Brutus was overwhelmed with grief at the death of his colleague; he was also oppressed by it with a double burden of responsibility and care, since now the whole conduct of affairs devolved upon him alone.  He found himself surrounded with difficulties which became more and more embarrassing every day.  At length he was compelled to fight a second battle.  The details of the contest itself we can not give, but the result of it was, that, notwithstanding the most unparalleled and desperate exertions made by Brutus to keep his men to the work, and to maintain his ground, his troops were borne down and overwhelmed by the irresistible onsets of his enemies, and his cause was irretrievably and hopelessly ruined.

When Brutus found that all was lost, he allowed himself to be conducted off the field by a small body of guards, who, in their retreat, broke through the ranks of the enemy on a side where they saw that they should meet with the least resistance.  They were, however, pursued by a squadron of horse, the horsemen being eager to make Brutus a prisoner.  In this emergency, one of Brutus’s friends, named Lucilius, conceived the design of pretending to be Brutus, and, as such, surrendering himself a prisoner.  This plan he carried into effect.  When the troop came up, he called out for quarter, said that he was Brutus, and begged them to spare his life, and to take him to Antony.  The men did so, rejoiced at having, as they imagined, secured so invaluable a prize.

In the mean time, the real Brutus pressed on to make his escape.  He crossed a brook which came in his way, and entered into a little dell, which promised to afford a hiding-place, since it was encumbered with precipitous rocks and shaded with trees.  A few friends and officers accompanied Brutus in his flight.  Night soon came on, and he lay down in a little recess under a shelving rock, exhausted with fatigue and suffering.  Then, raising his eyes to heaven, he imprecated, in lines quoted from a Greek poet, the just judgment of God upon the foes who were at that hour triumphing in what he considered the ruin of his country.

He then, in his anguish and despair, enumerated by name the several friends and companions whom he had seen fall that day in battle, mourning the loss of each with bitter grief.  In the mean time, night was coming on, and the party, concealed thus in the wild dell, were destitute and unsheltered.  Hungry and thirsty, and spent with fatigue as they were, there seemed to be no prospect for them of either rest or refreshment.  Finally they sent one of their number to steal softly back to the rivulet which they had crossed in their retreat, to bring them some water.  The soldier took his helmet to bring the water in for want of any other vessel.  While Brutus was drinking the water which they brought, a noise was heard in the opposite direction.  Two of the officers were sent to ascertain the cause.  They came back soon, reporting that there was a party of the enemy in that