The confederate lords carried on their preparations with no less activity, and with much more success. Among a warlike people, men of so much power and popularity found it an easy matter to raise an army. They were ready to march before the queen and Bothwell were in a condition to resist them. The castle of Edinburgh was the place whither the queen ought naturally to have retired, and there her person might have been perfectly safe. But the confederates had fallen on means to shake, or corrupt the fidelity of Sir James Balfour the deputy-governor, and Bothwell durst not commit to him such an important trust. He conducted the queen to the castle of Borthwick, and on the appearance of Lord Home, with a body of his followers, before that place, he fled with precipitation to Dunbar, and was followed by the queen disguised in men's clothes. The confederates advanced towards Edinburgh, where Huntly endeavoured in vain to animate the inhabitants to defend the town against them. They entered without opposition, and were instantly joined by many of the citizens, whose zeal became the firmest support of their cause.

In order to set their own conduct in the most favourable light, and to rouse the public indignation against Bothwell, the nobles published a declaration of the motives which had induced them to take arms. All Bothwell's past crimes were enumerated, all his wicked intentions displayed and aggravated, and every true Scotsman was called upon to join them in avenging the one, and in preventing

the other.

Meanwhile Bothwell assembled his forces at Dunbar, and as he had many dependants in that corner, he soon gathered such strength that he ventured to advance towards the confederates. On the first intelligence of the queen's approach, the con

federates advanced to meet her. They found her forces drawn up on the same ground which the English had possessed at the battle of Pinkie. The numbers on both sides were nearly equal; but there was no equality in point of discipline. The queen's army consisted chiefly of a multitude, hastily assembled, without courage or experience in war. The troops of the confederates were composed of gentlemen of rank and reputation, followed by their most trusty dependants, who were no less brave than zealous.

The queen's army was posted to advantage, on a rising ground. The confederates advanced to the attack resolutely, but slowly, and with the caution which was natural on that unhappy field. Her troops were alarmed at their approach, and discovered no inclination to fight. Mary endeavoured to animate them; she wept, she threatened, she reproached them with cowardice, but all in vain. A few of Bothwell's immediate attendants were eager for the encounter; the rest stood wavering and irresolute, and some began to steal out of the field. Bothwell attempted to inspirit them, by offering to decide the quarrel, and to vindicate his own innocence in single combat with any of his adversaries. Kirkaldy of Grange, Murray of Tullibardin, and Lord Lindsay, contended for the honour of entering the lists against him. But this challenge proved to be a mere bravado. Either the consciousness of guilt deprived Bothwell of his wonted courage, or the queen, by her authority, forbade the combat.

After the symptoms of fear discovered by her followers, Mary would have been inexcusable had she hazarded a battle. She demanded an interview with Kirkaldy; and he, with the consent and in the name of the leaders of the party, promised, that,

on condition she would dismiss Bothwell from her presence, and govern the kingdom by the advice of her nobles, they would honour and obey her as their sovereign.

During this parley, Bothwell took his last farewell of the queen, and rode off the field with a few followers. This dismal reverse happened exactly one month after that marriage which had cost him so many crimes to accomplish, and which leaves so foul a stain on Mary's memory.

After his flight from the confederates, Bothwell lurked for some time among his vassals in the neighbourhood of Dunbar. But finding it impossible for him to make head in that country against his enemies, or even to secure himself from their pursuit, he fled for shelter to his kinsman the bishop of Murray; and when he, overawed by the confederates, was obliged to abandon him, he retired to the Orkney Isles. Hunted from place to place, deserted by his friends, and accompanied by a few retainers as desperate as himself, he suffered at once the miseries of infamy and of want. His indigence forced him upon a course which added to his infamy. He armed a few small ships, which had accompanied him from Dunbar, and attacking every vessel which fell in his way, endeavoured to procure subsistence for himself and his followers by piracy. Kirkaldy and Murray of Tullibardin were sent out against him by the confederates; and surprising him while he rode at anchor, scattered his small fleet, took a part of it, and obliged him to fly with a single ship towards Norway. On that coast, he fell in with a vessel richly laden, and immediately attacked it; the Norwegians sailed with armed boats to its assistance, and after a desperate fight, Bothwell and all his crew were taken prisoners. His name and quality were both

unknown, and he was treated at first with all the indignity and rigour which the odious crime of piracy merited. His real character was soon discovered; and though it saved him from the infamous death to which his associates were condemned, it could neither procure him liberty, nor mitigate the hardships of his imprisonment. He languished ten years in this unhappy condition: melancholy and despair deprived him of reason, and at last he ended his days, unpitied by his countrymen, and unassisted by strangers. Few men ever accomplished their ambitious projects by worse means, or reaped from them less satisfaction. The early part of his life was restless and enterprising, full of danger and of vicissitudes. His enjoyment of the grandeur, to which he attained by so many crimes, was extremely short; embittered by much anxiety, and disquieted by many fears. In his latter years he suffered the most intolerable calamities to which the wretched are subject, and from which persons who have moved in so high a sphere are commonly exempted.

DUKE OF NORFOLK.

AT the period when the Scotish and English commissioners were convened to adjust matters between the queen of Scotland and her nobles, Norfolk was the most powerful and most popular man in England. His wife was lately dead; and he began already to form a project, which he afterwards more openly avowed, of mounting the throne of Scotland, by a marriage with the queen of Scots. He saw the infamy which would be the consequence of a public accusation against Mary, and how prejudicial it might be to her pretensions