y, and was actually
advancing on London. Mary was at that time staying at Whitehall Palace,
and news came that Wyatt and all his men were going to attack the palace
and carry her off. They really did come, too, and the army spread all
over St. James's Park and all round the old palace--everywhere were
soldiers. At that time there was a great gateway, called the Holbein
Gate, that stood across Whitehall, and in this Queen Mary stayed and
watched the fighting. With all her faults she was very brave, and when
she saw her own guards driven in and dispersed, she showed no sign of
fear. Then a gentleman rushed up to her, and, falling on his knees,
said, 'All is lost,' and begged her to get into a barge on the river and
fly to the Tower, where she would be safer; but Mary refused to go, and
said all was not lost, and by her bravery and her words she so
inspirited the men that they fought again, and succeeded in beating off
Wyatt's men. So Wyatt went on toward the city, and all the way he had to
fight, and at last he was taken prisoner on Ludgate Hill, which is not
far from St. Paul's Cathedral.

Then Mary knew that she was safe again; but she must have passed a
sleepless night and thought a great deal, for she at last made up her
mind she would order Lady Jane Grey and her husband to be beheaded, for
so long as they lived other men would rise, as Wyatt had done, and try
to make Jane Queen.

It was a dreadful thing to do, but we must remember that in those days
executions were not thought so much of as they would be now. In these
days anyone would be horrified to hear that a man's or woman's head was
to be cut off, and even the very worst murderers are only hanged; but in
Mary's day a great many people were beheaded every year. So in the
morning, when Mary rode down to the city to thank her nobles and knights
for fighting so bravely and defending her, she knew that before the day
was ended she would have signed the death-warrant of Lady Jane. When she
came to Temple Bar she stopped. Now, Temple Bar was a great gateway that
stood in the Strand, just where the City of London begins, and on it
there were ugly iron spikes; and sometimes the heads of those who had
been executed were stuck on these spikes, and stayed there until they
rotted away. All the people passing along the street could look up and
see the heads, and sometimes, when the wind was high, a ghastly head
came tumbling down into the street. We cannot think of such th