In former times England had her Tyburn, to which the devoted victims of
justice were conducted in solemn procession; and in Edinburgh, a large
oblong square, called the Grassmarket, was used for the same purpose.
This place was crowded to suffocation on the day when John Porteous,
captain of the City Guard, was to be hanged, sentenced to death for
firing on the crowd on the occasion of the execution of a popular
smuggler.

The grim appearance of the populace conveyed the impression of men who
had come to glut their sight with triumphant revenge. When the news that
Porteous was respited for six weeks was announced, a roar of rage and
mortification arose, but speedily subsided into stifled mutterings as
the people slowly dispersed.

That night the mob broke into the Tolbooth, the prison, commonly called
the Heart of Midlothian, dragged the wretched Porteous from the chimney
in which he had concealed himself, and carried him off to the
Grassmarket, where, as the leader of the rioters, a tall man dressed in
woman's clothes said he had spilled the blood of so many innocents.

"Let no man hurt him," continued the speaker. "Let him make his peace
with God, if he can; we will not kill both soul and body."

A young minister named Butler, whom the rioters had met and compelled to
come with them, was brought to the prisoner's side, to prepare him for
instant death. With a generous disregard of his own safety, Butler
besought the crowd to consider what they did. But in vain. The unhappy
man was forced to his fate with remorseless rapidity, and Butler,
separated from him by the press, and unnoticed by those who had hitherto