ments did not strike him so deeply at that crisis of hurry and confusion, as when it recurred to his imagination at the distance of some time. 301 Loud shouts of triumph now echoed over the whole field. The battle was fought and won, and the whole baggage, artillery, and military stores of the regu lar army remained in possession of the victors, Never was a victory more complete Scarce any escaped from the battle, excepting the cavalry who had left it at the very onset, and even these were broken into different parties and scattered all over the country. So far as our tale is concerned, we have only to relate the fate of Balmawhapple, who, mounted on a horse as headstrong and stiff-necked as his ri der, pursued the flight of the dragoons above four miles from the field of battle, when some dozen of the fugitives took heart of rt of grace, turned round, and cleaving his skull with their broad-swords, satisfied the world that the unfortunate gentleman had actually brains, the end of his life thus giving proof of a fact greatly doubted during its progress. His death was lamented by few. Most who knew him agreed in the pithy observation of Ensign Maccombich, that there "was mair tint (lost) at Sherriff-Muir." His friend, Lieutenant Jinker, bent his eloquence only to exculpate his favourite mare from any share in contributing to the catastrophe. "He had tauld the laird a thousand times," he said, "that it was a burning shame to pit a martingale upon the puir thing, when he would ride her wi' a curb of half a yard lang; and that he could na but bring himsel (no to say her) to some mischief, by bringing her down, or otherwise; whereas if he had had a wee bit rinning ring on the snafle, she wad a rein'd as cannily as a cadger's ponie." Such was the elegy of the Laird of Balmawhapple. END OF VOLUME SECOND. |