duced secretly to sign a deed, by which she conveyed to the King of France her claims to the throne of England as well as Scotland, in case she died without leaving children. This document has been lately published. Her union with France could only be supported by discouraging the Reformation in Scotland, and persecuting the reformers in that country. At this juncture, Elizabeth succeeded to the throne of England, when an intention directly to interfere with her, was manifested by the assumption of her regal title and arms by Mary and her husband, as already mentioned. They had not been assumed during the preceding reign, therefore it was plain that the insignia were not merely borne as indicating a distant claim to the succession, but being taken immediately upon the death of Mary of England, they evidently were meant to imply that the bearers had a better right than that possessed by Elizabeth. All who acknowledged the papal supremacy necessarily took this view. It is worse than idle to speak of the contest between Mary Stuart and Elizabeth, as many do, assigning the cause to be petty female jealousies. alone the designs of France against England could be efficiently promoted. The French commander caused Leith to be fortified, which excited the public displeasure. The populace destroyed some monastic establishments, while the lords assembled at Stirling, and took measures that the kingdom should not be reduced to a mere province of France, in which the Reformation could be rigidly suppressed. The lords then called a parliament, which met at Edinburgh, and deposed the regent; but Knox urged that her misconduct should not operate against the allegiance they owed to Mary as their sovereign. They also denounced the French as enemies to their country. Thus hostilities were decidedly begun in Scotland, and it was evident that the result would affect England. If the French were successful, England would be attacked, the pretensions of Mary and Francis to the English throne having been distinctly avowed. Under these circumstances, Elizabeth was obliged to take a part. She assisted the Scottish Protestants with some supplies, but not till the French were on the point of prevailing. At this juncture, the English fleet entered the Firth of Forth, and stopped the advance of the French army. It was plain that Elizabeth had delayed this interposition till the last moment; no desire but that of preserving her own kingdom influenced her. She expressly stipulated with the Scottish lords that they should maintain their allegiance to Mary, only seeking to be freed from French counsellors. There is no doubt that Eli The English armorial bearings were openly displayed at a festival in Paris, when the king, having engaged in a tilting-match, was mortally wounded by the shivers of a lance, by Montgomery, the captain of the Scotch guard. He died July 10, and was succeeded by the husband of Mary, Francis II. The deceased, Henry II., who was thus unexpectedly called to his account, had lately engaged with Philip and the Pope in extensive designs to suppress the Reforma-zabeth interfered constantly with the aftion, and had just passed a decree, ordering all the Lutherans in his own dominions to be put to death. A few days before the death of Henry, he had ordered a body of troops to be sent to Scotland, where the queen regent was already at issue with the chief nobility. She required absolute submission to the measures directed by France, and the English ambassador had learned it was intended to put the leading nobles to death. It was evident that the Scottish nobility and gentry would not be left to themselves to settle the differences which had arisen among them about religion; for these troops were despatched immediately after the accession of Francis. The Reformation in Scotland was to be crushed by foreign interference; thereby fairs of Scotland. This is represented by Popish historians as unwarrantable, and designed to foment civil wars in that kingdom: it was defended by Cecil, on the ground that such interference was necessary to avert danger from his country and his sovereign. He declared that he thought it lawful to use the same means of defence which the adversary used in offence. Here, as in many other instances, we must regret that the state policy even of the most upright rulers, departs from the plain and simple declarations of Christianity. But it must be allowed that France was making great use of Scotland to forward political designs against England, before the latter took part in the Scottish civil dissensions, as the only effectual way to meet the adversary. A plea of right to inter- | fere in the affairs of Scotland, was advanced on the ground of feudal superiority over that kingdom; but such claims can only be regarded as pretexts, however plausible they might have sounded at the time when they were considered valid. And if subjects ever have a right to appeal to foreign powers, or if foreign powers ever are justified in interfering with other nations, for defending themselves, the Protestants of Scotland, and the English queen, were fully justified in their union at this period. At this time, the French threatened to invade the south of England, but it was plain that the main contest between the two countries would be in Scotland. English troops were sent to assist in compelling the French army to return home. Philip interposed, admitting that the object of Elizabeth was "to have her realm in safety," but urged that her troops should be withdrawn from Scotland. Elizabeth expressed her willingness to do this, if the French troops were withdrawn, whose presence rendered her interference necessary. Leith was besieged, but the French garrison did not surrender till July 6, 1560; terms of peace were then agreed upon. The principal clauses were, that the French soldiers should leave Scotland, and that the fortifications they had erected should be demolished; a council to exercise the government in her absence was to be chosen by Queen Mary and the states; all public offices should be filled by Scotsmen; Elizabeth's right to the throne of England should be recognized, and the royal arms and title of that country were no longer to be borne by Mary. Cecil, who was then at Edinburgh, with great difficulty obtained the consent of the French envoy to the latter article. The English troops then returned home; the Scottish parliament met, and established the Reformation. But Mary and Francis refused to ratify the treaty. The designs of the Papists against England were not laid aside. The importance which the French government attached to keeping an armed force in Scotland, sufficient to control the kingdom, was shown by a suggestion made to Elizabeth by the French envoy at her court, that Calais might be restored at once to England, if she would withdraw her forces then attacking Leith. Camden states, that "she answered flatly, that she little esteemed Calais, a poor fishing town, in comparison with the safety and security of all Britain.” That the designs of France were directed to the English throne, and that the possession of Scotland was regarded as a means thereto, manifestly appears from the refusal of Francis and Mary to ratify the treaty of Edinburgh. Another change soon followed, which weakened the French power over Scotland, and stayed the designs against England. Francis 11. died in December, 1560, leaving Mary Stuart a widow, without children. He was succeeded by his younger brother, Charles IX.; they both were under the control of the bigoted princes of Guise, whose designs against the French Protestants were retarded by this change. These plots had proceeded so far that the King of Navarre, the father of Henry IV., and his brother the Prince of Condé, were to have been put to death in a few days, but the queenmother, Catherine de Medicis, needed the support of Navarre in consequence of the death of Francis, and caused him to be released. She was appointed regent, and for a short time supported the reformed religion against the Princes of Guise; but she was in her heart a bigoted Papist, as her conduct soon afterwards plainly showed. Mary Stuart felt this change bitterly. Naturally of a lively disposition, she had been brought up in the court of France, from the age of six years; a court, then, as in later days, distinguished for its pursuit of frivolous and vicious pleasures. Its gaieties were highly pleasing to a character like that of Mary: she was trained in the fashionable accomplishments of the times, but there was no attention to prepare her for discharging the severe duties of her royal station, while her mind was kept in bondage by the degrading superstitions of Popery. For a time all seemed to gratify this vain young female; when only aged seventeen, she found herself queen of two kingdoms, with a claim upon a third, esteemed valid by those around her. But a darker hour was at hand: by the unexpected death of her husband, she was suddenly cast down from what she considered the pinnacle of honour and happiness. She could have exclaimed, "Ye have taken away my gods, (all that I have been taught to value,) and what have I more!" The French queen-mother greatly dis liked Mary, so that she had to withdraw | from the court where lately all had been subject to her will. Even those she most trusted, recommended her to return to Scotland; her best friends also advised her to conciliate the reformed party there, and to wait with patient hope to succeed to the English throne, if Elizabeth_continued to remain unmarried. To Mary, so recently the queen of France, all this was a bitter trial; but as one whose ideas of happiness were restricted to the gaieties and frivolities of a polished court, the return to the coarse manners and want of refinement displayed in her native land, was still more trying. Mary applied to Elizabeth for a free passage through England. This was offered, if she would ratify the treaty of Edinburgh. Mary was very indignant at this request, and refused to do so till she had consulted with her counsellors in Scotland, though it was evident that if Elizabeth treated with her on any other terms, she in some degree sanctioned Mary's claim to the English throne. It was also important, that there should be no appearance on the part of Elizabeth, of a change in her friendly disposition towards the Scottish Protestants. But there was no design on the part of Elizabeth to intercept Mary. Had there been any desire to detain the queen of Scots, it would have been easy to have raised some pretext while she was passing through England. Some English ships were then at sea, searching for pirates: they saw Mary's vessels, and being satisfied that she was on board, saluted and dismissed them. This clearly appears from a contemporary authority. Mary left Calais for Scotland, in August, 1561. Brantome, who accompanied her, describes her regret on quitting the land which her fancy depicted as the only place desirable for an earthly residence. Looking towards the shore, as the shades of night came on, she exclaimed, "Adieu, France, farewell, farewell, my dear France," with other expressions indicating her affection for that land. She ordered a couch to be spread on deck, desiring to be called with the early dawn, if the French coast was still in sight. It was visible; she started up, and when the shores at last receded from her view, she said, "Adieu, France: all now is over, farewell, France." That Mary was a pleasing, and, in some respects, an amiable female, may be allowed; but it is evident that under bad training she was become the mere slave of her morbid feelings and sensations; looking back to past pleasures, rather than going forward to future employments; a spoiled child of indulgence and frivolity, acting on the impulse of the moment, though constantly planning deep and crafty schemes: wholly unfitted for the duties which awaited her, and evidently regarding them with dislike. Such dispositions in the ruler of a kingdom portended evil both to herself and her people, with trouble to her neighbours. Mary arrived safely at Edinburgh. The people received her with expressions of joy; but she was not pleased at their rude language, manners, and habits, nor at their rough attempts to welcome her to her native land. Smarting also from recent persecutions, the people could not behold her attachment to Popery with complacency. Her half-brother, the Lord James Stuart, prevented an unjustifiable interference with her religious observances, but she had to listen to the strong expressions of Knox and others against idolatry. She bitterly resented this, disclosing without hesitation, her determined resolution to uphold Popery. Thus Mary at once placed herself on ill terms with her subjects, who could not but contrast her conduct with that of the English queen, with whom also Mary seemed desirous of being on ill terms, again refusing to ratify the treaty of Edinburgh, thereby refusing to withdraw the assumption of a present right to the English throne, unless Elizabeth would recognize her as being entitled to the succession. This could not be listened to. The English nation were not inclined to hear that another Popish Mary was likely to be their queen, while to recognize her title would have given fresh energy to the partizans of Popery. But although Elizabeth, from prudential motives, refused to recognize Mary as her successor, she never sought to set aside her claim to be lawfully so considered; while Mary clearly displayed her opinion, that she had a title to the English throne, not as the successor of Elizabeth, but in preference to that princess, whom her Popish views led her to consider an usurper of her rights. OLD HUMPHREY'S VISIT TO LLANTONY ABBEY, IN SOUTH WALES. Now and then I love to go back to periods that are past; to live over again those seasons of interest and gratification | ments! Leaning on a staff for support, which have flung a sunbeam in my path and walking "softly," the breeze blowin days gone by. The more we remem- ing about their thin grey locks, they ber what we have enjoyed, the louder is dwell on the youth, the strength, and the call upon our thankfulness. Oh that activity of their by-gone days. Bear my heart were filled with praise, and my with them! Bear with them! mouth with thanksgiving! There is another enjoyment, too, that I love to indulge; and that is, the recreation of sketching a character with my pen. Scores of such sketches I have by me, that no eyes but my own have ever seen. They will be found, perhaps, among a mass of unconnected manuscripts when the mortal part of Old Humphrey is laid in the dust. It would have been a good thing for me through life if I had devoted half as much time to correcting my own character, as I have spent in observing the characters of others; but that has not been the case, and the consequence is, a frequent exhibition on my part of those infirmities that I so quickly detect in my neighbours. Think not, however, that I delight to banquet on the failings of my friends: this would be but an unlovely and unchristian employment. It is the oddity, the peculiarity, rather than the infirmity of human nature that I love to portray. At times, indeed, a strong dash of shadow mingles with my sketches; but if this be in the original, no marvel that it should appear in the copy. I will give you one of my sketches now. I am about to describe humanity in a novel form; at least, in a shape that it does not commonly assume. When we see a miser clutching his money bags, and looking around him suspiciously, we are certain of his selfishness; when a dealer in any article unduly praises what he would sell, we suspect him of the same evil; but when a man, under the guise of hospitality, offers us the best his house affords, no wonder that we should be somewhat thrown off our guard. Many a wintry wind has blown over the Black Mountains, and many a fall of snow has fringed their rugged eminences since I visited Llantony Abbey. It may be that the Abbey of Llantony is known to you; but if not, it may be a treat to you, on some future day, to visit its timeworn and desolated walls. In my time, I have been a capital pedestrian; twenty miles have I tramped before breakfast, and once I walked with a friend forty-seven miles on the last day of a lengthy excursion. Thus it is that old men prate about their past achieve It was at Christmas time that I set out on foot with two friends for Llantony Abbey. We had twenty-one miles of unknown ground to tramp over, at least unknown to me, and my friends had but a very general knowledge of it; a heavy fall of snow which had taken place added greatly to the fatigue of our journey, but we entered on our enterprise with light hearts and cheerful spirits. True it is, that our feet were sadly clogged with snow, so that we lifted up our heavy heels like labouring men walking across a fresh-ploughed field; and then, again, the descending flakes driven in myriads full in our faces, somewhat impeded our progress, to say nothing of the kneedeep snow-drifts we had to encounter in our occasional wanderings from the proper path; but these things are trifles when buoyant hearts are filled with the spirit of adventure. On we went, finding amusement in our toil, and laughing at each other's mishaps and difficulties. My friends were well educated. The elder of the two had a sobriety mingled with his cheerfulness that made him very companionable, and the younger added to his general buoyancy of heart, that ready wit, which, when under the influence of judgment and good nature, is always agreeable. An interesting enterprize is not the less pleasant when shared by agreeable companions. My Llantony trip is vividly impressed on my memory. I should be sorry to think that it was blotted from the memory of my companions. As we trudged onwards, little incidents occurred that gave an interest and variety to our journey. A friendly discussion, an anecdote, or an apt quotation from some favourite author; an allusion to the past, or a speculation relating to the future, by turns, called forth our conversational powers. How much of interest and pleasure is at times crowded into the brief space of a single hour! In a state of society, our every day duties and occupations often mould us into positions foreign to our natures and inclinations, so that we appear other than we really are. In a friendly ramble, we are ourselves; restrictions vanish, and we feel at liberty, a social feeling gathers around our hearts, and we think, speak, and act in our natural character. There are in such seasons, buoyant emotions, happy turns of thought, a disinterestedness, and a baring of the bosom, if I may so speak, that are delightful to share and pleasant to reflect upon. In one place, we came to the very edge of a precipice, whose perpendicular depth must have been more than a hundred feet. A tree leaned over from the bank, and up this tree I foolishly climbed, to drop, from amid its branches, a stone to the ground beneath. There are reckless moods wherein peril operates as a charm on the youthful mind, alluring the bounding heart to danger: no doubt you have found it so as well as myself. In a village through which we passed, we were treated in a very abrupt and discourteous way by a respectable-looking personage, whom we had civilly asked to direct us the road to Llantony. Now I hate churlishness in man or woman! A hog setting up his bristles and grunting in a menacing manner, without provocation, is scarcely more forbidding than a churlish man. As we pursued our course, guided rather by a sight of the distant hills, than by our knowledge of the roads, we were every now and then pent up by the enclosures of the different homesteads, or by the high hedges of the fields we had entered. Many a swollen brook had we to cross, and many a snow-drift to struggle through. At last we came to Llantony Abbey, a romantic ruin situated in the very heart of the mountains. A spot can scarcely be conceived more solitary and shut out from the world; the broad-breasted everlasting hills surrounding it on every side. Save the gorge at which we had entered, we looked in vain for any inlet to the valley. We had been told that a bed might be got at the neighbouring village pothouse; but this was a mistake. The clergyman of the parish had taken up his residence at the pothouse, there being no parsonage house near. The dormitory where we intended to sleep was thus occupied, and, as a last resource, we were fain to seek a shelter for the night, wet and weary as we were, in the inhabited end of the old Abbey. ing with the dreary situation of his abode, and the bleak mountains that rose around his habitation. Up the stone steps of the residence of Mr. Hollowblast we climbed with some difficulty; for they were slippery and heaped with snow, and we were much fatigued. My younger companion, who had rolled up his trowsers to the tops of his boots, cut a comical figure, lifting up his legs, as he did one after the other with his hands, being unequal in any other way to win the postern gate or doorway of Mr. Hollowblast's habitation. It was certainly an untimely hour, to say the least of it, for three weary pedestrians, with boots and stockings saturated with snow water, unexpectedly to apply for an asylum in so lonely a place; no wonder that the old gentleman received us, at first, rather ungraciously. Since the time of which I am now speaking, the brow of Old Humphrey has been graven by the hand of time, and his feet have travelled far toward the grave; but how has it been with his heart and his affections? Are they nearer heaven than they were? are they yearning for the mansions of the blest? Let me heave a sigh, and go on with my narrative. There sat the redoubted Mr. Hollowblast in his arm-chair by the fire, with a worsted night-cap on his head, a pair of blue, broad-ribbed, worsted stockings, of ample dimensions, drawn over his legs and thighs. While standing near the door, we made known to the old gentleman the object of our call. Attracted by the fame of Llantony Abbey, we had visited the place, but found no house where shelter for the night could be afforded us. were wet, we were weary, and as strangers we trusted he would render us all the assistance in his power. We "Why, gentlemen," said he, eyeing us with that scrutinizing glance with which a shrewd landlord is wont to regard customers of a doubtful appearance, this is an awkward time of night to come upon one unexpectedly, and an awkward time of the year too. Had it been in the summer, now, we could have managed the matter; for then we keep a bed or two always ready: but in winter it is altogether another affair. If you had only sent me word of your coming, there would have been no difficulty." A part of the ruin had been built up into some appearance of a mansion or dwelling-house, and this was inhabited by an old man of the name of Hollow- These observations were all very natublast; a name most admirably in keep-ral; but seeing that we could neither |