376 Narrative of some Events [ APRIL, 
back to my mother’s side. Some wounded men had been dragged to 
die in that lane, and some boys of the rebels’ side, were mounted on 
horses, and galloping up and down many times across their bodies, 
whilst the only signs of life they shewed were deep groans. But Bar- 
ker, when he heard of this cruelty, put’a stop to it, and allowed them to 
die in peace. 
A Protestant lady, of great respectability, was allowed by Barker to 
take shelter with her children in his house. As a great mark of good 
will towards her, some thin stirabout was made for her early the next 
morning, which was Tuesday. She had noticed us from the house, and 
beckoning to me, with much kindness gave me a plateful of it for our 
children, but, though they tasted, they could not eat, for terror had com- 
pletely deprived them of appetite. 
About nine, I felt such a desire to rejoin my father, and to Pave that 
garden, that I left my mother’s side, and went alone towards the garden 
gate, to see if it were possible. The first person I saw at it was Mar- 
tin’s mother, dressed completely in new and excellent clothes, and in 
particular wearing a remarkably handsome hat. Knowing her poverty, 
I was so much astonished at her appearance, that, forgetting for the 
moment all my anxiety and fear, I asked her where she got the hat ; to 
which she replied sternly, “ Hush! ’tis not for one like you to ask me 
where I got it.” I then said, “Oh! did you see my father ?”—“ I have,” 
answered she; “and he is dead!” 
I forgot what I said or did for some minutes after this, but I found 
Mary Martin had drawn me away from the garden gate, lest, as she said, 
my cries should inform my mother of what had befallen us. I clung to 
her, and intreated her to take me to him, that I might see him once more. 
She at first refused, but at last, to pacify my violence, she consented. 
We went about a quarter of a mile to Barrack-lane, where, lying in the 
midst of eight or ten other bodies, with two pikemen standing looking 
on, I saw, and knew my father. 
He lay on his back, with one hand on his breast, and his knee slightly 
raised, his shirt was steeped in blood, the lower part of his face dis- 
figured with the gashes of the ruffian’s knife, and his mouth filled pur- 
posely with the dict of the street ; beside him lay our large mastiff, who 
had licked all the blood off his face, and who, though he was heard two 
or three nights after howling piteously round our burnt cottage, was 
never again seen by any one. I can now describe what then almost 
killed me to look upon. I felt as if suffocating: I thought, as I looked 
on him, that I could have given my mother, my brother, even my own. 
life, to have brought him back again. I fell on my knees beside him, 
and, whilst kissing his forehead, broke out into loud cries, when one of 
the pikemen gave me such a blow in the side with the handle of his 
pike (cursing me at the same time), that it stretched me breathless for a 
moment beside my father, and would have broken my ribs but for the 
very strong stays which I had on. He was going to repeat the blow, 
but that his comrade levelled his pike, and cried out, “If you dare do 
that again, I'll thrust this through your body! Because the child is 
frightened, are you to ill-treat her?” He then raised me; and I knew 
him to be a man named Bryan, who but the week before had purchased 
some cloth from my father at a fair to which I had accompained him. 
He spoke kindly to me, and led me back to the garden where I had left 
my mother, telling me to keep-silence as to what I had seen, lest she 
should perish with fear and grief. ey, 
