ruins for many years--many
interesting historical facts are recorded. Thus it is said Queen
Elizabeth visited her favourite, the Earl of Essex, here in August,
1575, and was entertained by him in a half-timbered house which
formerly stood near the Castle, but was long since destroyed by fire.
It is questionable whether Mary Queen of Scots was imprisoned in this
house, or in a portion of the old Castle. Certain, however, it is that
the unfortunate queen was brought to Chartley from Tutbury on
Christmas day, 1585. The exact date at which she left Chartley is
uncertain, but it appears she was removed thence under a plea of
taking the air without the bounds of the Castle. She was then
conducted by daily stages from the house of one gentleman to another,
under pretence of doing her honour, without her having the slightest
idea of her destination, until she found herself on the 20th of
September, within the fatal walls of Fotheringhay Castle.

Cortachy Castle, the seat of the Earl of Airlie, has for many years
past been famous for its mysterious drummer, for whenever the sound of
his drum is heard it is regarded as the sure indication of the
approaching death of a member of the Ogilvie family. There is a tragic
origin given to this curious phenomenon, the story generally told
being to the effect that either the drummer, or some officer whose
emissary he was, had excited the jealousy of a former Lord Airlie, and
that he was in consequence of this occurrence put to death by being
thrust into his own drum, and flung from the window of the tower, in
which is situated the chamber where his music is apparently chiefly
heard. It is also said that the drummer threatened to haunt the family
if his life were taken, a promise which he has not forgotten to
fulfil.

Then there is the well-known tradition that prior to the death of any
of the lords of Roslin, Roslin Chapel appears to be on fire, a weird
occurrence which forms the subject of Harold's song in the "Lay of the
Last Ministrel."

O'er Roslin all that dreary night
A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;
'Twas broader than the watch-fire light
And redder than the bright moonbeam.

It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
It ruddied all the copse-wood glen;
'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.

Seem'd all on fire that Chapel proud,
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie;
Each Baron, for a sa