Soon after this survey, we gather from Mr. Bonney's Notices, the castle seems to have been consigned to ruin; for Sir Robert Cotton, who lived at that time, purchased the hall in which the Queen of Scots was beheaded, and removed it to Connington, in Huntingdonshire. The stone of other parts was purchased by Robert Kirkham, Esq., to build a chapel in his house at Fineshade, in the neighbourhood; and the last remains of the castle were destroyed in the middle of the eighteenth century, for the purpose of improving the navigation of the Nen. There is a tale of Fotheringhay having been destroyed by order of James I., on account of its having been the scene of his mother's sufferings; but this has been disproved, although it was long believed that the Talbot Inn at Oundle, which is evidently of the age of James I., was built with the stone from the castle.

In June 1820, the earth on the eastern side of the mount on which the keep stood was removed, when the workmen laid open one of the servants' apartments on the western side of the castle court, and part of the pavement of Norman bricks could be traced. About the same time, in the earth outside the fortification, were found a groat of Edward II. and a shilling of Edward IV.

Mr. Brooke's visit to Fotheringhay in 1858 gives us this brief but minute account of the aspect of this very interesting historic site: 'Sufficient remains of the earthworks and ramparts of the castle are yet there to show that it was built in the form of a fetterlock, with a flat face or portion on

the side (westward) nearest to the village, and circular on the eastward portion. A very small mass of masonry, a few feet long, lies near the river, and seems to have slipped or been thrown down from the outer wall.'

The events of Mary's life have been minutely discussed by a host of writers. The site we have here described was the closing scene of this most unfortunate of sovereigns. The opposite views of the several authors have led to a protracted controversy as to the guilt of Mary in her ambitious schemes. Of late years evidences from forgotten archives have thrown a flood of light upon her dark career; and the Simancas papers and the collection at Hatfield have been adduced for the first time, and proved of great importance and interest. These novel materials Mr. Froude has ably digested in his valuable History of England. Of Mary Stuart's history he takes a most unfavourable view. Entirely unprincipled, save in her fidelity to the Church of Rome, which led her into conspiracy against her cousin Elizabeth, Mary was not habitually vicious or depraved. But her passions were strong; and when they were once aroused, no obstacle either of virtue or of fear could turn her from her purpose. Her energy, her fiery strength of will, were perhaps unequalled in the history of woman. 'There are only two views which can be entertained of Mary Stuart's character,' says an impartial reviewer. Either she was the most curiously and extraordinarily unfortunate woman who ever lived, or she was a foul adulteress and murderess, who lured her husband to his death with circumstances of

peculiar treachery and baseness. Mr. Froude has convinced the large majority of his readers that the latter view is the true one. The broad facts of the case point unquestionably to the worst conclusion. Nor can it be well denied, that if Mary had been old and ugly, and had died in her bed, probably not a single voice would have been raised in her defence. Her beauty, her misfortunes, the injuries which she received at the hands of her rival, and her early and tragical death (at the age of forty-five), have thrown a halo of romance round her name which has raised up defenders of her innocence; but they have been persons led by the heart and not by the head.' Their number must be greatly reduced by evidence recently. produced; and if Mary Stuart was innocent, no conclusion can be considered worthy of reliance.

The few fragments which remain of this palace and prison can only be duly appreciated by the archeologist. It is not a little curious, that of so celebrated an edifice in its entirety, not a view exists, or is of extreme rarity. Even a large folio history of the county represents but a few stones.

TRADITIONS OF WALLINGTON AND THE

CALVERLEYS.

N the time of Henry VI., there was erected by
William de Strother, in Northumberland, a

border tower named Wallington, which is described in a survey of 1542 as consisting of a strong toure and a stone house of the inherytance of Sir John Fenwyeke, in good reparacion.' So profuse was the hospitality kept up here, as to become the subject both of song and legend, narrating the frays and frolics that followed a hard day's 'chase. 'Show us the way to Wallington' is an old and favourite air in the neighbourhood:

'Harnham was headless, Bradford breadless,

Shafto picked at the craw;

Capheaton was a wee bonny place,

But Wallington banged them a'.'

But this hospitality could not be supported after a frequent residence in London, and the profligate habits of Charles II.'s court encroached too deeply upon the rentals. This led to the sale of the property, and not improbably was the cause of Sir John Fenwicke, its last owner, being implicated

in the plot for the assassination of King William III., for which he was beheaded on Tower hill, Jan. 28, 1696. All his hopes of court favour being extinguished, disappointment and revenge were likely enough to make him adopt any measures to retrieve his broken fortunes. Be this as it may, the estate passed by sale to Sir William Blackett, who rebuilt the mansion at the end of the seventeenth century. From this family Wallington passed to the Trevelyans, in whose hands the place has lost none of its former interest. There is a museum in the mansion, where is preserved a portrait of Joyce, the widow of Henry Calverley, the only survivor of the Yorkshire tragedy: My brat at nurse, my beggar boy.' In this portrait the spiteful old dame is represented with a scroll in her right hand, whereon these lines are inscribed:

'Silence, Walter Calverley;

This is all that I will leave W. C.:

Time was I might have given thee me.'

This Walter was her son; and, whatever may have been his faults, he showed a gentle spirit in not committing this legacy to the flames.

To the family of Calverley a very tragical story attaches. Walter Calverley having married Philippa Brooke, the daughter of Lord Cobham, became, soon after this marriage, jealous of the then Vavasour of Weston. In a moment of ungovernable fury, arising from suspicion of his wife's infidelity, he killed his two eldest sons, and then with his dagger attempted to stab the lady herself. Luckily,

D