his disciples stood round. They fought for relics which the authorities were determined they should not have, so that a young man having dipped his handkerchief in the blood was forthwith arrested. In the confusion some one cut off a finger and conveyed it away. Some one else offered twenty pounds for a finger-joint, but the hangman dared not let it go. The fevered imagination of Campion’s adorers saw wondrous signs. Some pause in the flow of the Thames was noted on that day, and was ascribed thereto. The river Awhile astonished stood To count the drops of Campion’s sacred blood. Campion himself had long a presentiment of his fate, which, considering the desperate nature of his mission, was not wonderful; and when occasion took him past the Triple Tree he was moved to uncover his head. Southwell, the “sweet singer” of the Catholic reaction, told the end of his friend in a little work printed at Douay, but in English, and of course for English circulation; and in 1595 Southwell followed his brother priest. His followers noted that, when his heart was torn out, “it leaped from the dissector’s hand and, by its thrilling, seemed to repel the flames.” A strange legend--not quite baseless, Mr. Gardner thinks--shows the effect of such scenes on the Catholic mind. Henrietta Maria, Charles I.’s queen, walked barefoot to Tyburn, as to a shrine, at dead of night, and did penance under the gallows for the sins of her adopted country. A felon of a very different order was Mrs. Turner, who suffered (November 14, 1615) for complicity in Sir Thomas Overbury’s murder. She had invented yellow starch, and my Lord Coke with a fine sense of the picturesque ordained her to hang “in her yellow Tinny Ruff and Cuff.” She dressed the part gallantly; “her face was highly rouged, and she wore a cobweb lawn ruff, yellow starched.” The Hangman had also yellow bands and cuffs, he tied her hands with a black silk ribbon herself had provided, as well as a black veil for her face. Being turned off, she seemed to die quietly. But yellow starch went hopelessly out of fashion! After the Restoration, the bodies of Cromwell, Ireton, and Bradshaw were dug up at Westminster, removed at night to the Red Lion Inn, Holborn, drawn next morning (January 30, 1661), the anniversary of Charles’s death, to Tyburn, and there hanged in their shrouds on the three wooden posts of the gallows. At nightfall they were taken down and beheaded; the bodies being there buried, whilst the heads adorned Westminster Hall. Noll had his picturesque historians before Carlyle. A wild tale arose that his original funeral at the Abbey had been but a mock ceremonial; for his body, according to his own instructions, had been secretly removed to Naseby, and buried at nightfall on the scene of that victory. Even if we disregard this legend, the subsequent adventures of Cromwell’s head have been a matter of as much concern to antiquaries as ever the Royal Martyr’s was to Mr. Dick.