FLORAL CUSTOMS, SUPERSTITIONS, AND HISTORIES. 233 



tered wrecks and lifeless bodies, uprooted the old tree. And so 

 perished, while yet beautiful and vigorous, " Queen Mary's thorn." 



Tradition tells that, when in childhood, the " good regent," Murray, 

 was at play with his half-sister, Mary Stuart, the future rivals deter- 

 mined, in their childish sport, to plant each a favourite tree ; and the 

 growths of these were to be regarded, respectively, as omens of their 

 future destinies. Mary selected her favourite plant, a hawthorn, of 

 which she planted several others during her life. James Stuart, 

 the future regent, chose for his representative a hardy young oak. 

 When next the young queen rambled at Duddingstone, she sought out 

 the rival plants, and rejoiced to find that her own hawthorn alone 

 remained, which she deemed a fair foreshadowing of future happiness 

 and prosperity. Alas ! for the futility of earthly hopes ; while Mary 

 was rejoicing and dreaming of a bright future of glory and greatness, 

 the news came to her that she must leave the scenes of her childhood, 

 and become an exile in the court of France, there to seek new ties 

 and state alliances. She flung herself down upon the green turf 

 beside her much-loved hawthorn tree, and gave expression to her 

 grief in burning tears. That burst of impassioned grief, enough 

 almost to rend her young heart, when about to bid a long farewell to 

 the cherished scenes of her childhood, was indeed a true harbinger of 

 the long life of suffering and sorrow, which was to end upon the 

 block -at Fotheringay. Another memorial of Mary Stuart is the 

 TVinfield Oak, which stands beside the grey old towers of Winfield 

 Castle. Here the unhappy queen pined in solitude and woe for the 

 space of nine years, under the iron rule of her stern jailer, the 

 Countess of Shrewsbury. The grey mossy towers of "Winfield Castle 

 are clothed with matted and interwoven clusters of green ivy, and 

 the crumbling walls, now falling into ruins, possess sublime and me- 

 lancholy beauty, and tell many sad tales of the past. A projecting 

 building, on the right of the Castle-keep, is still called Queen Mary's 

 Tower. Here the imprisoned queen resided, and here she gave ex- 

 pression to the anguish of her heart ; and here she watched day by 

 day, for the signals of her long-tried and faithful adherent, Leonard 

 Dacre, during his numerous attempts to aid her escape, and in which 

 he was never successful. After an imprisonment of eighteen years, 

 the poor captive was laid in that narrow cell, the last home of all, 

 where the weary are at rest, and the broken-hearted lie in peace. 



It would be impossible for us to pass unnoticed one of the most 



