"To be sure—having a paper war with the Kirk and David Leslie. It was little to Cromwell’s liking, and no more to David Leslie’s; both of them would rather defiance of battle than Declarations from the General Assembly. They came to nothing, and as the weather was bad and our provisions short, and our men falling sick beyond imagination, we retreated to Dunbar to fortify and recruit. Then the cunning Scots got behind us and blocked up our way. We were in a bad case, Martha, between Leslie and the black North Sea—in a trap, and no less. For the first time our good Cromwell faced defeat, yes, annihilation. Did he lose heart? Not a bit of it. He sent word south to get men ready to meet Leslie, whatever became of us; and then he watched and waited and prayed. Such prayer! Martha. I saw him lifting up his sword to heaven—I heard him speaking to God—pressing forward and upward—bent on prevailing—taking heaven by assault. About three o’clock on the morning of the battle I went to him. It was yet dark, but the men were at arms, and Cromwell was going from troop to troop encouraging them. I said to him, ’Brother Oliver, you have got an answer?’ And he smiled joyfully and said: "’It is in my heart, John. When the devil had said all he had to say, then God spoke. Indeed I have great consolations. I know, and am sure, that because of our weakness, because of our strait, the Lord will deliver us. But tell the men that whoever has a heart for prayer, must pray now; and then quit themselves like men—there is ONE watching and helping them.’ "You women would not understand the setting of the battle. It is enough that it began at four in the morning, and that by nine o’clock there was no longer a Scotch army—three thousand of it were slain in the battle, many more killed in pursuit. We had all their baggage and artillery, besides fifteen thousand stand of arms and two hundred colours to hang up in Westminster Hall—and not twenty Englishmen killed. The Scots came forward shouting, ’_The Covenant! The Covenant!_’ and Cromwell thundered back, ’THE LORD OF HOSTS!’ His voice seemed to fill the field. It was heard above the clash of the swords, and the shouting of the captains—and it was caught by thousands of other voices—above the bellowing of the cannon. It was an invocation, it was a shout of triumph, and indeed THE LORD OF HOSTS was above _The Covenant_.’" "Oh, if I could have seen Cromwell at that onset! just for a moment!" exclaimed Jane.