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 winded slowly down the dark mountain’s side, 'these are the unworthy slaves, and bloody executioners, by which the tyrant completes our miseries.'

Hamilton here displayed the hero. His portly figure was seen hastening from rank to rank. He inspired courage into our raw and undisciplined troops. The brave Hackstone, and Hall of Haugh-head, stood at the head of the foot, and re-echoed the sentiments of their Chief. Burley and Cleland had inflamed the minds of the horsemen on the left to a noble enthusiasm. My small troop on the right needed no exhortation; we were a band of brothers, resolved to conquer or fall.

The trump of Clavers sounded aloud note of defiance—the kettle drum mixed his tumultuous roll—they halted—they made a long pause. We could see an officer with four file condubtiugconducting [sic] 14 persons from the ranks to a knoll on their left. I could perceive one in black: it was my friend King, the chaplain of Lord Cardross, who had been taken prisoner by Clavers at Hamilton, 'Let them be shot through the head,' said Clavers in his usual dry way, if they should offer to run away.' We could see him view our position with great care. His officers came around him, We soon learned that he wished to treat with us. He never betrayed symptoms of mercy or of justice, nor offered terms of reconciliation, un-