The Scottish Reformers, who had
formed a great league which they called The Congregation of the Lord,
secretly represented to Elizabeth that, if the reformed religion got the
worst of it with them, it would be likely to get the worst of it in
England too; and thus, Elizabeth, though she had a high notion of the
rights of Kings and Queens to do anything they liked, sent an army to
Scotland to support the Reformers, who were in arms against their
sovereign. All these proceedings led to a treaty of peace at Edinburgh,
under which the French consented to depart from the kingdom. By a
separate treaty, Mary and her young husband engaged to renounce their
assumed title of King and Queen of England. But this treaty they never
fulfilled.

It happened, soon after matters had got to this state, that the young
French King died, leaving Mary a young widow. She was then invited by
her Scottish subjects to return home and reign over them; and as she was
not now happy where she was, she, after a little time, complied.

Elizabeth had been Queen three years, when Mary Queen of Scots embarked
at Calais for her own rough, quarrelling country. As she came out of the
harbour, a vessel was lost before her eyes, and she said, 'O! good God!
what an omen this is for such a voyage!' She was very fond of France,
and sat on the deck, looking back at it and weeping, until it was quite
dark. When she went to bed, she directed to be called at daybreak, if
the French coast were still visible, that she might behold it for the
last time. As it proved to be a clear morning, this was done, and she
again wept for the country she was leaving, and said many times,
'Farewell, France! Farewell, France! I shall never see thee again!' All
this was long remembered afterwards, as sorrowful and interesting in a
fair young princess of nineteen. Indeed, I am afraid it gradually came,
together with her other distresses, to surround her with greater sympathy
than she deserved.

When she came to Scotland, and took up her abode at the palace of
Holyrood in Edinburgh, she found herself among uncouth strangers and wild
uncomfortable customs very different from her experiences in the court of
France. The very people who were disposed to love her, made her head
ache when she was tired out by her voyage, with a serenade of discordant
music--a fearful concert of bagpipes, I suppose--and brought her and her
train home to her palace on miserable little Scotch hor