against the Generality of the Kingdom. Lastly, exhorting all subjects of that Nation to endeavour to free themselves from the Tyranny of those who for the present ruled the State, and the oppression of the Ministry. But the Country for several causes did not come to second him as he expected. For the Earl of Sunder and, a potent man in those parts, his lands being next to the place where the marquis then was, raised a great power of his tenants and friends, and did his best to terrific and hinder all that were willing to join with him. And though he found himself unable to deal with the Marquis' Forces, yet did he stop all intercourse betwixt him and his friends. And those Gentlemen who had heretofore followed him, and yet inclined to assist him, knowing the danger of the enterprise, considering the fewness of his number, and that his soldiers were much undisciplined, and unlike to the former with whom he had done so great things, began to be averse, and have a suspicion of the event. Yet have I heard some say, which knew well enough the situation of that Country, that if he had not been oppressed in the nick, he might have gained such strengths amongst the hills, as might have given him leisure enough to have strengthened his own party, and tired out the enemy. Howsoever he was not altogether unmindful of a retreat; there is in that Country a Castle called Dumbath, the Lord, or Laird thereof, is the head of a very ancient Family, but no friend of the Marquesses. This Gentleman having left his house in the keeping of his Lady and some servants, ●ed to Edinburgh. The Lady, though the place were naturally fortified, yet upon summons delivered it to Colonel Hurry, who was sent thither by the Marquis with a party of Foot to reduce it, upon condition her goods and estate might be secured, and she with her servants suffered to march away. Hurrey having placed a Governor, and a Garrison as he thought sufficient for the defence of the place, returned to the Marquis, who was now advanced to the place, or near it, where he was to lose at one throw both his life and fortune. The marquis hearing of the enemy's approach, made his whole Forces march at a great trot to recover a pass, which they were not very far from, when he himself in the vanguard discovered the first party, which was Straughans' Forlorn hope, advancing very fast upon him. So that these with their haste and the soldiers running, found them both out of breath and order. The second Party was commanded by Straughan himself, and the Rearguard, as I remember, by Colonel Ker, for he had divided them in three bodies. But now the first party being very near, there was a Forlorn hope of a hundred Foot drawn out to meet them, who giving fire upon them, put them to a disorderly retreat, but being immediately seconded by Straughans' party, they made good their charge, and so terrified the Islanders with that breach, that most of them threw down their Arms, and called for quarter. Only the Dutch Companies, after they had bestowed a volley or two amongst the Horse, retreated into some shrubbs hard by, and there very valiantly defended themselves awhile, but were all taken at last. There were killed in this business to the number of two hundred, twelve hundred taken, very few escaped. For the whole Country being in Arms, especially Sunderlands men (who came not to the fight, but to the execution) they killed or took Prisoners all such as fled. In that skirmish was taken the Standard which he had caused to be made of purpose to move the affections of the people, with this Motto, Judge and revenge my cause, O Lord; and the portrait of the late King beheaded, exactly well done. The Standard-bearer, a very gallant young Gentleman, was killed, after he had several times refused quarter. There was Colonel Hurry taken, the Lord Frenderick, Sir Francis Hay of Dalgetie, Colonel Hay of Naughton, Colonel Grace, and most of the Officers, and two Ministers.  
The Marquis, after he saw the day was absolutely lost, threw away his cloak, which had the Star on it, (having received the order of the Garter a little while before) his Sword was likewise found, and not very far off his horse which he had forsaken. For so soon as he had got clear off that ground where the skirmish was, he betook himself to foot, and lighting upon one of that Country, or one of his own soldiers (I know not whether) took his Highland apparel from him, and so in that habit conveyed himself away. But such narrow search being made for him, he could not long escape, yet he continued in the open fields three or four days without any notice gotten of him. At last the Lord of Aston, being in arms with some of his Tenants, & aboard in that search, happened on him. He had been one of his followers before. In that place he had continued three or four days, without meat or drink, with one only man in his company. The marquis knowing him, and believing to find friendship at his hands, willingly discovered himself. But Aston not daring to conceal him, and being greedy of the reward which was promised to the apprehender by the Council of State, seized upon him, and disarmed him; 'tis said he proffered great sums for his liberty, which being in vain, he desired to die by the hands of those who took him, rather than be made an object of misery and shame (as he knew very well he should) by his enraged enemies. But neither of his desires was granted, but in place of them, a strong guard set over him, and so conveyed to David Lesley. Sraughan having achieved his business with great expedition, and freed the State from this much-feared danger, returned to Edinburgh, leaving the rest of the business to Lesley and Holborn, where he received great rewards and thanks for his eminent service; not without the great heartburning of David Lesley, who seeing a rival risen up to his honour, and one whom he looked upon as an upstart soldier, have so great success, fretted not a little. Howsoever forwards he moves to accomplish the rest of the work, which was now of no great consequence, for there rested nothing within the Country, but only the Castle of Dumbath, which being out of all hopes of relief after the defeat, so soon as they were perfectly assured by some Prisoners whom they knew, yielded the Garrison. The Governor was Prisoner at mercy; The soldiers being Dutch, were upon terms to return homewards. There was nothing else to be done save the reducing of the Islands, and the town of Kirkwall in Orkney, where Colonel Johnson and Colonel Harry Graham were left, when the marquis passed over to Cathanes; but Montrose, either because he could not spare any soldiers, or because he expected better success, had left them almost naked; though there were several places in those Isles which might have been made very renable. Colonel Johnson having understoost of the defeat, with those that were with him, took shipping and returned from whence he came, so did Harry Graham likewise, else both of them had casted of the same sauce, which their General did. Thus Lesteys Forces entered without any resistance, seized upon the Arms which Montrose had brought thither, together with two pieces of Ordnance. The Queen of Sweden had given him a little Friggot of sixteen Guns which lay in the Harbour, the Master of which being gone ashore into one of the Islands, the Company seeing the event of the business, revolted, and brought in that likewise. The victory being now complete, there was a solemn day of thanksgiving appointed through the whole Kingdom, Bonfires, shooting of Ordnance, and other testimonies of joy. But many of the Gentry who had been under his command before, having now engaged with him again, were no partakers in this joy. For some of his papers being taken, many of them were afterwards discovered, and suffered in their estates. The marquis being now in the Custody of his mortal enemies, from whom he could not expect the least favour, Yet expressed a singular constancy, and in a manner a carelessness of his own condition. Coming to his Fathers-in-law house, the Earl of Southesks, where two of his children were, he procured liberty from his Guard to see them: but neither at meeting, or parting, could any change of his former countenance be discerned, or the least expression heard, which was not suitable to the greatness of his spirit, and the same of his former actions. 'tis memorable of the Town of Dundee, where he lodged one night, ●hough it had suffered more by his Army than any else within that kingdom, yet were they amongst all the rest so far from insulting over him, that the whole Town testified a great deal of sorrow for his woeful condition; and there was he likewise furnished with  fairable to his birth and person. Being come to Leith, he was received by the Magistrates of the City of Edinburgh, and staying a while there to refresh himself, he was afterward led towards the City, by that way which goes betwixt Leith, and the water-gate of the Abbey. And with him all the Prisoners of quality on foot, betwixt thirty and forty: but he himself had the favour to be mounted on a carthorse. Having ended this part of his journey with as much state as in triumphs is accustomed to be, he was not at the end of the Cannongate by some other Officers, and the Executioner in his Livery Coat. Into whose hands he was delivered. There was framed for him a high seat in fashion of a Chariot, upon each side of which were holes, through which a cord being drawn, and crossing his breast and arms, bound him fast down in the Chair. The Executioner (being commanded so to do) took off the Marquis' hat, put on his own b●nnet, and the Chariot being drawn by four horses, he mounted one of the first, and very solemnly began to drive along towards the Tol-booth. The people who were assembled in great multitudes, and were many of them heretofore very desirous to see this spectacle, could not now refrain from tears, and those who had heretofore wished him all misfortune, began to be shaken with the first scene of his Tragedy. But the implacable Ministry having him now at their mercy, could never be satisfied with his calamities; They reviled him with all possible spite, objected frequently to him his former condition, and his present misery, and pronounced heavy judgements against him: being come to the Toll-booth, he was very closely shut up, and strong guards set upon him, all access denied to him; no, not his Father-in-law, or any of his friends suffered to come nigh him. There he was a considerable time, all which the Ministers never ceased to exacerbate his misery. Of whom one being asked why they could not otherwise be satisfied, but by so ignominious handling of him? He answered, They knew no other way to humble him, and bring him home to God.  
Certain it was, that all these disgraces which were put upon him, were the only inventions of the Assembly then sitting, to whose wisdoms the devising of his punishment was referred by the Council of State. All this while the holy Covenant was pressed upon him with much vehemency, which when he with much reason and conviction to them refused, they had recourse to their ordinary way of railing, and malediction, and one of them was so bold to tell him, he was a faggot of hell, and he saw him burning there already. They urged also upon him as the price of his releasement from excommunication, an open confession of his faults, and an acknowledgement of the guilt of blood which had been shed the years passed in which he had been in arms; but all to no purpose. But more particularly (because the battle of Kilsyth had been lost upon so great odds) he was much solicited to discover the Conspirators in the overthrow of that Army, but that took no effect; nor is it yet (since he left it undiscovered) known to any Scotish man alive, whether there were any connivance in't or no. He was very frequent in his devotions, whilst he was in prison, and expressed much more cheerfulness than he had done at any time before since his being taken prisoner. After he had endured these private batteries and assaults, with a great deal of constancy, he was at last brought before a public auditory to be sisted. The Parliament had a little while before been called, for proclaiming the King, and ordering the affairs of the Kingdom: whither he was brought, and did appear with a very undismayd countenance, in a rich Mantle laid over with massy lace. His chief adversaries were, the marquis of Argyle, his known and invetetate enemy; Earl of Lowdon, the Chancellor of Scotland, of the same name & faction, Lowdon Ker, a violent and high spirited man; Cassells, another of his adversaries, was gone in Commission to the King. These of the Nobility were most against him; Of the Gentry, the Laird of Swinton, a potent man in that Parliament: Sir James Stuart, Provost of the City of Edinburgh, a man likewise in great esteem; the Lord Hopton, a Lord of the Session, and Precedent of the Committee for Examinations, and several others. But the whole Assembly was violent against him, neither could he be admitted to any place there, that was not publicly invective against him. But amongst them all the Ministers of Edinburgh in this strife carried the honour, and of them Mr. Robert Trayle, and Mr. Mungo Law, two such venomous Preachers, as no man that knows them can mention their names without detest. The first of the two, had been Chaplain before to the marquis of Argyle, and was his companion in his flight from the battle of Ennerlochie, and now Prisoner to the States of England. Many and grievous were the accusatious laid to his charge. First, that he had by his pernicious insinuation diverted the King from the Counsels of his well-wishing Subjects. The introducing the Irish into the bowels of the Kingdom. The murder of some particular persons, the utter spoil and devastation of the marquis of Argyles lands, and the kill and destroying of divers well-affected people, and that in cold blood. The cruel usage of some ministers at his last landing. The Complainers were there present, but could allege nothing, save only that he had restrained them from railing. His transacting with foreign States for the invasion of his Native Country, and bringing in of Foreiners now the second time, and that without any known Commission. His obstinate persecution of all Covenanters, against his own oath and engagement, and his Apostasy from his first principles. The Marquis knowing how much his defences would avail him, did not much labour to clear himself, but answered all in general. For his Invasion they knew partly what authority he had, for the rest he was sufficiently persuaded in his conscience, that he had done nothing, which he might not be answerable to God for, as being in order to his Master's Commands, and to men too, so he might have but an even and an unprejudiced judicatory. Thus having been called once or twice before that high Court of judgement, where he answered so vigorously as was admirable to all, he did at last receive his doleful Sentence, which was accordingly executed upon him two day after, with all the severity and bitterness that could he devised. There was erected in the middle of the Marketplace a large Scaffold, brest-high, in the midst of which, was planted a Gibbet of extraordinary height. The marquis having taken his rest very kindly that night, next morning recommending himself unto God once or twice, took his breakfast very cheerfully. The Bailiffs waited on him to the Scaffold, where the whole people of the City attended his coming at least two hours before. He came uncovered all the way betwixt the Scaffold and the Toll-booth, and in the same rich Mantle he had worn before. Being come thither, he was much detained with a great many frivolous questions, of which, partly the Ministers, partly those whom the States suffered to be about him, desired to be satisfied. He made a short Speech, in which he was often interrupted, the Tenor of which was, that he was satisfied in his conscience for aught he had done in relation to war. That for his own particular sins (which were infinite) he had begged pardon earnestly of God, and had an inward hope to obtain it; He freely forgave all those who had sought his overthrow, and entreated the Charity of all the people, to pray both for him and them. The Ministers, because he was under the sentence of Excommunication, refused to pray for him, and even on the very Scaffold, were very bitter against him. After he had about a quarter of an hour prayed with his hat before his eyes, he was ready to go to his suffering, when his Book and Declaration, and all other Papers which he had published in his life, being tied in a string together, were hanged about his neck. He was very earnest that he might have the liberty to keep on his hat, it was denied; he requested he might have the privilege to keep his cloak about him, neither could that be granted. Then with a most undaunted courage he went up to the top of that prodigious gibbet, where having freely pardoned the Executioner, he gave him three or four pieces of gold, and enquired of him how long he should hang there, he told him three hours, then commanding him at the uplifting of his hands, to tumble him over, he was accordingly thrust off by the weeping Executioner. The whole people gave a general groan, and it was very observable, that even those who at his first appearance had bitterly inveighed against him, could not now abstain from tears. 'Tis said, that Argyles expressions had something of grief in them, and did likewise weep at the rehearsal of his death, (for he was not present at the Execution.) Howsoever they were by many called Crocodiles tears, how worthily I leave to others Judgement. But I am sure there did in his son, the Lord of Lorn, appear no such sign, who neither had so much tenderness of heart to be sorry, nor so much paternal wit as to dissemble; who entertaining his new Bride, (the Earl of Murrays Daughter) with this spectacle, mocked and laughed in the midst of that weeping Assembly: And staying afterwards to see him hewn in pieces, triumphed at every stroke which was bestowed upon his mangled body. Thus ended the life of the Renowned marquis, though not his punishment, (if that can propetly be called a punishment which men's bodies suffer after death.) For being cut down, without so much as any to receive his falling Corpse, his Head was smitten off, his arms by the shoulders, and his legs by the knees, and so put into several boxes, made for the purpose; the rest of his body was by three or four Porters, carried out to the public place of Execution, called the Borrow moor, answerable to that of Tyborn by London, but walled about, and there was it thrown into a hole, where afterwards it was digged up by night, and the linen in which it was folded stolen away. His Head was fixed upon the Toll-booth, over against the Earl of Gowries, with an Iron Cross over it, lest by any of his friends it should have been taken down; the rest of his parts were dispatched to the most eminent places of the Kingdom, to Sterling, Dundee, Glasgow, Aberdeen, which were all taken down afterwards by the English, or their permission. But the Tragedy was not yet full, for Hurry was the next in that bloody roll, who pleading the benefit of quarter, and a great charge of Children, thought to have tasted of the Parliaments mercy. But he was condemned notwithstanding, to lose his head in the same place, Jealous they were of him before, when he was engaged in their service against Montrose, but could not produce any sufficient evidence. The chief accusations wherewith he was charged, the last Invasion with the marquis, and his former carrying Arms against them under Prince Rupert at Marston Moor. With him suffered young Spotswood of Daersie, a complete young Gentleman, and very worthy of pity, (if any had been shown) being very young, but an excellent spirit, and a good Scholar. The next couple was Sir Francis Hay of Dalgesie, and Colonel Sibbalds': than which two the Nation could not afford two more accomplished for person, and parts. The first being a Catholic, (and therefore not coming under the Compass of the Ministers Prayers) without speaking a word to any body, but throwing some Papers out of his pocket, took off his doublet, kissed the fatal instrument, kneeled down, and received the blow. The other, with a little more vigour, smiled a while, and talked to the disorderly rabble that was about him: then with such an Heroic gesture marched to the block, as if he had been to act a gallant in a Play. The end of the last man was somewhat Comical, though the poor Gentleman lost his life. His name was Captain Charters, of an honourable and ancient Family in that Kingdom. The Ministers having dealt with him to acknowledge his fault publicly, and dehort all others from it (which from no other of his Companions they could ever extort) he, though resolute enough, and a good Scholar, yet partly by the persuasion of his Friends, and partly by weakness which was occasioned by his wounds, agreed to their desire, and was content to make a public Manifesto, in hopes his life might be saved. With this conquest of Conscience, the Ministers (to produce their great work to the Common people) came vaunting upon the Scaffold. He all this while suspecting nothing less than death, made a long and tedious Harangue to the people, wherein he acknowledged his Apostasy from the Covenant, and other things which he had vented in auricular confession before to the Ministers; which very energetically they had penned for him. In lieu of granting his life which he expected, (lest he should fall off from his principles which he had openly processed as some of their converts had done before) fairly they cut off his Head, and sealed his confession with his blood. The rest being for the most part strangers, or such as had spent most part of their time in service abroad, were dismissed, after Bond given not to enter the Kingdom again, in a hostile manner.   

A true and perfect Relation, of all the passages concerning the Examination, Trial and Death of the most Honourable James marquis of Montrose, Earl of Kincardin, Lord Graeme, Baron of Montdieu, etc. Knight of the most Honourable order of St. George, Lieutenant Governor, and Captain General for his Majesty in the Kingdom of Scotland.  
THe Parliament of Scotland being informed that the marquis of Montrose was taken, and foreseeing that his countenance and carriage might gain him some favour amongst the People, though fit to give out their sentence against him before he should come to Edinburgh. And therefore upon the 17. of May anno 1650. in the morning, they appointed a Committee to prepare and give in their opinions what was fittest to be done with him, where the same forenoon they gave in their report in writing to this effect: That so soon as he should come to the Town, he should be met at the Gate by the Magistrates, and Hangman; That he should be tied with cords upon a Cart bareheaded, and the Hangman to ride upon the horse that drew the Cart, covered before him, and so to be brought through the Town. That he should be hanged on a Gibbet at the Cross of Edinburgh until he died, his History, and Declaration hanging about his neck, and so hang three hours in public view of all the people: after which he should be behended, and quartered. His head to be fixed upon the Prison house of Edinburgh, and his legs and arms over the gates of the Cities of Sterling, Glascow, Perth, alias Saint Johns-Town, and Aberdeen. And in case he repent, (whereby the Sentence of Excommunication may be taken off by the Church); the bulck of his body should be buried in the Gray-Fryers; if not, to be buried in the Borrow-moor.  
Upon the 18. day about four a clock in the afternoon, he was brought in at the Water-gate, and according to the Sentence, was met by the Magistrates, the guards, and the Hangman of the City, the rest of the Prisoners being tied two and two together, going bareheaded before him. So soon as he came within the gate, the Magistrates shown him the Sentence, which when he had read, and perceived the Cart, and the Hangman there ready, he said; He would willingly obey, he was only sorry that through him, his Majesty whose person he presented, should be so dishonoured. Then going cheerfully into the Cart, he being uncovered, was by the Hangman tied thereunto with ropes, and the Hangman on the horse rid covered; thus was he carried to the Prison, and in all the way, there appeared in him such a Majesty, Courage, and Modesty, no way Daunted, That his very Enemies, nay common women, who as it was believed by divers, would have stoned him in the Cart as he passed, were upon the sight of him so astonished, and moved, that their intended curses were turned into tears and Prayers for him; Insomuch as the next day (being Sunday,) the Ministers preached against them for not reviling and stoning of him as he passed along.  
When he was taken from the Cart, he gave the Hangman gold, telling him, That was a reward for driving the Cart. It was seven a clock at night before he was entered into the Prison, and immediately the Parliament met, and sent some of their Members, and some Ministers to examine him; but he refused to answer any thing to them, until he was satisfied upon what terms they stood with the King, his Royal Master; Which being reported unto the Parliament, they ceased proceeding against him until Monday, and allowed their Commissioners to tell him, that the King and they were agreed: He desired to be at rest, for he was weary with a long journey, and he said, The Compliment they had put upon him that day was somewhat tedious.  
The next day being Sunday, he was constantly attended by Ministers and Parliament men, who still pursued him with threaten, but they got no advantage of him; he told them, they thought they had affronted him the day before by carrying him in a Cart, but they were much mistaken; For he thought it the most Honourable and joyfull'st journey that ever he made, God having all the while most comfortably manifested his presence to him, and furnishing him with resolution to overlook the reproaches of men, and to behold him, for whosE cause he sufered.  
Upon Monday in the forenoon, he was brought before the Parliament, and after the delivery of a long penned discourse by the Chancellor, wherein he was pleased to take notice of his miscarriages againsT the first Covenant, the League and Covenant, his Invasion, and joining with the Irish Rebels, and bloodguiltiness; and that now, how God had brought him to just punishment: He desired to know if he might be allowed to speak for himself, which being granted, he said, Since you have declared unto me, that you have agreed with the King, I look upon you, as if his Majesty were sitting amongst you; and in that Relation I appear with this reverence, bareheaded: My care hath been always to walk as became a good Christian, and a loyal Subject; I engaged in the first Covenant, and was faithful to it, until I perceived some private persons under colour of Religion intended to wring the Authority from the King, and to seize on it for themselves; and when it was thought fit, for the clearing of honest men, that a bond should be subscribed, wherein the security of Religion was sufficiently provided for, I subscribed. For the League and Covenant, I thank God I was never in it, and so could not break it; but how far Religion hath been advanced by it, and the sad consequences that have followed on it, these poor distressed Kingdoms can witness; for when his late Majesty had by the blessing of God almost subdued those enemies that risen against him in England, and that a faction of this Kingdom went in to the assistance of them; His Majesty gave Commission to me, to come into this Kingdom, and to make a diversion of those forces that were going from hence against Him. I acknowledged the command most just, and I conceived myself bound in conscience and duty to obey it. What my carriage was in this Country, many of you may bear witness; Disorders in any Army cannot be prevented, but they were no sooner known, than punished; never was any blood spilt but in battle, and even then many thousand lives have I preserved; and as I came in upon his Majesty's Warrant, So upon his Letters did I lay aside all interest, and retreated.  
And for my coming in at this time, it was by his Majesty's command, in order to the accelerating of the Treaty betwixt him and you; His Majesty knowing, that when ever he had ended with you, I was ready to retire upon his call. I may justly say, that never subject acted upon more Honourable grounds, nor by a more lawful power, than I did in this service; and therefore I desire you to lay aside prejudice, and consider me as a Christian in relation to the justice of the quarrel; as a Subject in relation to my Royal Master's commands; and as your Neighbour in relation to the many of your lives I have preserved in battle; and be not too rash, but let me be judged by the Laws of God, the Laws of Nature, and Nations, and the Laws of this Land; if you do otherwise, I do hear appeal from you, to the Righteous judge of the world, who one day must be both your judge and mine, and who always gives Righteous judgement.  
This he delivered with such Gravity, and without Passion, as was much admired even of his enemies. After which, the Chancellor commanded the Sentence to be read, which he heard with a settled and an unmoved countenance, and desiring to be further heard, was presently stopped by the Chancellor, who commanded he should be presently removed back again to prison; where being no sooner come, but the Ministers assault him afresh, aggravating the terror of the Sentence, thereby to affright him. He acknowledged himself much beholding to the Parliament for the Honour they put upon him, saying, He took it for a greater honour to have his head stand upon the Prison Gate for this quarrel, than to have his picture in the King's Bedchamber. And (lest his Loyalty should be forgotten) they had highly honoured him, in designing lasting monuments to four of the chiefest Cities, to bear up his memorial to all posterity; Wishing he had had flesh enough, to have sent a piece to every City in Christendom, to witness his loyalty to his King and Country.  
His Friends were not suffered to come near him, but a guard was always in the Chamber with him, insomuch as he had neither time, nor place for his private devotions, but in their hearing.  
The next day being the 21. Clothed in a Scarlet cloak richly laced with Gold lace, he was brought to the Scaffold: He came along the Streets with so great state, and there appeared in his countenance so much Beauty, Majesty and Gravity, as amazed the beholders; and many even of his Enemies did acknowledge him to be the gallantest subject in the World: but because all his Friends and well-willers were debarred from coming near him, there was a boy designed for that purpose on the Scaffold, who took his last Speech, Which was to this effect.  
I am sorry if this manner of my End be scandalous to any good Christian. Doth it not often happen to the righteous according to the ways of the wicked, and to the wicked, according to the ways of the righteous? doth not sometime a just man perish in his righteousness, and a wicked man prosper in his malice? They who know me, should not disesteem me for this; many greater than I have been dealt with in this kind; yet I must not say, but that all God's Judgements are Just; For my private sins, I acknowledge this to be just with God, I submit myself to him: but in regard of man, I may say, they are but instruments, God forgive them, I forgive them, they have oppressed the poor, and violently perverted Judgement and Justice, but he that is higher than they, will reward them.  
What I did in this Kingdom, was in obedience to the most just Commands of my Sovereign, for his defence in the day of his distress, against those that risen up against him. I acknowledge nothing, but fear God and Honour the King, according to the commandments of God, and the Law of Nature, and Nations, and I have not sinned against man, but against God, and with him there is Mercy, which is the ground of my drawing near unto him.  
It is objected against me by many, (even good People,) That I am under the Censure of the Church; This is not my fault, since it is only for doing my Duty, by obeying my Prince's most just Commands, for Religion, His Sacred Person, and Authority. Yet I am sorry they did Excommunicate me, & in that which is according to God's Laws, without wronging my Conscience or Allegiance. I desire to be relaxed; if they will not do it, I appeal to God who is the righteous Judge of the world, and who must, and will, I hope, be my Judge and Sviour.  
It is spoken of me, that I should blame the King (God forbidden,) For the late King, he lived a Saint, and died a Martyr; I pray God, I may so end as He did; If ever I should wish my Soul in another man's stead, it should be in his. For his Majesty now living, never people I believe might be more happy in a King: His Commands to me were most just; in nothing that he promiseth will he fail. He deals justly with all men, I pray God he be so dealt withal, that he be not betrayed under trust, as His Father was.  
I desire not to be mistaken, as if my carriage at this time in Relation to your ways were stubborn; I do but follow the light of my own Conscience, which is seconded by the working of the good Spirit of God that is within me, I thank him, I go to Heaven's Throne with joy. If He enable me against the fear of Death, and furnish me with courage, and confidence to embrace it even in its most ugly shape, Let God be glorified in my end, though it were in my damnation. Yet I say not this out of any fear or distrust, but out of my duty to God, and Love to his people.  
I have no more to say, but that I desire your Charity and Prayers. I shall pray for you all. I leave my Soul to God, my Service to my Prince, my Good will to my Friends, and my Na●●e, and Charity to you all. And thus briefly I have exonerated my Conscience.  
Being desired to pray apart, He said, I have already poured out my Soul before the Lord who knows my heart, and into whose hands I have commended my Spirit, and he hath been graciously pleased to return to me a full assurance of peace in Jesus Christ my Redeemer, and therefore if you will not join with me in prayer, my reiterating again will be both Scandalous to you, and me. So closing his eyes, and holding up his hands, he stood a good space at his inward devotions, being perceived to be inwardly moved all the while; When he had done, he called for the Executioner, and gave him money. Then having brought unto him (hanging in a cord) his Declaration, and History, he hanged them about his neck, saying, though it hath pleased His Sacred Majesty that now is, to make him one of the Knights of the most Honourable Order of the Garter, yet he did not think himself more Honoured by the Garter, than by that cord with the Books, which he would embrace about his neck with as much joy and content, as ever he did the Garter, or a chain of gold, and therefore desired them to be tied unto him as they pleased.  
When this was done, and his ams tied, he asked the Officers, If they had any more Dishonour, as they conceived it, to put upon him, he was ready to accept it. And so with an undaunted Courage and Gravity suffered, according to the Sentence passed upon him.  
THe death of the noble marquis was not bewailed as a private loss, but rather as a public calamity. The greatest Princes in Europe expressed no small sorrow for his unhappy end. And indeed we have not had in this latter Age a man of more eminent parts either of body or of mind. He was a man not very tall, nor much exceeding a middle stature, but of exceeding strong composition of body, and incredible force, with excellent proportion and feature; Dark brown haired, sanguine complexion, a swift and piercing grey eye, with a high nose, somewhat like the ancient sign of the Persian King's Magnamity. He was of a most resolute and undaunted spirit, which began to appear in him, to the wonder and expectation of all men, even in his childhood. Whom would it not have startled to attempt as he did at his first entry into Scotland, a journey wherein he could not almost escape discovery, all passes being so laid for him, but even when he was known, and almost made public, he proceeded in his intention? He was a man of a very Princely courage, and excellent addresses, which made him for the most part be used by all Princes with extraordinary familiarity; A complete Horseman, and had a singular grace in riding. Nor is it less wonderful, how in so great scarcity of all things, when war in that Country is but tedious with the greatest plenty it can afford, he could patiently endure so much distress. Nor is it less to be wondered at, how he could win so much upon those Irish, who had no tie to him either of Country, Language or Religion, as he did. More especially when they wanted not all manner of temptation, that either their own miseries and intolerable duty could suggest, or the wit and sagacity of the enemy could invent to make them leave him, and abandon the service. Besides, the many examples shown upon them, and their continual want of Pay, either of which accidents in an Army is ground enough, and has been many times the occasion of mutiny and desertion. Nor had he only an excellent and mature judgement for providing and forecasting of business, but a prompt and ready spirit likewise in matters of present danger and sudden calamity, and these things which might have confused another another man's understanding, as such sudden chances often do, were a whetting to his wit. There are many stratagems in several Histories related, which in the heat of action have been put in practice for the regaining of a day already lost, or in danger to be so. As that of Jugurtha, a politic and valiant Prince, who in the heat of a battle betwixt him and Marius the Roman Consul, road up and down in the head of the Army, showing his bloody sword, and affirming that he had slain Marius with his own hand, which word did so encourage the Numidians, and amaze the Romans, that had not Marius in time appeared, that day had been in hazard. It is likewise reported of one of the Roman Captains, that he fling his Standard amongst the middle of the enemy, that his own Soldiers by pressing forward to rescue it, might break and disorder the enemy. Likewise of another that took the bridles off the horse-heads, that every man might be a like valiant, and charge, as we say, without fear or wit. But beyond all these, in my opinion, was that device of the Marquesses, who at Alderne being in a great strait, one wing of his Army being routed, and the other in a very staggering condition, he did so incense that which was yet whole, with the feigned success of the other, that they valiantly charged the enemy, and put the business again into an even balance. And very like was it to that device of Tullus Hostilius, who being deserted by Metius King of the Alban, told his soldiers he had done't of purpose to try them, and by that means turned their fear into indignation. He was exceeding constant and loving to those that did adhere to him, and to those he knew, very affable, though his carriage, which indeed was not ordinary, did make him seem proud; Nor can his enemies lay any greater fault to his charge, than his insatiable desire of honour, which he did pursue with as handsome and heroic actions as ever any did, and such as had neither admixtion of avarice or self-ends, though he was therewith by some most unworthily branded. For these and the like virtues of which he was the rich possessor, he was lamented all Christendom over, by all sorts of men, & since his death too by those who had the greatest hand in't, though their success at that time did animate their cruelty.  
Nescia mens hominum fati sortisque futureae,  
Et servare modum rebus sublata secundis.   

The Speech of Colonel William Sybbald intended by him to have been spoken on the Scaffold at the time of his Execution at Edinborough, Jan. 7. 1650. but hearing that Liberty would not be given him to speak so freely, he gave a Copy of it to a special friend.  
GEntlemen, I am brought this day to this place, to pay a debt to Nature before it be due; and by the malice and cruelty of my merciless enemies, I am sentenced to die as a Traitor to my Country, for endeavouring to do service for my King, on whose happiness and welfare does depend the welfare of these Kingdoms; and to whom I am bound both by the Law of God and man to perform all faithful and loyal service: And as the cause for which I suffer proclaims my loyalty, so their Sentence does declare to all the world their disloyalty, and their intentions against the King.  
Their self-guiltiness makes cowardly spirits cruel; and such was their proceed against me, as that I could not obtain an Advocate to plead for me, nor any man skilful in the Laws, either to advise with me, or to write my Defence, though they knew me to be ignorant of the Laws. Thus is my innocence and integrity betrayed, partly by their malice, and my own ignorance.  
The truth is, they did proffer to do me any courtesy or favour, if I would make an ingenuous confession; that is, accuse some Noblemen and Gentlemen of keeping correspondency with his Majesty, or with the marquis of Montrose; which if I had done, I deserved to have been branded with perpetual infamy, for I never knew any man in this Kingdom that did keep correspondency with them: neither had I Commission from his Majesty, or the marquis of Montrose to treat with any, I did indeed speak with some Noblemen and Gentlemen, because I was formerly obliged unto them for their love to me, and did expect from them some small assistance to furnish, me in my journey; but I never spoke with them concerning the public Affairs, no further than the weekly Gazettes made known to all the world; if these great Fish could have been taken in our statesmen's Nets, it might have been that such a Minim as I, should have escaped the Bailiff of the Fish-markets hand this day.  
I have been from my youth a Soldier; and though that Calling in itself be honourable, yet men in that Calling have greater occasions and provocations to sin than in any private Calling. Besides naturally my youth led me to some abominable sins, and custom in them did for many years detain me captive unto them; so that I cannot but confess, that to me appertaineth shame and confusion in this life, and damnation of soul and body eternally in Hell fire, if God should deal with me according to my desert; my comfort is, that the blood of my Saviour cries louder in his ears for mercy, than my sins do for vengeance; and that he who hath promised a free pardon and remission unto all penitent sinners through faith in Jesus Christ, will purge and cleanse my Soul from all uncleanness, and deliver me from all blood-guiltiness by the blood of his Son our Saviour. The true sorrow that I find in my Soul for my former sins, and that godly resolution and steadfast purpose I have to lead a new life if it please God to continue it, together with the joy, the patience, and the courage I have to suffer, gives me some assurance of this blessed hope, that through faith in Christ Jesus my Saviour, my penitent Soul though sinful shall be saved.  
And as for my Religion, I die, as I lived, a true Protestant; this Religion, I thank God, as it preserved me from Popish Superstition, so it kept me from being seduced by the Novelties of the times, and from being deluded with the wicked Doctrine which is now taught by the Reformers of the Kirk. It was this Religion which did keep my hand from your Covenant: of which in the space of some five years you gave two interpretations, quite contradictory; for in the year 1639. the Assembly did affirm (as appears by our Acts of Parliament and Assembly) that in all causes whatsoever you were to defend and maintain the person and dignity of your King; but in the year 1644. you limit your obedience to your King, to your Religion, Laws, and Liberty; and make yourselves in all differences between the King and you, both Judge and Party. The Religion in which I was bred, taught me to give both to God, and my King their due; it taught me to honour and worship God, and to expect Salvation through Christ; and to live soberly, and to deal justly with all men. I ever hated that Religion which made Saints or Angels sharers with God in his worship; or men partakers with my Redeemer in the work of my Redemption, or that made our Christian liberty a cloak of maliciousness; and though naturally I inclined to evil, and wicked company drew me to most heinous and filthy sins; yet I thank God I hated that Religion that taught impiety and wickedness, Rebellion, Murder and Injustice, or that approved the kill of Kings and their loyal Subjects for their loyalty, as having its original rather from the Devil, who was a murderer from the beginning, than from God; and I did ever esteem it more agreeable to man's sinful and corrupted nature, than to God's holy Word. I have heard a learned man say, that it were better to deny God to be, than to believe him to be such an one who delights in the bloody sacrifices of men and women, or to think that he is such an one who delights in cruelty and murder; the God whom we serve and worship, is the Saviour of the world, the peserver of man, the Redeemer of Mankind, the avenger of his blood. I have been taught from God's word, that he hath no pleasure in wickedness, neither shall any evil dwell with him; undoubtedly such bloody Sacrifices cannot be pleasing or acceptable to him, for they are repugnant to his nature, and contradictory to the Justice and equity of his holy Law.  
It is my greatest grief at this time, I did not walk according to the purity of my Religion, and the holiness of God, who hath called us to the knowledge of his truth. Therefore let me entreat you to pray unto God with me, and for me, that he would be pleased to pardon my many and great sins; that he would purge my soul with the blood of his Son, from the guilt and pollution of all my sins; that I may be presented unto my heavenly Father without spot or wrinkle, holy, without blemish; that he would receive me through the merits of my Saviour into everlasting peace, and into the glorious estate of his chosen Saints in heaven. O Lord into thy hands I commend my soul; Lord Jesus receive my spirit; O merciful Father forgive my Enemies, and lay not this sin to their charge, Amen.  
FINIS.   

Upon the Death of King Charles the First.  

GReat! Good! and Just! could I but Rate  
My Griefs, and Thy too Rigid fate,  
I'd weep the world to such a strain,  
As it should Deluge once again.  
But Since Thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies,  
More from Briareus Hands, than Argus eyes,  
I'll sing Thy Obsequies with trumpet Sounds,  
And write Thy Epitaph with Blood and Wounds.   MONTROSE, 
Written with the point of his Sword.