im free from the ministers who would fain have thrust their
sermons and reproaches on the dying man.

* * * * *

Soldiers were early under arms on the morning of May 21, for even now
the Parliament greatly dreaded a rescue. With the 'unaltered
countenance' he had borne ever since his capture Montrose heard the
beating of drums and trumpets, and answered calmly the taunt of
Warriston as to his vanity in dressing his hair.

'My head is yet my own,' said Montrose, 'and I will arrange it to my
taste. To-night, when it will be yours, treat it as you please.'

Every roof and window in the High Street and within sight of the city
cross was filled with people as Montrose, clad in scarlet and black,
walked calmly down at three that afternoon. 'Many of his enemies did
acknowledge him to be the bravest subject in the world,' writes one who
beheld him, and he walked up the steps as quietly as if he were taking
his place to see some interesting sight.

They feared him too much to allow him to speak to the crowd, as was the
custom, but he addressed himself to the magistrates and the ministers
who were standing on the platform. Once more he confessed his faith and
his loyalty, and when, in accordance with the sentence, the hangman
suspended the two books round his neck, he said, 'they have given me a
decoration more brilliant than the garter.' Then he mounted the ladder,
and the hangman burst into tears as he gave the last touch.

* * * * *

So died Montrose, and eleven years later the king who had disowned him
bethought him of his fate. In January 1661 the Parliament, which had
been summoned by the restored monarch, Charles II., 'thought fit to
honour Montrose his carcase with a glorious second burial, to compensate
the dishonour of the first.' His limbs, which had been placed over the
gates of the cities made memorable by his victories, remained in state
at Holyrood for four months, and May 11 was fixed to lay them where they
now rest, in the church of St. Giles. Heralds in their many-coloured
robes arranged the procession, and the train-bands occupied the street
to keep off the dense crowds. The magistrates, headed by the provost,
walked two and two in deep mourning--had any of them taken part in that
brutal scene eleven years ago?--and behind them came the barons and the
burgesses. Next followed the dead man's kinsmen bearing his armour, the
order of the garter,