fleet daily supplied them with provisions, and their good conduct gradually
dispelled the apprehensions of the natives.[1] They found[a] the Scottish
levies posted behind a deep intrenchment, running from Edinburgh to Leith,
fortified with numerous batteries, and flanked by the cannon of the castle
at one extremity, and of the harbour at the other. Cromwell employed all
his art to provoke Leslie to avoid an engagement. It was in vain that for
more than a month the former marched and countermarched; that he threatened
general, and made partial, attacks. Leslie remained fixed within his lines;
or, if he occasionally moved,

[Footnote 1: Whitelock, 465, 466, 468. Perfect Diurnal, No. 324. See the
three declarations: that of the parliament on the marching of the army; of
the army itself, addressed "to all that are saints and partakers of the
faith of God's elect in Scotland;" and, the third, from Cromwell, dated
at Berwick, in the Parliamentary History, xix. 276, 298, 310; King's
Pamphlets, 473.]

[Sidenote a: A.D. 1650. July 28.]

watched the motions of the enemy from the nearest mountains, or interposed
a river or morass between the two armies. The English began to be exhausted
with fatigue; sickness thinned their ranks; the arrival of provisions
depended on the winds and waves; and Cromwell was taught to fear, not the
valour of the enemy, but the prudence of their general.[1]

The reader will already have observed how much at this period the exercises
of religion were mixed up with the concerns of state and even the
operations of war. Both parties equally believed that the result of
the expedition depended on the will of the Almighty, and that it was,
therefore, their duty to propitiate his anger by fasting and humiliation.