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tendants; and Paulet's guard augmented the number to between one hundred and fifty and two hundred spectators. Before eight, a message was sent to the queen, who replied
that she would be ready in half an hour. At that time, 5 Andrews, the sheriff, entered the oratory, and Mary arose,
taking the crucifix from the altar in her right, and carrying her prayer-book in her left, hand. Her servants were forbidden to follow; they insisted; but the queen bade
them to be content, and turning, gave them her blessing. 10 They received it on their knees, some kissing her hands,
others her mantle. The door closed; and the burst of lamentation from those within resounded through the hall.
Mary was now joined by the earl and her keepers, and descending the staircase, found, at the foot, Melville, the 15 steward of her household, who, for several weeks, had been
excluded from her presence. This old and faithful servant threw himself on his knees, and wringing his hands exclaimed, Ah, madam, unhappy me! was ever a man on
earth the bearer of such sorrow as I shall be, when I report 20 that my good and gracious queen and mistress was be
headed in England !” Here his grief impeded his utterance; and Mary replied, “Good Melville, cease to lament; thou hast rather cause to joy than mourn; for thou shalt see
the end of Mary Stuart's troubles. Know that this world 25 is but vanity, subject to more sorrow than an ocean of tears
can bewail. But I pray thee, report that I die a true woman to my religion, to Scotland, and to France. May God forgive them that have long thirsted for my blood, as
the bart doth for the brooks of water. O God, thou art the 30 author of truth, and truth itself. Thou knowest the in
ward chambers of my thoughts, and that I always wished the union of England and Scotland. Commend me to my son, and tell him that I have done nothing prejudicial to the dignity or independence of his crown, or favorable to
* Sir Amias Paulet was the person who had the custody of Mary's perron,
the pretended superiority of our enemies." Then bursting into tears, she said, “Good Melville, farewell;" and kissing him, “once again, good Melville, farewell, and pray for
thy mistress and thy queen.” It was remarked as some5 thing extraordinary, that this was the first time in her life she had ever been known to address a person with the
prothou.” The procession now set forward. It was headed by the sheriff and his officers; next followed Paulet and Drury, 10 and the Earls of Shrewsbury and Kent; and lastly came
the Scottish queen, with Mellville bearing her train. She wore the richest of her dresses
- that which was appropriate to the rank of a queen dowager. Her step was firm,
and her countenance cheerful. She bore without shrinking 15 the gaze of the spectators, and the sight of the scaffold,
the block, and the executioner, and advanced into the hall with that grace and majesty which she had so often displayed in her happier days, and in the palace of her fathers.
To aid her as she mounted the scaffold, Paulet offered 20 his arm.
“I thank you, sir,” said Mary; “it is the last trouble I shall give you, and the most acceptable service you
have ever rendered me.” The queen seated herself on a stool which was prepared for her. On her right stood the two earls; on the left the 25 sheriff and Beal, the clerk of the council ; in front, the
executioner from the Tower, in a suit of black velvet, with his assistant, also clad in black. The warrant was read, and Mary, in an audible voice, addressed the assembly.
She would have them recollect that she was a sov30 ereign princess, not subject to the parliament of England,
but brought there to suffer by injustice and violence. She, however, thanked her God that he had given her this opportunity of publicly professing her religion, and of declar
ing, as she had often before declared, that she had never 35 imagined, nor compassed, nor consented to, the death of
the English queen, nor ever sought the least harm to her
person. After her death, many things, which were then buried in darkness, would come to light. But she pardoned from her heart all her enemies, nor should her tongue utter
that which might turn to their prejudice. 5 Here she was interrupted by Dr. Fletcher, Dean of Pe
terborough, who, having caught her eye, began to preach, and under that cover, perhaps through motives of zeal, contrived to insult the feelings of the unfortunate sufferer.
Mary repeatedly desired him not to trouble himself and 10 her. He persisted; she turned aside. He made the cir
cuit of the scaffold, and again addressed her in front. An end was put to this extraordinary scene by the Earl of Shrewsbury, who ordered him to pray.
His prayer was the echo of his sermon; but Mary heard 15 him not. She was employed at the time in her devotions,
repeating with a loud voice, and in the Latin language, passages from the book of Psalms; and after the dean was reduced to silence, a prayer in French, in which she begged
of God to pardon her sins, declared that she forgave her 20 enemies, and protested that she was innocent of ever con
senting, in wish or deed, to the death of her English sister. She then prayed in English for Christ's afflicted church, for her son James, and for queen Elizabeth, and in conclu
sion, holding up the crucifix, exclaimed, " As thy arms, 0 25 God, were stretched out upon the cross, so receive me into the arms of thy mercy, and forgive my sins."
When her maids, bathed in tears, began to disrobe their mistress. the executioners, fearing the loss of their usual
perquisites, hastily interfered. The queen remonstrated, 30 but instantly submitted to their rudeness, observing to the
earls, with a smile, that she was not accustomed to employ such grooms, or to undress in the presence of so numerous a company.
Her servants, at the sight of their sovereign in this la35 mentable state, could not suppress their feelings; but Mary, putting her finger to her lips, commanded silence, gave
them her blessing, and solicited their prayers.
She then seated herself again. Kennedy, taking from her a handkerchief edged with gold, pinned it over her eyes; the
executioners, holding her by the arms, led her to the block; 5 and the queen, kneeling down, said repeatedly, with a firm voice, " Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.'
But the sobs and groans of the spectators disconcerted the headsman. He trembled, missed his aim, and inflicted
a deep wound in the lower part of the skull. The queen 10 remained motionless; and at the third stroke her head was
severed from her body. When the executioner held it up, the muscles of the face were so strongly convulsed, that the features could not be recognized. He cried as usual, “ God save queen
Elizabeth.” • So perish all her enemies !” subjoined the Dean of Peterborough.
“So perish all the enemies of the gospel !” exclaimed, in a still louder tone, the fanatical Earl of Kent.
Not a voice was heard to cry amen. Party feeling was absorbed in admiration and pity.
(JOHN WILSON was born May 19, 1785, at Paisley, in Scotland, and died April 3, 185t. In 1812 he published a poem called the “ Isle of Palms," which won high, though not wide, admiration, for its tenderness of feeling and beauty of sentiment. In 1816 there appeared from his pen a volume containing “ The City of the Plague," a dramatic poem, and several miscellaneous pieces in verse. In 1820 he was appointed professor of moral philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, succeeding Dr. Thomas Brown. In 1822 he published, anonymously, a volume called “ The Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life,” contaiving several stories and sketches illustrating the traits and manners of the rural population of Scotland. A novel in the same style, called “ Margaret Lyndsay," was published by him in 1823. But his ablest and most characteristic productions are those which he wrote from time to time for“ Blackwood's (Edinburgh) Magazine."
His intellectual powers were accompanied and enforced by the finest physical gifts. His form was cast in the noblest mould of manly beauty. He was a
keen sportsman, and excelled in all athletic exercises. In his youth and early
Her giant form
Mid the deep darkness, white as snow ! .5 But gentler now the small waves glide
Like playful lambs o'er a mountain's side;
Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast ! 10 - Hush ! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last
Five hundred souls in one instant of dread
Becomes a lifeless wreck.
Her planks are torn asunder,
Her sails are draggled in the brine, 20 That gladdened late the skies,
And her pendant that kissed the fair moonshine