encouraging his men by voice and example. He by this
time saw that all was over; his men had lost the advantage which
surprise and darkness had given them. They were deserted by the horse
and the ammunition wagons. Lord Churchill had made a new disposition of
the royal infantry. The day was about to break. The event of a
conflict on an open plain by broad sunlight could not be doubtful; yet,
brave as he was, the hope of preserving his life prevailed above all
other considerations. In a few minutes the royal cavalry would
intercept his retreat. He mounted and rode for his life, till he was
joined by Lord Grey and a few other officers; but his brave infantry
still made a gallant stand. They were charged right and left by the
Life Guards and Blues, but the Somersetshire clowns, with their scythes
and butt-ends of their muskets, fought to the last. At length their
powder and ball were spent, and cries were heard of "Ammunition; for
God's sake give us ammunition!" But no ammunition was at hand. The
king's artillery began playing on them, and they could no longer
maintain their ranks against the king's cavalry. The infantry came
pouring across the ditch, but even then the Mendip miners sold their
lives dearly. Three hundred of the royal soldiers had been killed or
wounded; of Monmouth's men more than a thousand lay dead on the moor.
Their leader, it was found, had disappeared, the cavalry had been
dispersed, and the survivors fled across the moor towards Bridgewater.
The king's cavalry, meantime, were sweeping over the plain, cutting down
those who attempted to make a stand, which some of the brave fellows
did, while they captured others, till the whole army which marched out
of Bridgewater the previous evening had been completely dispersed.
Before evening five hundred prisoners had been crowded in the parish
church of Weston Zoyland, many of them badly wounded. The church bells
sent out a peal which must have had very different effects upon the ears
of the victors and of the vanquished. The battle was over, but not the
blood-shedding, for Feversham ordered a number of the prisoners for
execution. Gibbets were erected in all directions, and the fatal Bussex
Tree was long known as the place where numbers were put to death without
the form of a trial.

Among those captured was a fine young officer, an ensign in the Duke's
army, who was celebrated for his extraordinary feats of agility; his
powers were described