"No, no, Van Noost," replied Smeaton. "As stuffed men cannot fire muskets, General Wills would not long be deceived. Your idea regarding the defence of Ribble Bridge, and your suggestion to seize the two fords, are both very good, and I will mention them to General Forster as coming from you; but spare me the straw Highlanders. And now, my good friend, let me urge you most strongly to take your departure from this place. Indeed I was in hopes you were gone long ago. Depend upon it, Van Noost, all who remain here are destined either to die in Preston or to be made prisoners. Had we a man of experience and military skill to command us, we might fight successfully, or we might retreat successfully; but, as it is, there is no hope of either. You are not a fighting man, Van Noost; you can gain no glory here; and, if you will take my advice, you will not delay a moment, but ride out of the town as long as the way is clear. And now, farewell, my good friend. I can stay no longer; for I must go to ascertain what is the exact truth of the reports which have reached me." As he spoke, he shook his companion kindly by the hand; and poor Van Noost, with drooping head, and tears in his eyes, walked down with him to the door of the house. The young nobleman took his way along the street towards the Mitre Inn, observing the faces of all the persons he met. The streets were very full; for the news of General Wills's approach had spread rapidly; and Highland clansmen and night-riding borderers, Lancashire Roman Catholics, and Northumbrian gentlemen, were all hurrying out to gain farther intelligence of the enemy, or to ascertain the plans of their own leaders. Those whom Smeaton actually met, were generally of the inferior class--the common men as they were called; and he remarked an expression of dogged resolution in their countenances from which he argued well. I mean to say he inferred that their resistance would be obstinate and vigorous, if not successful: so that perhaps good terms might be made, even if a victory could not be won. On entering the Mitre Inn, however, he found a number of gentlemen in the passage, and many more in a front room on the ground floor, who were waiting to hear the result of deliberations which were going on in an upper chamber. Amongst these he perceived anything but the same looks which he had remarked in the men of inferior station. There was an appearance of discouragement, of doubt, in some instances of apprehension, which was very painful to witness; and the only one who seemed perfectly at his ease was the Earl of Wintoun, who now took no part in the councils of General Forster. The silence amongst such a multitude of persons was very remarkable; few spoke at all, and those who did speak raised not their voice above a whisper. The Earl of Wintoun himself sat on an old mahogany stool, playing with his sword, which he held between his knees, and humming a Scotch air with the most perfect appearance of indifference.