feel that with his good fortune he had lost his authority. His two nephews, the Lord Gerard, and about twenty other officers, entered his chamber, and, in rude and insulting language, charged him with ingratitude for their services, and undue partiality for the traitor Digby. The king lost the command of his temper, and, with more warmth than he was known to have betrayed on any other occasion, bade them quit his presence for ever. They retired, and the next morning received passports to go where they pleased. But it was now[a] time for the king himself to depart. The enemy's forces multiplied around Newark, and the Scots were advancing to join the blockade. In the dead of the night[b] he stole, with five hundred men, to Belvoir Castle; thence, with the aid of experienced guides, he threaded the numerous posts of the enemy; and on the second day reached, for the last time,[c] the walls of Oxford. Yet if he were there in safety, it was owing to the policy of the parliament, who deemed it more prudent to reduce the counties of Devon and Cornwall, the chief asylum of his adherents. For this purpose Fairfax, with the grand army, sat down before Exeter: Cromwell had long ago swept away the royal garrisons between that city and the metropolis.[1] The reader will have frequently remarked the king's impatience for the arrival of military aid from Ireland. It is now time to notice the intrigue on which he founded his hopes, and the causes which led to his disappointment. All his efforts to conclude a peace with the insurgents had failed through the obstinacy of the ancient Irish, who required as an indispensable [Footnote 1: Clarendon, ii. 719-723. Rushworth, vi. 80-95. Journals, 671, 672.] [Sidenote a: A.D. 1645. Oct. 29.] [Sidenote b: A.D. 1645. Nov. 3.] [Sidenote c: A.D. 1645. Nov. 5.]