a most solemn and funereal expression. The part of
the hall containing this scaffold was railed off from the rest. The
governor of the castle, and a body of guards, came in and took their
station at the sides of the room. Two executioners, one holding the
axe, stood upon the scaffold on one side of the block. Two of the
commissioners stood upon the other side. The remaining commissioners
and several gentlemen of the neighborhood took their places as
spectators without the rail. The number of persons thus assembled was
about two hundred. Strange that any one should have come in,
voluntarily, to witness such a scene!

When all was ready, the sheriff, carrying his white wand of office,
and attended by some of the commissioners, went for Mary. She was at
her devotions, and she asked a little delay that she might conclude
them: perhaps the shrinking spirit clung at the last moment to life,
and wished to linger a few minutes longer before taking the final
farewell. The request was granted. In a short time Mary signified
that she was ready, and they began to move toward the hall of
execution. Her attendants were going to accompany her. The sheriff
said this could not be allowed. She accordingly bade them farewell,
and they filled the castle with the sound of their shrieks and
lamentations.

Mary went on, descending the stair-case, at the foot of which she was
joined by one of her attendants, from whom she had been separated for
some time. His name was Sir Andrew Melville, and he was the master of
her household. The name of her secretary Melville was James. Sir
Andrew kneeled before her, kissed her hand, and said that this was
the saddest hour of his life. Mary began to give him some last
commissions and requests. "Say," said she, "that I died firm in the
faith; that I forgive my enemies; that I feel that I have never
disgraced Scotland, my native country, and that I have been always
true to France, the land of my happiest years. Tell my son--" Here
her voice faltered and ceased to be heard, and she burst into tears.

She struggled to regain her composure. "Tell my son," said she, "that
I thought of him in my last moments, and that I have never yielded,
either by word or deed, to any thing whatever that might lead to his
prejudice. Tell him to cherish the memory of his mother, and say that
I sincerely hope his life may be happier than mine has been."

Mary then turned to the commissioners who stood by, and renewed her
requ