ieftain, and giving the casket letters their most | the ill-omened Castle of Dunbar. nclusive disproval.

The savage plot was ripening. Murray was England, speaking worse of Mary, says Drury, an became a subject-still less a brother; and orton, quitting Holyrood, was arranging his ans in Fife, assisted by the learned schemer, thington. They had made use of Bothwell for e dishonoring of the queen, and they were now solved to overwhelm him and her in the same estruction. They drew together at Stirling, udly exclaiming against Bothwell as the murerer of the late king, and assisted by the trumets of the reformers, calling on the people to ish in and separate the newly made man and ife.

On the evening of 6th of June, there was an nusual bustle in the palace of Holyrood. In le court-yard were assembled about a hundred med men on horseback round the royal litter, hile near it stood several horses bridled and addled-some of them harnessed for female ders-for it was whispered that at nightfall the ueen was to leave Holyrood for a place of greater afety. In the midst of the hurried preparation, he Duke of Orkney was walking up and down he great hall, giving his orders in a harsh voice nd with impatient gestures. He had issued a roclamation in the queen's name, on the 28th of May, summoning the crown retainers to meet t Melrose on 15th of June. But the lords resolved to anticipate the muster, were now on heir way to Edinburgh. A messenger who had idden hard, brought these news at noon, and Bothwell instantly resolved to remove that night to the strong Castle of Borthwick, twelve miles off. Accordingly, just as the stars began to come out, the Queen of Scots descended the stair of Holyrood, and getting into her litter, while a few ladies took horse by her side, was driven off at a rapid pace, the horsemen closing round her and her husband riding in silence by her side.

The lords entered Edinburgh in a few days, proclaiming that they meant to deliver the queen from the tyranny of Bothwell. They then marched their troops toward Borthwick, and a portion of them, coming up to the castle, summoned him to surrender. But he was not there. He had just escaped from the place, leaving the queen in the fortress. Next day the lords drew off their forces, and at night, the Queen of Scots left Borthwick on horseback, and we are told, alone, for the purpose of joining her husband. He had remained hid, in the neighborhood, and both met toward morning. They then rode rapidly together, with a few attendants, toward

Here they

were joined by a hasty levy, in obedience to the proclamation, and on 14th of June, Mary, at the head of an army of two thousand men, proceeded toward Edinburgh to engage the forces of the lords, three thousand strong, commanded by the chief homicide, Morton.

The armies met at Musselburgh, five miles from the capital, and stood drawn up, face to face, with low ground and a brook between them. Du Croc, the French ambassador, played the part of a mediator on that day. He rode into the camp of the lords, who told him they were ready to obey the queen, but would denounce Bothwell as the murderer of King Henry. He then ambled up to the tent of the queen, who received him courteously, but told him it did not look well, that they who had encouraged her marriage, should now rise to dissolve it. The Duke of Orkney, who had been arranging his lines, now came up and called out cheerfully, to let the troops hear him

"Well, M. l'Ambassadeur, what would these men yonder be at? I suppose they have shown you their mind—that is, if they know it themselves."

His demeanor was bold enough to challenge Du Croc's admiration, who, refusing his accolade, answered him in the same raised tone

My lord duke, those lords say they will do their duty by the queen. But let me tell you," this was in a lower key, "they are your mortal enemies."

that.
bond?

bond?

"Oh, no doubt, no doubt! We understand all And what of that trial? What of that Does not all the world know of that Now God mend them! I never offended any of them, and the best of them would have been glad to do what I have done. It is all fortune. I have had mine, and will maintain it with this. Go, for God's sake, and procure a champion from among those yonder, to meet me by the brook, and maintain their base calumny, with his sword. Do it; a nobleman, mark ye, and my peer!"

The duke spoke in a loud voice, willing that the soldiers should hear him. But the queen interposed, and said she would not permit such arbitrement in her presence. In a moment or two the chieftain again spoke—

"Lo, you, M. l'Ambassadeur, there is no time to talk. I see them crossing the brook, and we must be at blows immediately. If you wish to make peace, like the man who came between Scipio and Hannibal, do so. Otherwise, if you wish to see a battle, stand aside. I promise you

fine pastime; for there will be shrewd fighting, I her fate should be decided by a pair of duellists. judge."

Du Croc here parted from the queen, leaving her with tears in her eyes. He rode down and told the lords that she would pardon them if they returned to their duty.

"If that be all," replied Morton, "there is no more to be said; but we pray ye remove from the field before the fight begin."

While these things were passing, the queen, as she sat on her palfrey, observed a captain at the head of some horsemen approach her position, from the opposite lines. She asked who it was, and hearing it was Kirkaldy of Grange, sent to bid him come to her. With a darkened brow, Orkney saw this soldier ride up and hold conference with Mary. Melville says he ordered a trooper to shoot Kirkaldy. At all events, the duke approached, and addressing himself to the envoy, denounced the charges of the lords as false and base, and offered to engage Morton in single combat, or any one else who should accuse him of slaying the king. Kirkaldy said he would deliver the challenge, and at the same time, tried to persuade the queen to go over to the lords and let Bothwell depart. When he returned and delivered the duke's challenge, Lord Lindsay of the Byres accepted it, and having received the family sword of the Earl Morton, proceeded to the front to meet the challenger. But the queen was weary of the long parley, and offended to think

and she therefore announced that, on Kirkaldy's fair promises, she would go to the lords. It was in vain that the duke, denouncing them as traitors, and swearing it would be better to fight it out, tried to dissuade her from her purpose. She came to the unhappy resolution to trust the murderers of Darnley, and those who had already helped to cover her with dishonor.

The lords were very anxious to frighten Bothwell away-not wishing to provoke any confession from him. Grange came and advised him to retire to some place of safety for a time-a3 his enemies were bent on slaying him. The queen also advised him to go back to Dunbar, and told him he should hear from her again. By this time the forces on both sides were approaching and mixing together, and Kirkaldy, holding Mary's bridle rein, led her slowly down the slope. Orkney, seeing all was lost, bent his head to the queen, who returned a mute gesture of farewell; then turning his horse, and ordering his ow border horsemen to attend him, he galloped over the brow of the hill, in the direction of Dunbar. Thus, after the union of a month, was broken that fatal marriage. Bothwell and Mary never met again. He fled to the shore,

And, mounting the ocean wave, banished forlorn. Like a limb from his country, cast bleeding and torn, was soon lost forever in the darkness and billows of the northern seas.

THE GRAPE GATHERER.

I AM a noble lady

As any one may see,

And that, I think's, the reason

You trifle so with me.

You love that grape-girl yonder

The one against the wall:

BY R. H. STODDARD.

She climbs, and climbs, but have a care,
A step, and she may fall!

You walked with her this morning,
Her basket on your head:

'Twas better than my coronet,"

Or something so you said;

"And the grapes and yellow tendrils
Tangled in her hair,

Were brighter than my ringlets,
And all the pearls I wear."

You should have seen her lover,
Couched in the vines hard by,
A swarthy, black-browed fellow,
With a devil in his eye.

He clutched his grape hook fiercely,
And, but that I were near,
He would have slain you, cousin,
And will some day I fear.

You think she loves you only,

And so thought all the rest,
*Why, you had hardly left her

Before the Count was blast.
You doubt? pray ask her sister,
Or ask the jilted swains;
Or watch, when she's not watching,
'Twill well be worth your pains.

I should be very angry,

'Tis so unworthy you;

But since you say "'twas jesting,"

I must forgive, and do.

I own I love you somewhat,

But ere you marry me,
You must do one thing, cousin—

Let my grape-gatherers be!

THE EX-COLLEGIAN'S STORY.

BY CRAWFORD WILSON.

ONE of our party had been speaking of a wed-drilled into me by the schoolmaster's cane. If 1 ding to which he had been invited the day previous; he had just concluded, when Mr. Cavanagh's "Now wait a minte till I tell you something," at once put a stop to further remarks.

was as well acquainted with the dead languages as I was with the rattan, Cardinal Wiseman or a dozen of dictionaries wouldn't be fit to hold a candle to me; but I was not. However, as it was the wish of my father and mother, I took to it—as did fair Rosamond to the poison—unkindly, for I had no particle of relish for it.

"When I had arrived, through grammars, lexicons, floggings, algebra, and metaphysics, at the romantic age of one-and-twenty, a tide in my destiny began to ebb. An incident then occurred that ruled my fate, and overthrew my resolutions. But I must not anticipate. I was

"Had you ever any design on the loaves and sauntering one day through some fields, a few fishes?" asked another.

"I was set aside, and destined for the church, sir, six years before I was born-educated for the office for sixteen years after that memorable event took place-studied hard at college till I was two-and-twenty, and yet the fates were unpropitious."

miles distant from the college, studying closely for the approaching examinations, when I found myself within a very short distance of a respectable farm-house; a small quickset hedge, about five feet in height, separated me from a closelyclipped lawn, that lay directly in front of the hall door. I had only taken my eyes from my book

"Not unwise in them either," said the vice- to note my whereabouts, when the sounds of a president.

lively female voice made me pocket my dull com

"Then how comes it that you are not in or-panion, and turn my attention to the place from ders?" asked Cox.

"Now wait for a minute till I tell you. Don't be in a hurry, for that may disturb digestion-fair and aisy goes far in a day'-we'll Boon come to it. Now I never was married, although I missed the church."

whence the voice proceeded. A laugh, clear as the euphonious tinkling of silver bells, and sweet as the soul of melody, immediately followed: not the laugh of piping senility, but evidently the merry notes ringing forth from a breast unknown to those relentless and hereditary taskmasters

"More shame for you," chimed in his left- Care and Sorrow. I stood upon tiptoe, and hand supporter.

"Well, it was not my fault, and it was-I'm going to tell you all about it, if you'll only give me time. You don't want me to choke myself with a story in my mouth ?"

"There would be little hopes for you if you did," remarked Cox, sotto voce. "I only wonder =you've escaped with so many."

looked cautiously over the hedge. If that hedge had been a stone wall of double the height, I might now be saying vespers, with a bishop's stole for my reward, and a cardinal's hat in the perspective; but it was only a low hedge, and I could see over it. A lovely young creature sat there before me, at that happy stage when the girl and the woman meet for the first time, where

The quick ears of Mr. Cavanagh overheard the bud opens imperceptibly into the floweret, what was said.

"Come now, Cox, that aint fair. You know that by 'story' I did not mean a falsehood or fabrication, but merely an anecdote. Never mind what he says, gentlemen; I never do. You must know, then, in the first place, before we go any further, that learning was never my weakness; I had a soul above musty heathenish books. What I became possessed of was regularly

and teaches the cheek to glow rapturously at the whispered voice of love. I dared not move, lest the attempt might lead to discovery, and dissolve the living picture-the only one of the kind I had every beheld; nor could I return, for my senses were fascinated, the holy calling swiftly evapo rating, and the instinctive desire of man not to dwell alone swelling rebelliously within me. I was unperceived, so greedily feasted my eyes

she had left me, caused me to take a decided step at once under his banner; my reasons for asking and come boldly to the point.

"MY BELOVED AND ADORABLE MARY-My father's wish, as I told you before, is, that I should become a priest-think of that--a priest, a black-coated, closely-shaven, sanctimonious priest. Bah! the very thought of their fusty order almost paralyzes me. I detest the whole sect, and only hope to be brought into col-smooth.' I despatched the letters; awaited the lision with them at such times as matrimony, and its consequences, may demand their services. How think you? Is not the order of Hymen, in whose temple you have consented to be my lovely priestess, far more preferable? Enlist with me