of that crew left alive, was not so fortunate.
He was almost killed by a whipping from
Newgate to Tyburn, and, as if that were not
punishment enough, a ferocious barrister of
Gray's Inn gave him a poke in the eye with
his cane, which caused his death; for which
the ferocious barrister was deservedly tried
and executed.

As soon as James was on the throne,
Argyle and Monmouth went from Brussels
to Rotterdam, and attended a meeting of
Scottish exiles held there, to concert
measures for a rising in England. It was agreed
that Argyle should effect a landing in
Scotland, and Monmouth in England, and that
two Englishmen should be sent with Argyle
to be in his confidence, and two Scotchmen
with the Duke of Monmouth.

Argyle was the first to act upon this
contract. But, two of his men being taken
prisoners at the Orkney Islands, the
Government became aware of his intentions, and
was able to act against him with such vigour
as to prevent his raising more than two or
three thousand Highlanders, although he sent
a fiery cross, by trusty messengers, from clan
to clan and from glen to glen, as the custom
then was when those wild people were to be
excited by their chiefs. As he was moving
towards Glasgow with his small force, he was
betrayed by some of his followers, taken, and
carried, with his hands tied behind his back,
to his old prison in Edinburgh Castle. James
ordered him to be executed, on his old shamefully
unjust sentence, within three days, and
appears to have been anxious that his legs
should have been pounded with his old favourite
the boot. However, the boot was not applied;
he was simply beheaded, and his head was
set upon the top of Edinburgh Jail. One of
those Englishmen who had been assigned to
him was that old soldier Rumbold, the master
of the Rye House. He was sorely wounded,
and within a week after Argyle had suffered
with great courage, was brought up for trial,
lest he should die and disappoint the King.
He, too, was executed, after defending himself
with great spirit, and saying that he did not
believe that God had made the greater part
of mankind to carry saddles on their backs
and bridles in their mouths, and to be ridden
by a few, booted and spurred for the purpose
—in which I thoroughly agree with Rumbold.

The Duke of Monmouth, partly through
being detained and partly through idling his
time away, was five or six weeks behind his
friend when he landed at Lyme, in Dorset,
having at his right hand an unlucky nobleman
called LORD GREY OF WERK, who of
himself would have ruined a far more
promising expedition. He immediately set up
his standard in the market-place, and
proclaimed the King a tyrant, and a Popish
usurper, and I know not what else; charging
him, not only with what he had done, which
was bad enough, but with what neither he
nor anybody else had done, such as setting
fire to London, and poisoning the late King.
Raising some four thousand men by these
means, he marched on to Taunton, where
there were many Protestant dissenters who
were strongly opposed to the Catholics. Here,
both the rich and poor turned out to receive
him, ladies waved a welcome to him from all
the windows as he passed along the streets,
flowers were strewn in his way, and every
compliment and honour that could be devised
was showered upon him. Among the rest,
twenty young ladies came forward, in their
best clothes and in their brightest beauty,
and gave him a Bible ornamented with their
own fair hands, together with other presents.

Encouraged by this homage, he proclaimed
himself King, and went on to Bridgewater.
But, here the Government troops, under the
EARL OF FEVERSHAM, were close at hand; and
he was so dispirited at finding that he
made but few powerful friends after all,
that it was a question whether he should
disband his army and endeavour to escape.
It was resolved, at the instance of that
unlucky Lord Grey, to make a night attack on
the King's army, as it lay encamped on the
edge of a morass called Sedgemoor. The
horsemen were commanded by the same
unlucky lord, who was not a brave man. He
gave up the battle almost at the first
obstacle—which was a deep drain; and
although the poor countrymen, who had
turned out for Monmouth, fought bravely
with scythes, poles, pitchforks, and such poor
weapons as they had, they were soon dispersed
by the trained soldiers, and fled in all directions.
When the Duke of Monmouth himself
fled, was not known in the confusion; but the
unlucky lord was taken early next day, and
then another of the party was taken, who
confessed that he had parted from the Duke
only four hours before. Strict search being
made, he was found disguised as a peasant,
hidden in a ditch under fern and nettles, with
a few peas in his pocket which he had
gathered in the fields to eat. The only other
articles he had upon him were a few papers
and little books; one of the latter being a
strange jumble, in his own writing, of charms,
songs, recipes, and prayers. He was
completely broken. He wrote a miserable letter
to the King, beseeching and entreating to
be allowed to see him. When he was taken
to London, and conveyed bound into the
King's presence, he crawled to him on his
knees, and made a most degrading exhibition.
As James never forgave or relented towards
any body, he was not likely to soften towards
the issuer of the Lyme proclamation, so he
told the suppliant to prepare for death.

On the fifteenth of July, one thousand six
hundred and eighty-five, this unfortunate
favourite of the people was brought out to
die on Tower Hill. The crowd was immense,
and the tops of all the houses were covered
with gazers. He had seen his wife, the
daughter of the Duke of Buccleuch, in the