the stern and iron hearted leaders of the Scottish Reformation; when Knox, "smote so hastily upon her heart, that it made her weep full sore."

This Palace witnessed the scene of her mysterious, and unnatural nuptials with Bothwell, and beneath its roof, she reposed the captive of her subjects, on that eventful night, before she was committed to the Castle of Lochleven, which she only left to be defeated on the Hills of Langside and afterwards in a moment of mistaken confidence, to place herself in the power of Elizabeth, to be from that hour, the victim of one long train of dissimulation and vindictiveness; then in the end to perish, by the cruel and unjustifiable mandate of that

"False woman,

Her kinswoman, yet her foe."

The Palace, and ruined Abbey Church of Holyrood, are situate at the end of the ancient street in Edinburgh, known as the Canongate. The first is a gloomy looking structure, with pinnacled turrets, and a dark exterior, that send a chill to the heart. The existing palace consists of the northwestern towers, (the only remnant of the royal dwelling of Queen Mary,) and the more modern structure erected by Charles II. The palace built by Charles is a quadrangular building, having a square court in the centre. At either extremity is a massive square tower, four stories high, having three circular towers or turrets at its exterior angles, which rise from the ground to the battlements of the main tower, terminating in conical roofs. Ascending a stone stair case from the piazza of the court yard, you enter the Picture Gallery at the first landing, by a door on the right. An hundred portraits of

Kings of Scotland, from the misty times of Fergus I. down to the end of the Stuart dynasty look down upon you from its walls. This chamber is historically interesting from the fact, that it was the ball room, used by the Pretender, during his brief occupation of Holyrood. It was here he gave that celebrated entertainment, which has derived immortality from the pen of the great modern master of Romance, and the first perhaps that had enlivened its deserted precincts for many a long year.

The Young Pretender had that morning made his entrance into the royal palace of his ancestors. He had played the game most royally, in which the stakes were a coffin, or a crown. His daring foot had first pressed the desolate rocks of the Western Islands-and by the attractions of a handsome and youthful person, associated with the winning powers of a most earnest eloquence, he had overcome the scruples of a naturally cautious race: gathering round his standard, as gallant and devoted a band as ever fought in the cause of his family, beneath the banners of Montrose and Dundee—in the words of the old border song,

"Leaving their mountains, to follow Prince Charlie,
Follow thee! follow thee! who wad'na follow thee!

Lang hast thou lo'ed, and trusted us fairly,

Charlie! Charlie! who wad na follow thee,

King of the Highland hearts, bonnie Prince Charlie."

In the very square directly in front of the Palace, Lochiel gathered his gallant Camerons, who had made themselves masters of Edinburgh, at early dawn; and there on horseback, with a drawn sword in her hand, was that brave and enthusiastic woman, Murray of Broughton, distributing with her own fair hands to the crowd, the white

S

ribbon, or cockade, that emblem of devotion, to the cause of Stuart, and which originated the following spirited Scottish song,

66

My love was born in Aberdeen,

The bonniest lad that e'er was seen;

But now he makes our hearts fu' sad,
He's ta'en the field, wi his white cockade.

O! he's a ranting, roving blade;
O! he's a brisk, and bonnie lad;
Betide what may, my heart is glad
To see my lad wi' his white cockade.

I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel,

My rippling kame, and spinning wheel,

To buy my lad, a tartan plaid,

A braidsword and a white cockade.

I'll sell my rokeby, and my tow,

My gude grey mare, and brindled cow,

That every loyal Buchan lad,

May tak' the field, wi' his white cockade."

Very nearly at the same hour, with this gathering in the square, high up upon the mountain slope beyond the walls, and near the classic pool of St. Anthony's Well, stood the young Prince himself looking down for the first time upon the ancient palace of his forefathers, with all its glorious natural surroundings, every foot of which was intimately connected with the pastimes, the sorrows, and the brief triumphs of his strangely unfortunate race. At noon he entered the ancient city, the mob in their mad enthusiasm, pressing forward to kiss his hands, then actually "dimming his very boots with their tears;" and at night, plume and tartan were mingling in the dance, to the merry music of pibroch, and harp on the polished floor of this old Hall. There in that gay and gallant company, might be

discerned the bold devoted Fergus McIvor, the highminded Flora McDonald, and the gentle woman like Rose Bradwardine. A few short days, and on Culloden's fatal field,

"There the broken clans were scattered,

Gaunt as wolves, and famine-eyed,
Hunger gnawing at their vitals,
Hope abandoned, all but pride,
Pride, and that supreme devotion
Which the Southron, never knew,
And the hatred, deeply rankling,
'Gainst the Hanoverian crew.
Chief and vassal, Lord, and yeoman,
There they lay in heaps together,
Smitten by the deadly volley,

Rolled in blood upon the heather."

You pass on by the door of the chamber, that has awakened such reflections to the suite of gloomy apartments, known as Darnley's. There is nothing very remarkable in these chambers, save some hideous-looking portraits of the Hamilton family so celebrated in Scottish history. There is in one of the apartments, a portrait of Charles II., an ill-looking dog, on whose features lust has stamped its impress. Returning through Darnley's apartments, and leaving them by the left hand door of the Audience Chamber, you ascend a narrow, and dark stairway, to enter what historians, poets, and novelists have combined to render the most interesting suite of apartments in Europe-the chambers once occupied by the ill-fated Mary, Queen of Scots. The first is the Presence Chamber, where on all state occasions, Mary had her receptions. The roof is divided into pannelled compartments, adorned with the initials and armorial bearings of royal personages, and the walls are hung with ancient

tapestry, the color of which has been almost obliterated by the uncourtly hand of Time; a few of the embroidered chairs that once graced this chamber still stand against the walls; a large double one is shown, with the initials of Mary, and Darnley worked in, by the Queen's own hands, which once stood upon the raised platform of the throne of Scotland. There is a portrait suspended near the ancient fire-place, said to be of Mary, though it is clearly not her's; but looks in the sharpness of its lines, and with the crisp red hair curled so primly at the temples, more like the portrait of her hateful rival and persecutor Queen Elizabeth. An old high-post bedstead, with its velvet curtains mouldering and moth-eaten, stands in one corner of the room. It was upon this, Charles I., reposed the night after his coronation in Scotland, and the young Pretender, here slept for the last time in the Palace of his ancestors. It was in this chamber, that the stern Reformer Knox, had his insulting interview with Mary, when in her rage, she exclaimed, "never was Prince handled as I am. I have borne with you in all your rigorous manner of speaking, both against myself, and my uncles; yea I have sought your favor by all possible means. I offered unto you presence and audience, and yet it seems I cannot be quit of your unbridled insolence. I vow to God, I shall be revenged." To all this, with unblenching brow, and unshaken front, Knox replied: "most true it is, madame; your Grace and I, have been at divers controversies together. Without the preaching place, madame, I am not master of myself; for I must obey Him, who com. mands me to speak plain, and to flatter no flesh upon earth" and then turning to the gaily dressed ladies, who surrounded her, and fixing his keen grey eyes upon them,