hurch, the swift
gallop of the Cavaliers has reached Chinnor, two miles away, and the
goal of their foray. The compact, strongly-built village is surrounded.
They form a parallel line behind the houses, on each side, leaping
fences and ditches to their posts. They break down the iron chains
stretched nightly across each end of the street, and line it from end to
end. Rupert, Will Legge, and the "forlorn hope," dismounting, rush in
upon the quarters, sparing those alone who surrender.

In five minutes the town is up. The awakened troopers fight as
desperately as their assailants, some on foot, some on horseback. More
and more of Rupert's men rush in; they fight through the straggling
street of the village, from the sign of the Ram at one end to that of
the Crown at the other, and then back again. The citizens join against
the invaders, the 'prentices rush from their attics, hasty barricades
of carts and harrows are formed in the streets, long musket-barrels are
thrust from the windows, dark groups cluster on the roofs, and stones
begin to rattle on the heads below, together with phrases more galling
than stones, hurled down by women, "cursed dogs," "devilish Cavaliers,"
"Papist traitors." In return, the intruders shoot at the windows
indiscriminately, storm the doors, fire the houses; they grow more
furious, and spare nothing; some towns-people retreat within the
church-doors; the doors are beaten in; women barricade them with
wool-packs, and fight over them with muskets, barrel to barrel. Outside,
the troopers ride round and round the town, seizing or slaying all who
escape; within, desperate men still aim from their windows, though the
houses each side are in flames. Melting lead pours down from the blazing
roofs, while the drum still beats and the flag still goes on. It is
struck down presently; tied to a broken pike-staff, it rises again,
while a chaos of armor and plumes, black and orange, blue and red, torn
laces and tossing feathers, powder-stains and blood-stains, fills the
dewy morning with terror, and opens the June Sunday with sin.

Threescore and more of the towns-people are slain, sixscore are led
away at the horses' sides, bound with ropes, to be handed over to
the infantry for keeping. Some of these prisoners, even of the armed
troopers, are so ignorant and unwarlike as yet, that they know not the
meaning of the word "quarter," refusing it when offered, and imploring
"mercy" instead. Others are little chi