hands, like the galleyslaves in Spain when travelling to the port
where they are to be put on shipboard. The heads of others who had fallen
were borne in triumph before the survivors, some on pikes and halberds,
some in sacks, bearing the names of the slaughtered persons labelled on
the outside. Such were the objects who headed the ghastly procession, who
seemed as effectually doomed to death as if they wore the sanbenitos of
the condemned heretics in an auto-da-fe. [Note: David Hackston of
Rathillet, who was wounded and made prisoner in the skirmish of
Air's-Moss, in which the celebrated Cameron fell, was, on entering
Edinburgh, "by order of the Council, received by the Magistrates at the
Watergate, and set on a horse's bare back with his face to the tail, and
the other three laid on a goad of iron, and carried up the street, Mr
Cameron's head being on a halberd before them."]

Behind them came on the nameless crowd to the number of several hundreds,
some retaining under their misfortunes a sense of confidence in the cause
for which they suffered captivity, and were about to give a still more
bloody testimony; others seemed pale, dispirited, dejected, questioning
in their own minds their prudence in espousing a cause which Providence
seemed to have disowned, and looking about for some avenue through which
they might escape from the consequences of their rashness. Others there
were who seemed incapable of forming an opinion on the subject, or of
entertaining either hope, confidence, or fear, but who, foaming with
thirst and fatigue, stumbled along like over-driven oxen, lost to every
thing but their present sense of wretchedness, and without having any
distinct idea whether they were led to the shambles or to the pasture.
These unfortunate men were guarded on each hand by troopers, and behind
them came the main body of the cavalry, whose military music resounded
back from the high houses on each side of the street, and mingled with
their own songs of jubilee and triumph, and the wild shouts of the
rabble.

Morton felt himself heart-sick while he gazed on the dismal spectacle,
and recognised in the bloody heads, and still more miserable and agonized
features of the living sufferers, faces which had been familiar to him
during the brief insurrection. He sunk down in a chair in a bewildered
and stupified state, from which he was awakened by the voice of Cuddie.

"Lord forgie us, sir!" said the poor fellow, his teeth chatt