XIII.

ESCAPE OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS FROM
LOCHLEVEN CASTLE.--II.

The enterprise of Roland Græme appeared to prosper. A trinket or two, of which the work did not surpass the substance (for the materials were silver, supplied by the Queen), were judiciously presented to those most likely to be inquisitive into the labours of the forge and anvil, which they thus were induced to reckon profitable to others and harmless in itself. Openly, the page was seen working about such trifles. In private, he forged a number of keys resembling so nearly in weight and in form those which were presented every evening to the Lady Lochleven, that on a slight inspection, it would have been difficult to perceive the difference. He brought them to the dark rusty colour by the use of salt and water; and, in the triumph of his art, presented them at length to Queen Mary in her presence-chamber, about an hour before the tolling of the curfew. She looked at them with pleasure, but at the same time with doubt.

"I allow," she said, "that the Lady Lochleven's eyes, which are not of the clearest, may be well deceived, could we pass those keys on her, in place of the real implements of her tyranny. But how is this to be done, and which of my little court dare attempt this conjuring trick with any chance of success?"

"Nay! with your grace's permission," said Roland, "I doubt not to manage the matter with discretion; for though, in your grace's service, I do not fear--"

"A host of old women," interrupted Catherine, "each armed with rock and spindle, yet he has no fancy for pikes and partizans.”

"They that do not fear fair ladies' tongues," continued the page, "need dread nothing else. But, gracious liege, I am well nigh satisfied that I could pass the exchange of these keys on the Lady Lochleven; but I dread the sentinel who is now planted nightly in the garden, which by necessity, we must traverse."

"Our last advices from our friend on the shore have promised us assistance in that matter," replied the Queen.

"And is your grace well assured of the fidelity and watchfulness of those without?"

"For their fidelity, I will answer with my life, and for their vigilance, I will answer with my life—I will give thee instant proof, my faithful Roland, that they are ingenious and trusty as thyself. Come hither. Nay, Catherine, attend us. Make fast the door of the parlour, Fleming, and warn us if you hear the least step-or stay, go thou to the door, Catherine (in a whisper), thy ears and thy wits are both sharper."

Thus speaking, they were lighted by the Lady Fleming into the Queen's bed-room, a small apartment lighted by a projecting window.

"Look from that window, Roland," she said 66 d; see you amongst the several lights which begin to kindle, and to glimmer palely through the grey of the evening from the village of Kinross-seest thou, I say, one solitary spark apart from the others, and nearer it seems to the verge of the water? It is no brighter at this distance than the torch of the poor glow-worm, and yet, my good youth, that light is more dear to Mary Stuart, than every star that twinkles in the blue vault of Heaven. By that signal, I know that more than one true heart are plotting my deliverance; and without that knowledge, and the hope of freedom it gives me, I had long since stooped to my fate, and died of a broken heart. Plan after plan has been formed and abandoned,

but still the light glimmers, and while it glimmers my hope lives."

"If I mistake not," answered Roland, "the candle shines from the house of Blinkhoolie, the mail-gardener."

"Thou hast a good eye," said the Queen; "it is there where my trusty lieges-God and the saints pour blessings on them!-hold consultation for my deliverance. The voice of a wretched captive would die on these blue waters long ere it could mingle in their councils, and yet I can hold communication-I will confide the whole to thee-I am about to ask those faithful friends if the moment for the great attempt is nigh. Place the lamp in the window, Fleming."

She obeyed, and immediately withdrew it. No sooner had she done so, than the light in the cottage of the gardener disappeared.

"Now, count," said Queen Mary, "for my heart beats so thick that I cannot count myself."

The Lady Fleming began deliberately to count one, two, three, and when she had arrived at ten, the light on the shore again showed its pale twinkle.

"Now our Lady be praised!" said the Queen! "it was but two nights since, that the absence of the light remained, while I could tell thirty. The hour of deliverance approaches. May God bless those who labour in it with such truth to me!-alas! with such hazard to themselves. And bless you too, my children! Come, we must to the audience-chamber again. Our absence might excite suspicion, should they serve the supper."

They returned to the presence-chamber, and the evening concluded as usual.

THE KING AND I.

1. The king can drink the best of wine, So can I, so can I;

And has enough when he would dine,
So have I, so have I;

And cannot order rain or shine,

Nor can I, nor can I.

Then where's the difference, let me see,
Betwixt my lord the king and me ?

2. Do trusty friends surround his throne
Night and day, night and day,
And make his interest their own?
No, not they, no, not they!
Mine love me for myself alone,
Bless'd be they, bless'd be they.
And that's one difference which I see
Betwixt my lord the king and me.

3. He has his fools with jests and quips,
When he'd play, when he'd play ;
He has his armies and his ships,
Great are they, great are they.
But not a child to kiss his lips,
Well-a-day, well-a-day!

And that's a difference sad to see
Betwixt my lord the king and me.

4. I wear the cap and he the crown,
What of that, what of that?

I sleep on straw and he on down,
What of that, what of that?
And he's the king and I'm the clown,
What of that, what of that?

If happy I and wretched he,

Perhaps the king would change with me!

C. MACKAY.

D