In prison he devoted most of his time to meditation, receiving his death-warrant with calmness, and anticipating his departure with hope. Six or seven times, upon the last morning of his life (July 21), he engaged in prayer; and, on parting from Lord Cavendish, urged upon that nobleman the importance of personal piety: then, winding up his watch, he remarked--that he had done with time, and was going to eternity. As the mourning coach, which conveyed him to the place of execution, turned the corner by Little Queen Street, he remarked, “I have often turned to the other hand with great comfort (alluding to the proximity of Southampton Square, where he resided), but now I turn to this with greater.” As he saw some persons weeping, and others manifesting disrespect, he appreciated the commiseration of the former, and evinced no resentment at the conduct of the latter. He sang “within himself,” scarcely articulating words, observing, he hoped soon to sing better; and, as he looked upon the dense throng around him, he expressed the hope of soon beholding nobler multitudes. As he entered Lincoln’s Inn Fields, observing it rained, he said to his friends in the coach, “this may do you hurt that are bare-headed;” and as he caught sight of the familiar place he exclaimed, in allusion to his early days, “this has been to me a place of sinning, and God now makes it the place of my punishment.” Having expressed wonder at the crowds assembled, he placed in the Sheriff’s hand a long paper, and declared at the same time, that he had never intended to plot against the King’s life or reign. After praying that God would preserve His Majesty and the Protestant religion, he expressed an earnest wish that all Protestants would love one another, and not by mutual animosities open a way for the re-entrance of Popery. In the paper just mentioned, he avowed his attachment to the Church of England, and expressed a desire that Conformists would be less severe, and that Dissenters would be less scrupulous. He said he had always been ready to venture his life for his country and his religion; and he avowed his sincerity and earnestness in supporting the Bill of Exclusion, as the best means of defending the Crown and the Church: he forgave his enemies, although he thought killing by forms and subtilties of law to be “the worst sort of murder.” When he had knelt down, Tillotson, who with Burnet stood by him on the scaffold, offered intercession on his behalf. The sufferer then unfastened his dress, took off his outer garment, bared his neck, and laid it on the block, without change of countenance. The executioner, to ensure his aim, touched him with the axe, but he did not shrink; and after two strokes Russell’s soul went where vindictive passions could not follow him.[109]