circumstances which we are about to relate occurred, and which ended in the tragic and untimely death of the 'bonnie Earl of Moray.' The real grounds of this feud consisted in the claims of the Gordon family to the possession of the earldom of Moray, of which they had been deprived when it was bestowed by Queen Mary upon the Regent. This deep-seated cause of dissension had been long gathering strength from the minor animosities which arose out of it, and in particular was aggravated by an act of the Earl of Moray, which it is impossible to justify. In his capacity as sheriff, the Earl of Huntly endeavoured to bring to justice a person accused of violating the laws of the land. This felon was taken into protection by Moray, for some reason which is not recorded. Huntly, it may well be supposed, was highly displeased at this, and with a party of men proceeded to Moray's castle of Darnaway, for the purpose of getting possession of the felon's person. This expedition unfortunately terminated in widening the breach between the noblemen. John Gordon, a brother of Gordon of Cluny, and then in attendance on Huntly, was killed by a shot from the Earl of Moray's castle. Whether Moray was personally blamed for this act, does not appear; certain it is, however, that the hostility between the two families assumed from that hour a more decided character than it had ever worn before.

This event took place a short time previous to the year 1591, and was not immediately followed by any further exhibition of animosity. In the meantime, Campbell of Calder, a friend of Moray, became an object of hostility to certain of the principal men of the Campbell family, on account of his being preferred as tutor of the young Earl of Argyll. Uniting in purpose with these men, Huntly formed a concerted scheme, in which, strange to say, the Chancellor of the kingdom, Lord Thirlstain, concurred, for taking off Moray and Campbell of Calder by one sweep of vengeance. The late Mr

Donald Gregory, in his work on the Highlands, for the first time exposed the particulars of this double plot, than which nothing could be more strikingly illustrative of the character of a time when the highest men in the kingdom, so far from setting an example for the observance of the laws which they made, thought themselves at liberty on all occasions to violate them at their pleasure. By persuading the king that Moray had been concerned in the conspiracy of the turbulent Earl of Bothwell, Huntly obtained a commission to apprehend Moray, and bring him to Edinburgh for trial.

On the afternoon of the 8th of February 1591-2, Huntly, attended by a strong body of horse, set out from the house of the provost of Edinburgh, where the king then lodged for security. The object of the journey, Huntly gave out, was to attend upon a horse-race at Leith; instead of which, he turned to the westward, and directed his course across the Queensferry to Dunnibrissle House, where he understood the Earl of Moray to have taken up his residence for

a time with his mother. About midnight, Huntly reached his destination. He surrounded the house with his men, and summoned Moray to surrender. Even had this been complied with immediately, the same consequences, it is clear, would have ensued, Huntly's determination being fixed. The enemy of himself and his House knocking at his gates at the dead of night-encompassing the walls with armed and vindictive retainers-such a summons as this was not one from which the young earl could expect moderation or justice to follow. He resolved to defend the house to the death. A gun, fired from within, mortally wounded one of the Gordons, and the passions of the assailants and their leader were excited to the highest pitch. To force an entrance, they set fire to the doors, and the house seemed to be on the point of being enveloped in flames. In this emergency, Moray took counsel with his friend Dunbar, sheriff of the county, who chanced to be with him on that night. 'Let us not stay,' said Dunbar, 'to be burned in the flaming house I will go out foremost, and the Gordons, taking me for your lordship, will kill me, while you escape in the confusion.' After giving utterance to this noble offer, the generous Dunbar did not hesitate an instant, but threw himself among the assailants, and fell immediately, as he had anticipated, beneath their swords. At first, it seemed as if this act of heroic devotion would have accomplished its purpose. The young earl had passed out immediately after his friend, and had the fortune to escape through the ranks of the Gordons. He directed his flight to the rocks of the neighbouring beach, and most probably would have got off in the darkness, had not his path been pointed out to his foes by the silken tassels of his helmet, which had caught fire as he passed out through the flames of the house. A headstrong and revengeful cadet of the Huntly family, Gordon of Buckie, was the first, it is said, who overtook the fleeing earl, and wounded him mortally. While Moray lay in the throes of death at the feet of his ruthless murderer, Huntly himself came up to the spot, when Buckie exclaiming: 'By Heaven, my lord, you shall be as deep in as I,' forced his chief to strike the dying man. 'Huntly,' says Sir Walter Scott, 'with a wavering hand, struck the expiring earl in the face. Mindful of his superior beauty even in that moment of parting life, Moray stammered out the dying words: "You have spoiled a better face than your own."

The perpetrators of this barbarous deed hurried from the scene, leaving the corpse of the earl lying on the beach, and the house of Dunnibrissle in flames. Though but little afraid of any consequences that might ensue, Huntly did not choose to return to Edinburgh to be the narrator of what had passed. The messenger he chose for this purpose, strange to say, was no other than the person on whom the deepest share of guilt lay-Gordon of Buckie. This bold man hesitated not to fulfil his chief's commands. He rode post to the king's presence, and informed his majesty of all that

had occurred.

Finding, however, that the night's work was not likely to acquire its doers any credit, he left the city as hastily as he had entered it. By some, it is supposed that Gordon could not have seen the king, who had gone out at an early hour to hunt. It is known at least that, with apparent unconsciousness of the deed that had been perpetrated, James pursued his sport for several hours in the early part of that day. On his return to the city, his majesty found the streets filled with lamentations for the murder of Moray, and strong suspicions entertained that he himself had authorised Huntly to perpetrate the deed. Dunnibrissle House being visible from the grounds of Inverleith and Wardie, it was alleged that the king must have seen the smoking ruins in his hunting; nay, that he had chosen that quarter for his sport, on purpose to gratify his eye with the spectacle.

The popularity of the late earl, on account of his personal qualities, and as a leading Presbyterian, rendered the people blindly severe for the moment to James, whom there is no real cause for supposing accessory to the guilt of the Gordons. The fact of the conspiracy which we have already mentioned at length, is almost a positive exculpation of the king. In a fine old ballad, it is said that Moray 'was the queen's luve. A traditionary anecdote is the only support which the ballad receives for a circumstance utterly discredited by history. James, says the story, found the Earl of Moray sleeping one day in an arbour with a ribbon about his neck which his majesty had given to the queen. On seeking her majesty's presence, the king found the ribbon on her neck, and was convinced that he had mistaken one ribbon for another. But, continues the story, the ribbon worn by Moray was in truth the queen's, and had been only restored to her in time to blind his majesty, by the agency of some one who had noticed the king's jealous observation of Moray asleep.

To return, however, from tradition to history. The ferment caused in Edinburgh by the news of Moray's death was aggravated tenfold when, on the same day, Lady Doune, mother of the ill-fated nobleman, arrived at Leith in a boat, carrying with her the bodies of her son and his devoted friend Dunbar. The mourning lady took this step in order to stimulate the vengeance of the laws against the murderers of her son. When the news reached the king that Lady Doune was about to expose the mangled bodies to the gaze of the multitude, he forbade the bodies to be brought into the city, conceiving justly that the spectacle was not only an unseemly one, but that the populace were excited enough already. Defeated in her first wish, Lady Doune caused a picture to be drawn of her son's remains, and enclosing it in a piece of lawn cloth, she brought it to the king, uncovered it before him, and with vehement lamentations cried for justice on the slayers of 'her beautiful! her brave!' She then took out three bullets found in Moray's body, one of which she

gave to the king, another to one of his nobles, and the third she reserved to herself, 'to be bestowed on him who should hinder justice !'

As far as he could, James fulfilled the demands of justice, though the times would not permit him to punish the leaders. Two servants of Huntly were executed for the deed; but the earl himself had fled to the north, where he was much more powerful than James, king of Scotland as the latter was. After some time, however, to recover the royal favour-which, to his credit, James obstinately withheld till some atonement was made-Huntly surrendered himself, and was confined for a time in Blackness Castle. He was not brought to any trial, and was liberated on bail. Gordon of Buckie, the true murderer, lived for nearly fifty years after Moray's death, and in his latter days expressed great contrition for the act of which he had been guilty. From punishment by the hand of man, the unsettled state of society and of the laws succeeded in screening him.

Nearly at the same time with Moray's death, Campbell of Calder fell by the hand of an assassin. The young Earl of Argyll fortunately escaped the snares of the conspirators.

Such is the story of one of the numberless feudal quarrels and deeds of violence which disfigure the history of Scotland, and to which it is instructive, though painful, to look back from these comparatively peaceful and happy times.

AN INCIDENT IN THE QUEENSBERRY FAMILY. MORE than a century ago flourished the famous Kitty Hyde, Duchess of Queensberry, 'charming, gay, and young,' the friend of Gay, and the same of whom he said:

'Yonder I see the cheerful duchess stand,

For friendship, zeal, and blithesome humours known.'

This lady is well remembered by all who have read aught of song and story, and that class is happily a wide one nowadays. The majority of the anecdotes told of the eccentric duchess are of a humorous character; but all are not of this order. She was concerned, at one period of her life, in a most melancholy tragedy, and this is the matter which we wish at present to speak about.

'Don't speak to me of the Mackays!' said the duchess one day to her husband in very peremptory tones: a poor commoner's daughter to sit in my shoes, and wed the heir of the House of Queensberry, one of the first matches in the land! I will have no Mackays.'

'Ay, my dear,' returned the duke, 'but Drumlanrig is no child, and you may find it difficult to bring him round to your opinions on this subject.'

'Pooh, pooh! my lord duke; I think I have managed more difficult concerns in my day,' returned the opinionative duchess, who had seldom known what it was to be thwarted in anything she took into her head. Just let your Grace promise not to interfere with my proceedings, and I promise you that this silly heir of ours shall marry the lady whom I have chosen for him, and of whom you approve.'

6

Well, my dear, I shall not meddle in the matter,' replied the meek husband, as I certainly would prefer his union with Lady Elizabeth Hope; but not at the expense of his happiness. Act fairly, my lady; convince and convert him, if you can; but all by fair means, and fair means only.'

6 Fair means!' muttered the duchess, as her husband walked away: 'all means are fair where the end in view is to cure a foolish boy of an unworthy fancy. Mackay, truly!'

The conversation here related took place at Drumlanrig Castle, the magnificent seat of the Queensberry family in Dumfriesshire. As may be understood, the eldest son of the self-willed duchess, Henry, Lord Drumlanrig, had fixed his affections on a Miss Mackay, a lady of respectable though not elevated station, and of great beauty and accomplishments. She returned, with equal ardour, the passion of the young nobleman, and a correspondence was carried on between them of a very affectionate nature. But when Lord Drumlanrig informed his parents of his attachment, one of them, as we have seen, was anything but pleased to hear of the circumstance. The duchess had already settled decisively in her own mind that Lady Elizabeth Hope, eldest daughter of the Earl of Hopetoun, and no one else, should wed her son. What steps she took to bring this match about must now be told.

Lord Drumlanrig was at home with his parents. Miss Mackay was resident at a great distance from him, but her letters formed a cherished source of consolation. That consolation, however, was not destined to be lasting. The letters of the lady were discontinued, and no entreaty that he could use in his own had the effect of causing a renewal of her communications. The poor young nobleman was almost distracted with this loss of favour, for the obstinate silence of Miss Mackay seemed to him attributable to no other cause. Yet on this point his sentiments underwent many changes. Remembering how sincere seemed to be her attachment, he at one moment entertained hopes that all would be cleared up, and that some accident had caused the temporary cessation of her letters. At another period, he saw no way of explaining the matter, excepting by supposing her faithless. This was the ultimate conviction which he reached; and it brought great anguish along with it. If there remained a glimmer of hope in his mind, it was dispelled by tidings received from the duchess his mother. She came to him one day with a letter in her hand. Stupid boy!' said she, in tones that