have said that he ought to wear, or that he
would wear, a crown there—and was found
guilty as a robber, a murderer, and a traitor.
What they called a robber (he said to those
who tried him) he was, because he had taken
spoil from the King's men. What they called
a murderer, he was, because he had slain an
insolent Englishman. What they called a
traitor, he was not, for he had never sworn
allegiance to the King, and had ever scorned to
do it. He was dragged at the tails of horses
to West Smithfield, and there hanged on a
high gallows, torn open before he was dead,
beheaded, and quartered. His head was set
upon a pole on London Bridge, his right arm
was sent to Newcastle, his left arm to
Berwick, his legs to Perth and Aberdeen. But
if King Edward had had his body cut into
inches, and had sent every separate inch into
a, separate town, he could not have dispersed
it half so far and wide as his fame. Wallace
will be remembered in songs and stories,
while there are songs and stories in the
English tongue, and Scotland will hold him
dear while her lakes and mountains last.

Released from this dreaded enemy, the
King made a fairer plan of Government for
Scotland, divided the offices of honor among
Scottish gentlemen and English gentlemen,
forgave past offences, and thought, in his old
age, that his work was done. But he
deceived himself. Comyn and Bruce conspired,
and made an appointment to meet at
Dumfries, in the church of the Minorites. There
is a story that Comyn was false to Bruce,
and had informed against him to the King;
that Bruce was warned of his danger and
the necessity of flight, by receiving, one night
as he sat at supper, from his friend the Earl
of Gloucester, twelve pennies and a pair of
spurs; that as he was riding angrily to keep
his appointment (through a snow-storm, with
his horse's shoes reversed that he might not
be tracked) he met an evil-looking serving
man, a messenger of Comyn, whom he killed,
and concealed in whose dress he found letters
that proved Comyn's treachery. However this
may be, they were likely enough to quarrel in
any case, being hot-headed rivals; and,
whatever they quarrelled about, they certainly did
quarrel in the church where they met, and
Bruce drew his dagger and stabbed Comyn,
who fell upon the pavement. When Bruce
came out, pale and disturbed, the friends who
were waiting for him, asked what was the
matter? " I think I have killed Comyn," said
he. " You only think so? " returned one of
them; " I will make sure! " and going into
the church, and finding him alive, stabbed
him again and again. Knowing that the King
would never forgive this new deed of violence,
the party then declared Bruce King of
Scotland; got him crowned at Scone—without
the chair; and set up the rebellious standard
once again.

When the King heard of it he kindled
with fiercer anger than he had ever shown yet.
He caused the Prince of Wales and two
hundred and seventy of the young nobility to be
knighted—the trees in the Temple Gardens
were cut down to make room for their tents, and
they watched their armour all night, according
to the old usage: some in the Temple
Church: some in Westminster Abbey—and
at the public Feast which then took place, he
swore, by Heaven and by two swans covered
with gold network which his minstrels placed
upon the table, that he would avenge the
death of Comyn, and would punish the false
Bruce. And before all the company, he
charged the Prince his son, in case that he
should die before accomplishing this vow, not
to bury him until it was fulfilled. Next
morning the Prince and the rest of the young
Knights rode away to the Border country to
join the English army; and the King, now
weak and sick, followed in a horse-litter.

Bruce, after losing a battle and undergoing
many dangers and much misery, fled to Ireland,
where he lay concealed through the winter.
That winter, Edward passed in hunting down
and executing Bruce's relations and adherents,
sparing neither youth nor age, and showing
no touch of pity or sign of mercy. In the
following spring, Bruce re-appeared and gained
some victories. In these frays, both sides were
grievously cruel. For instance—Bruce's two
brothers, being taken captive desperately
wounded, were ordered by the King to
instant execution. Bruce's friend Sir John
Douglas, taking his own Castle of Douglas
out of the hands of an English Lord, roasted
the dead bodies of the slaughtered garrison in
a great fire made of every moveable within
it; which dreadful cookery his men called
the Douglas Larder. Bruce, still successful,
however, drove the Earl of Pembroke and the
Earl of Gloucester into the Castle of Ayr and
laid siege to it.

The King, who had been laid up all the
winter, but had directed the army from his
sick-bed, now advanced to Carlisle, and there,
causing the litter in which he had travelled
to be placed in the Cathedral as an offering
to Heaven, mounted his horse once more, and
for the last time. He was now sixty-nine
years old, and had reigned thirty-five years.
He was so ill, that in four days he could go
no more than six miles; still, even at that
pace, he went on and resolutely kept his face
towards the Border. At length, he lay down
at the village of Burgh-upon-Sands; and
there, telling those around him to impress
upon the Prince that he was to remember
his father's vow, and was never to rest until
he had thoroughly subdued Scotland, he
yielded up his last breath.

On the 22nd of March will be published, neatly bound in Cloth,
Price 5s. 6d.,
THE FOURTH VOLUME
OF
HOUSEHOLD WORDS