had already reduced to order, against these insurgents, summoned a court-martial, which condemned every tenth man to be shot. One, two, three were successively seized, dragged out of the ranks, and shot dead. The fourth was an aged veteran, well known to the officers, a brave old soldier; he asked forgiveness, and was pardoned. The execution ceased, and Cromwell, calling down the remaining mutineers, who had been stationed on the leads of the church, that they might witness the punishment of their comrades, rebuked them for their sin against God and their country, to such good effect that they wept, and, what was more to the purpose, cheerfully obeyed the order to march to Ireland.

he and Fairfax had been honored with a public vote of thanks for their services, a magnificent banquet from the Lord Mayor, and, on leaving the hall, Fairfax was presented with a basin and ewer of pure gold, worth one thousand pounds, and Cromwell with a plate of half that value.

The Lord-Lieutenancy of Ireland, with the command of the English forces, sent to put down the Royalists under Lord Ormonde, was conferred upon Cromwell. Sinister news from Ireland hastened the departure of the Lord-Lieutenant. Ormonde had borne down all before him and left but a remnant of Irish, in the north, faithful to the Parliament.

Cromwell took his departure on the 10th of July, 1649. A large number of his friends met at Whitehall, to take their farewell of him. Cromwell and others, having taken part in earnest religious exhortation, they all joined in prayer, and the meeting closed with the three ministers who were present invoking the blessing of God upon the arms of the departing leader. Cromwell now set out for Bris

tol, on his way to Ireland, and in such state and pomp that it was the talk and wonder of the day. He rode in a coach drawn by six white Flanders mares, followed by a numerous train of carriages containing the great officers of the army. A guard of eighty gentlemen, in rich habits, no one of whom was less than a commander or esquire, and many were colonels, escorted him. So Cromwell magnificently rode out of London, with the drums beating and the trumpets sounding. A newspaper of the day, in its enthusiasm, bursts forth: "And now, have at you, my Lord of Ormonde! you will have men of gallantry to encounter, whom to overcome will be honor sufficient, and to be beaten by them will be no great blemish to your reputation. If you say, 'Cæsar or nothing!' they say, 'A Republic or nothing!'"

Arrived at Bristol, Cromwell lingered there a month, as if fearful to leave his native land in the agonies of a great crisis. The people thronged everywhere to catch a glimpse of the great captain, and welcomed his approach with a burst of enthusiasm. Having at last disembarked his troops, and the threatening aspect of Ormonde, who was approaching Dublin, reminding him that there was no time for further delay, he, having taken farewell of his wife and children, who had accompanied him thus far, availed himself of a favorable wind, and set sail. While Cromwell was in the roads, he was cheered

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with the joyful intelligence of a great success on the part of the Parliamentary forces. Ormonde was hard pressing the city of Dublin with an overwhelming force of twenty thousand men, when the garrison of Dublin, under the command of Col. Michael Jones, consisting of only about five thousand, issued out and gained a great victory over the besiegers. Cromwell, in announcing this glorious result to his son Richard's wife, to whom he writes a letter from on board the ship St. John, which, with anchor weighed and sails unfurling, was just on the start, speaks of the "late great mercy of Ireland," as a manifestation of God's goodness. This letter, as in all those written in the familiar confidence of affection, is full of grateful acknowledgments of the goodness of God, is firm in dependence upon Him, and softened in tone by a sentiment of tender love from a father to his children. The stern Cromwell of the state, the fierce Cromwell of the battle, is the pious Cromwell of the sanctuary, and the loving, tenderly-devoted Cromwell of his home.

On the arrival of the Lord-Lieutenant in Dublin, he was met with great demonstrations of welcome, and as he rode through the crowds which thronged the streets, he rose in his carriage, and taking off his hat, addressed the multitude. He told them that the war against the barbarous and blood-thirsty Irish was for the propagation of Christ's gospel, and that all those who engaged in the good work should find

favor and protection from Parliament, and be rewarded according to their merits. The people responded to the speech with shouts: "We will live and die with you."

Cromwell, ably seconded by his son-in-law, Ireton, led their Ironside troops, small in number, being but nine thousand and all told, but invincible in effect, to victory everywhere throughout Ireland. Town after town was taken, and the raw, undisciplined Irish forced to yield every field, where they ventured battle. Drogheda and Wexford were stormed, and Cromwell, fighting himself in the breach, carried these strongholds, against a spirited resistance. Cork, Kinsale, and other places, opened their gates at the approach of the conqueror. Kilkenny and Clonmel were reduced after much hard fighting, and in the short space of ten months, Cromwell, having subdued Ireland, was ready to return to England.

With the cruel animosity of sectarians, the English army had shown no mercy to the Roman Catholics, but had barbarously cut them to pieces wherever found. "I believe," says Cromwell in one of his dispatches, "we put to the sword the whole number of the defendants." In the same document he "This hath been a marvellous great mercy;" says: and again, where he offers a would-be justification of his avenging hand, he states: "And truly I believe is bitterness will save much effusion of blood, rough the goodness of God."