night at Luton. In the morning a simultaneous movement caused us each to

advance. It was early dawn, and the air, impregnated with freshest odour,

seemed in idle mockery to play with our banners, and bore onwards towards

the enemy the music of the bands, the neighings of the horses, and regular

step of the infantry. The first sound of martial instruments that came upon

our undisciplined foe, inspired surprise, not unmingled with dread. It

spoke of other days, of days of concord and order; it was associated with

times when plague was not, and man lived beyond the shadow of imminent

fate. The pause was momentary. Soon we heard their disorderly clamour, the

barbarian shouts, the untimed step of thousands coming on in disarray.

Their troops now came pouring on us from the open country or narrow lanes;

a large extent of unenclosed fields lay between us; we advanced to the

middle of this, and then made a halt: being somewhat on superior ground, we

could discern the space they covered. When their leaders perceived us drawn

out in opposition, they also gave the word to halt, and endeavoured to form

their men into some imitation of military discipline. The first ranks had

muskets; some were mounted, but their arms were such as they had seized

during their advance, their horses those they had taken from the peasantry;

there was no uniformity, and little obedience, but their shouts and wild

gestures showed the untamed spirit that inspired them. Our soldiers

received the word, and advanced to quickest time, but in perfect order:

their uniform dresses, the gleam of their polished arms, their silence, and

looks of sullen hate, were more appalling than the savage clamour of our

innumerous foe. Thus coming nearer and nearer each other, the howls and

shouts of the Irish increased; the English proceeded in obedience to their

officers, until they came near enough to distinguish the faces of their

394

The Last Man