[Illustration: Letter W.]
When the widowed Mary, Queen of Scots, left France, where she had dwelt
since her fifth year--where she had shared in the education of the
French King's own daughters, in one of the convents of the kingdom, and
been the idol of the French Court and people, it is said that, as the
coast of the happy land faded from her view, she continued to exclaim,
"Farewell, France! farewell, dear France--I shall never see thee more!"
And her first view of Scotland only increased the poignancy of these
touching regrets. So little pains had been taken to "cover over the
nakedness and poverty of the land," that tears sprang into her eyes,
when, fresh from the elegant luxurious Court of Paris, she saw the
wretched ponies, with bare, wooden saddles, or dirty and ragged
trappings, which had been provided to carry her and her ladies from the
water-side to Holyrood. And then the palace itself; how different from
the palaces in which she had lived in France! Dismal and small, it
consisted only of what is now the north wing. The state-room and the
bed-chamber which were used by her yet remain, with the old furniture,
and much of the needle-work there is said to have been the work of her
hands.
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