ort, and perceived
that a great multitude was advancing through the mist. They fired their
carbines, and galloped off in different directions to give the alarm.
Some hastened to Weston Zoyland, where the cavalry lay. One trooper
spurred to the encampment of the infantry, and cried out vehemently that
the enemy was at hand. The drums of Dumbarton's regiment beat to arms;
and the men got fast into their ranks. It was time; for Monmouth was
already drawing up his army for action. He ordered Grey to lead the way
with the cavalry, and followed himself at the head of the infantry.
Grey pushed on till his progress was unexpectedly arrested by the Bussex
Rhine. On the opposite side of the ditch the King's foot were hastily
forming in order of battle.

"For whom are you?" called out an officer of the Foot Guards. "For the
King," replied a voice from the ranks of the rebel cavalry. "For which
King?" was then demanded. The answer was a shout of "King Monmouth,"
mingled with the war cry, which forty years before had been inscribed
on the colours of the parliamentary regiments, "God with us." The royal
troops instantly fired such a volley of musketry as sent the rebel horse
flying in all directions. The world agreed to ascribe this ignominious
rout to Grey's pusillanimity. Yet it is by no means clear that Churchill
would have succeeded better at the head of men who had never before
handled arms on horseback, and whose horses were unused, not only to
stand fire, but to obey the rein.

A few minutes after the Duke's horse had dispersed themselves over the
moor, his infantry came up running fast, and guided through the gloom by
the lighted matches of Dumbarton's regiment.

Monmouth was startled by finding that a broad and profound trench lay
between him and the camp which he had hoped to surprise. The insurgents
halted on the edge of the rhine, and fired. Part of the royal infantry
on the opposite bank returned the fire. During three quarters of an
hour the roar of the musketry was incessant. The Somersetshire peasants
behaved themselves as if they had been veteran soldiers, save only that
they levelled their pieces too high.

But now the other divisions of the royal army were in motion. The Life
Guards and Blues came pricking fast from Weston Zoyland, and scattered
in an instant some of Grey's horse, who had attempted to rally. The
fugitives spread a panic among their comrades in the rear, who had
charge of the ammunition. The wag