"Well, sire, I think that by taking things from the
beginning I shall have a better chance of touching the heart
of your majesty."

"Speak on, my brother -- speak on."

"You know, sire, that being called in 1650 to Edinburgh,
during Cromwell's expedition into Ireland, I was crowned at
Scone. A year after, wounded in one of the provinces he had
usurped, Cromwell returned upon us. To meet him was my
object; to leave Scotland was my wish."

"And yet," interrupted the young king, "Scotland is almost
your native country, is it not, my brother?"

"Yes; but the Scots were cruel compatriots for me, sire;
they had forced me to forsake the religion of my fathers;
they had hung Lord Montrose, the most devoted of my
servants, because he was not a Covenanter; and as the poor
martyr, to whom they had offered a favor when dying, had
asked that his body might be cut into as many pieces as
there are cities in Scotland, in order that evidence of his
fidelity might be met with everywhere, I could not leave one
city, or go into another, without passing under some
fragments of a body which had acted, fought, and breathed
for me.

"By a bold, almost desperate march, I passed through
Cromwell's army, and entered England. The Protector set out