lizabeth. The
heads of the reformed religious party in Scotland, called the "Lords
of the Congregation," had negotiated a treaty with Elizabeth, one of
the terms of which was a renunciation, on the part of Mary, of all
claims to the crown of England forever. This Mary refused to ratify,
and replied to the crafty ministers of her rival with a spirit,
intelligence, and firmness, extraordinary in a girl of eighteen. At
the same time, she was courteous and gentle, and apologized for the
assumption of the title and arms of queen of England, which, at the
death of her husband, she had renounced. Attempts had been made to
excite the fears of her Protestant subjects, which she thus set at
rest: "I will be plain with you; the religion I profess I take to be
the most acceptable to God; and indeed I neither know nor desire any
other. I have been brought up in this religion, and who might credit
me in any thing if I should show myself light in this case? I am none
of those who change their religion every year; but I mean to constrain
none of my subjects, though I could wish they were all as I am; and I
trust they shall have no support to constrain me."

Having at length resolved to return home, Mary sent to demand of
Elizabeth a free passage; it was a mere point of courtesy and
etiquette, but it was refused. The English ambassador sought in vain
to justify his mistress's conduct; it arose from exasperated jealousy,
and was inexcusable and mean, as well as discourteous.

It was with grief almost amounting to despair that Mary left the
scenes of her early attachments, and of all her pleasures. Accustomed
to the refinement of the court of France, she reflected with a degree
of horror on the barbarism of her own country, and the turbulence of
the people. She stood upon the deck of the vessel which bore her,
gazing through her tears on the receding shores. "Farewell, France!"
she would exclaim from time to time; "farewell, beloved country, which
I shall never more behold!" When night came on, she caused a bed to be
spread on the deck, and wept herself to sleep.

By the favor of a thick fog, Mary escaped the fleet which Elizabeth
had sent out to intercept her, and landed at Leith. With sensations of
terror and sadness she entered her capital; and they may well be
excused. The poverty of the country formed a striking contrast with
the fertile plains of France. The weather was wet and "dolorous;" and
a serenade of bagpipes, with which t