of Edinburgh; from thence Mr Guthrie was removed to Dundee, and afterwards back again to Edinburgh, where he was finally brought to trial for high treason, on the 20th of February, 1661; and, notwithstanding an able and ingenious defence, was condemned to death, a result in no small degree owing to the dislike which Middleton bore him for his officiousness in the matter of his excommunication, and which that nobleman had not forgotten.
It is said that Guthrie had been long impressed with the belief that he should die by the hands of the executioner, and many singular circumstances which he himself noted from time to time, and pointed out to his friends, strengthened him in this melancholy belief. Amongst these it is related, that when he came to Edinburgh to sign the solemn league and covenant, the first person he met as he entered at the West Port was the public executioner. On this occasion, struck with the singularity of the circumstance, and looking upon it as another intimation of the fate which awaited him, he openly expressed his conviction, that he would one day suffer for the things contained in that document which he had come to subscribe.
Whilst under sentence of death, Guthrie conducted himself with all the heroism of a martyr. Sincere and enthusiastic in the cause which he had espoused, he did not shrink from the last penalty to which his adherence to it could subject him, but, on the contrary, met it with cheerfulness and magnanimity. On the night before his execution he supped with some friends, and conducted himself throughout the repast as if he had been in his own house. He ate heartily, and after supper asked for cheese, a luxury which he had been long forbidden by his physicians; saying jocularly, that he need not now fear gravel, the complaint for which he had been restricted from it. Soon after supper he retired to bed, and slept soundly till four o'clock in the morning, when he raised himself up and prayed fervently. On the night before, he wrote some letters to his friends, and sealed them with his coat of arms, but while the wax was yet soft, he turned the seal round and round so as to mar the impression, and when asked why he did so, replied, that he had now nothing to do with these vanities. A little before coming out of the tolbooth to proceed to execution, his wife embracing him said, "Now, my heart," her usual way of addressing him, "your time is drawing nigh, and I must take my last farewell of you."—"Ay, you must," he answered, "for henceforth I know no man after the flesh." Before being brought out to suffer, a request was made to the authorities by his friends, to allow him to wear his hat on the way to the scaffold, and also that they would not pinion him until he reached the place ,of execution. Both requests were at first denied; the former absolutely, because, as was alleged, the marquis of Argyle, who had been executed a short while before, had worn his hat, in going to the scaffold, in a manner markedly indicative of defiance and contempt, and which had given much offence. To the latter request, that he might not be pinioned, they gave way so far, on a representation being made that he could not walk without his staff, on account of the rose being in one of his legs, as to allow him so much freedom in his arms as to enable him to make use of that support, but they would not altogether dispense with that fatal preparation. Having ascended the scaffold, he delivered with a calm and serene countenance an impressive address to those around him; justified all for which he was about to suffer, and recommended all who heard him to adhere firmly to the covenant. After hanging for some time, his head was struck off, and placed on the Netherbow Port, where it remained for seven and twenty years, when it was taken down and buried by a Mr Alexander Hamilton at the hazard of his own life. The body, after being beheaded, was carried to the Old Kirk, where it was dressed by a number of ladies who waited its arrival for that purpose; many of whom, be-
