. Of course, he was found guilty, and was sentenced to be
beheaded in Lincoln's Inn-fields, not many yards from his own house. When
he had parted from his children on the evening before his death, his wife
still stayed with him until ten o'clock at night; and when their final
separation in this world was over, and he had kissed her many times, he
still sat for a long while in his prison, talking of her goodness.
Hearing the rain fall fast at that time, he calmly said, 'Such a rain to-
morrow will spoil a great show, which is a dull thing on a rainy day.' At
midnight he went to bed, and slept till four; even when his servant
called him, he fell asleep again while his clothes were being made ready.
He rode to the scaffold in his own carriage, attended by two famous
clergymen, TILLOTSON and BURNET, and sang a psalm to himself very softly,
as he went along. He was as quiet and as steady as if he had been going
out for an ordinary ride. After saying that he was surprised to see so
great a crowd, he laid down his head upon the block, as if upon the
pillow of his bed, and had it struck off at the second blow. His noble
wife was busy for him even then; for that true-hearted lady printed and
widely circulated his last words, of which he had given her a copy. They
made the blood of all the honest men in England boil.

The University of Oxford distinguished itself on the very same day by
pretending to believe that the accusation against Lord Russell was true,
and by calling the King, in a written paper, the Breath of their Nostrils
and the Anointed of the Lord. This paper the Parliament afterwards
caused to be burned by the common hangman; which I am sorry for, as I
wish it had been framed and glazed and hung up in some public place, as a
monument of baseness for the scorn of mankind.

Next, came the trial of Algernon Sidney, at which Jeffreys presided, like
a great crimson toad, sweltering and swelling with rage. 'I pray God,
Mr. Sidney,' said this Chief Justice of a merry reign, after passing
sentence, 'to work in you a temper fit to go to the other world, for I
see you are not fit for this.' 'My lord,' said the prisoner, composedly
holding out his arm, 'feel my pulse, and see if I be disordered. I thank
Heaven I never was in better temper than I am now.' Algernon Sidney was
executed on Tower Hill, on the seventh of December, one thousand six
hundred and eighty-three. He died a hero, and died, in his own words,
'For