



Produced by Martin Robb







THE LION OF THE NORTH

A Tale of the Times of Gustavus Adolphus,


By G. A. Henty




PREFACE.


MY DEAR LADS,

You are nowadays called upon to acquire so great a mass of learning
and information in the period of life between the ages of twelve and
eighteen that it is not surprising that but little time can be spared
for the study of the history of foreign nations. Most lads are,
therefore, lamentably ignorant of the leading events of even the most
important epochs of Continental history, although, as many of these
events have exercised a marked influence upon the existing state of
affairs in Europe, a knowledge of them is far more useful, and, it
may be said, far more interesting than that of the comparatively petty
affairs of Athens, Sparta, Corinth, and Thebes.

Prominent among such epochs is the Thirty Years' War, which arose from
the determination of the Emperor of Austria to crush out Protestantism
throughout Germany. Since the invasion of the Huns no struggle which
has taken place in Europe has approached this in the obstinacy of the
fighting and the terrible sufferings which the war inflicted upon the
people at large. During these thirty years the population of Germany
decreased by nearly a third, and in some of the states half the towns
and two-thirds of the villages absolutely disappeared.

The story of the Thirty Years' War is too long to be treated in one
volume. Fortunately it divides itself naturally into two parts. The
first begins with the entry of Sweden, under her chivalrous monarch
Gustavus Adolphus, upon the struggle, and terminates with his death and
that of his great rival Wallenstein. This portion of the war has been
treated in the present story. The second period begins at the point when
France assumed the leading part in the struggle, and concluded with the
peace which secured liberty of conscience to the Protestants of Germany.
This period I hope to treat some day in another story, so that you may
have a complete picture of the war. The military events of the present
tale, the battles, sieges, and operations, are all taken from the best
authorities, while for the account of the special doings of Mackay's,
afterwards Munro's Scottish Regiment, I am indebted to Mr. J. Grant's
Life of Sir John Hepburn.

Yours sincerely,

G. A. HENTY




CHAPTER I THE INVITATION


It was late in the afternoon in the spring of the year 1630; the
hilltops of the south of Scotland were covered with masses of cloud, and
a fierce wind swept the driving rain before it with such force that it
was not easy to make way against it. It had been raining for three days
without intermission. Every little mountain burn had become a boiling
torrent, while the rivers had risen above their banks and flooded the
low lands in the valleys.

The shades of evening were closing in, when a lad of some sixteen years
of age stood gazing across the swollen waters of the Nith rushing past
in turbid flood. He scarce seemed conscious of the pouring rain; but
with his lowland bonnet pressed down over his eyes, and his plaid
wrapped tightly round him, he stood on a rising hummock of ground at the
edge of the flood, and looked across the stream.

"If they are not here soon," he said to himself, "they will not get
across the Nith tonight. None but bold riders could do so now; but
by what uncle says, Captain Hume must be that and more. Ah! here they
come."

As he spoke two horsemen rode down the opposite side of the valley and
halted at the water's edge. The prospect was not a pleasant one. The
river was sixty or seventy feet wide, and in the centre the water swept
along in a raging current.

"You cannot cross here," the boy shouted at the top of his voice. "You
must go higher up where the water's deeper."

The wind swept his words away, but his gestures were understood.

"The boy is telling us to go higher up," said one of the horsemen.

"I suppose he is," the other replied; "but here is the ford. You see the
road we have travelled ends here, and I can see it again on the other
side. It is getting dark, and were we to cross higher up we might lose
our way and get bogged; it is years since I was here. What's the boy
going to do now? Show us a place for crossing?"

The lad, on seeing the hesitation of the horsemen, had run along the
bank up the stream, and to their surprise, when he had gone a little
more than a hundred yards he dashed into the water. For a time the water
was shallow, and he waded out until he reached the edge of the regular
bank