is so proverbial, became estranged from each other; and even kinsmen, committed upon each other the most cruel outrages. The sober and loyal part of the nation saw no other relief than in their weakness,

Pop insiste

and fancying that a woman's gentle hand might stay the the arm of violence, were anxious for Mary's return. The deputation was accordingly despatched, to entreat her compassion on her suffering people. It on mor was chiefly at the instance of her uncles that she gave her consent. At first she would not listen to the

Power request, and, with tears in her eyes, besought them of le

to consider her youth and inexperience. To the

tender appeals of a female heart, the stern old primates were wholly insensible. Political life had destroyed every sympathetic feeling, and they knew nothing of the ingenuousness of youth, which is at once its beauty and its grace. Overcome by their reasons of interest, and their habitual confidence in their judgment, she made her acceptance public.

But still she lingered in her purpose, and shrank from the evil, which, in her presentiment, seemed to hang over her. How full of nature is this part of Mary's life, and how expressive of the innocence of her intentions, was this shrinking back from the offer made her at the early age of nineteen, when a crown

must, in her own experience, have been the talisman of joy. Suspicion had not yet blasted her young hopes. Elizabeth of England, however, determined to interrupt her voyage; and a large English fleet was observed cruising in the Channel. Mary demanded, by her ambassador D'Oisel, a pledge of safe conduct. This appeal to her honor and generosity, Elizabeth had not the grace to acknowledge. It was unnoticed, and has left a stigma upon the character of the British princess, which all her glories cannot hide. When the intelligence arrived, Mary could not conceal her indignation. Clearing her room of her attendants, she addressed Throgmorton, the English Envoy, in these memorable words: How weak I may prove, or how far a woman's frailty may transport me, I cannot tell. However, I am resolved not to have so many witnesses of my infirmity, as your mistress had at her audience of my ambassador. Nothing disturbs me so much, as having asked, with such importunity, a favor it was no consequence for me to obtain. I can, with God's leave, return to mine own country, without her permission, as I came to France in spite of her brother Edward. Neither want I friends, able and willing to conduct me home, as they have brought me hither, though I was desi

rous to make an experiment of your mistress' friendship.'

She embarked, and her galley left the French coast. In the bustle of embarkation, in the variety of a sea voyage, and in the attentions of a suite every way fitted to her rank, she had at first little time for reflection. She was attended by her uncles, and many distinguished French courtiers.

Soon becoming familiar, this variety no longer amused her; and the whole strength of her memory and her affections rose up and overcame her. This sudden burst of grief touched all around her with compassion. She seemed as if weighed down with a sense of coming ill, and an anticipation of her future misfortunes. She did not hesitate to mingle her tears with those of her attendants, kept her eyes constantly towards the shore, and never ceased watching it, till it was no longer to be seen. She wept, and would not be comforted. Though night came, she remained on deck, in hopes of catching another glimpse of her beloved France.' She refused to retire to her cabin, made the deck her couch, and would taste nothing that was offered her. Wrapping herself in a sea cloak, she waited impatiently for the

return of day.

Fortune, (and it was her last kindness to Mary,) seemed willing to soothe her. The wind died away, and the tide carried the vessel back within sight of land. And oh! how it rejoiced her heart, when she felt that she was not quite gone. Farewell, France,' she exclaimed, Farewell, beloved country, which I shall never more behold. Farewell, happy land, which, alas! I shall visit no more.' In this manner she continued to speak, till the land breeze which the morning brought with it, carried the fleet to sea. Under cover of a thick fog, they escaped the English cruisers, and came safe to anchor in the harbor of Leith. Mary was delighted with the first view of her dominions; she landed in the gayest mood, and could not imagine, amidst scenery so beautiful, any other than a loyal and generous people.

But here her mortifications commenced. Arriving sooner than was expected, she found no preparations to receive her, and even then she was too penetrating not to discover the wretched poverty of her escort to Holyrood. The change from splendid equipage, knights richly dressed, and the showy appearance of the French household troops, to a few naked highlandmen, the shrill and wild notes of the bagpipe, and the threadbare cloaks of her Scotch nobility, was

too striking to escape her notice. She was humbled, but her discretion and amiable manner never left her; she was received with universal joy.

She was then in the full bloom of youth and beauty, and while her personal accomplishments gained her universal admiration, her cultivated understanding won universal esteem. She was mistress of many languages; and excelled in all the accomplishments of her sex. Her affability, which never impaired her dignity, was completely irresistible. Buchanan, her most violent enemy, could not but acknowledge the great fascination of her 'merrie luikis and gentill countenance.'

Her administration was at first popular, and her measures indicated great abilities. But with a discontented and fanatic people, slight causes were sufficient to produce rebellion. Fierce and uncontrollable in their own religious faith, they could make no allowance for that in which the hapless Mary had been educated. Perplexity followed perplexity, like the waves of the sea, and the tempests which broke upon her little bark, made fearful inroads upon her hopes, and her good fame. How desolate was her situation, and how pitiable her destiny! No wonder that she clung to those who dared to espouse her