He continued all night under arms, wrapped up in his cloak, and sheltered under a rick of barley which happened to be in the field. About three in the morning he called his domestic servants to him, of whom there were four in waiting. He dismissed three of them with most affectionate Christian advice, and such solemn charges relative to the performance of their duty, and care of their souls, as seemed plainly to intimate that he apprehended, at least very probably, he was taking his last farewell of them. There is great reason to believe that he spent the little remainder of time, which could not be much above an hour, in those devout exercises of soul, which had so long been habitual to him. The army was alarmed at break of day by a noise of the rebels’ approach, and the attack was made before sunrise. As soon as the enemy came within gun-shot, they commenced a furious fire; and the dragoons, which constituted the left wing, immediately fled. The Colonel, at the beginning of the attack, which in the whole lasted but a few minutes, received a bullet in his left breast, which made him give a sudden spring in his saddle; upon which his servant, who had led the horse, would have persuaded him to retreat; but he said it was only a wound in the flesh, and fought on, though he presently received a shot in the right thigh. The Colonel was, for a few moments, supported by his men, and particularly about fifteen dragoons, who stood by him to the last. But after a faint fire, the regiment in general was seized with a panic; and though the Colonel and some gallant officers did what they could to rally them once or twice, they at last took a precipitate flight. Just in the moment when Colonel Gardiner seemed to be making a pause, to deliberate what duty required him to do in such a circumstance, he saw a party of the foot who were then bravely fighting near him, but had no officer to head them; upon which he rode up to them immediately, and cried out aloud, “Fire on, my lads, and fear nothing.” But just as the words were out of his mouth, a Highlander advanced to him with a scythe fastened to a long pole, with which he gave him such a deep wound on his right arm, that his sword dropped out of his hand; and at the same time, several others coming about him while he was thus dreadfully entangled with that cruel weapon, he was dragged from off his horse. The moment he fell another Highlander gave him a stroke, either with a broadsword, or a Lochaber axe, on the head, which was the mortal blow. All that his faithful attendant saw further at this time was, that as his hat was falling off, he took it in his left hand, and waved it as a signal to him to retreat, adding, (which were the last words he ever heard him speak,) “Take care of yourself:” upon which the servant immediately fled to a mill, at the distance of about two miles from the spot on which the Colonel fell; where he changed his dress, and, disguised like a miller’s