TOO MUCH AND TOO LITTLE.

I AM a humble cousin to two sisters, who, though they are good humoured, good sort of people, and (all things considered) behave to me tolerably well; yet their manners and dispositions are so extremely opposite, that the task of pleasing them is rendered very difficult and troublesome. The elder of my cousins is a very lively girl, and so great an enemy to all kinds of form, that yo seldom see her with so much as a pin in her gown; while the younger, who thinks in her heart that her sister is no better than a slattern, runs into the contrary extreme, and is in every thing she does an absolute fid-fad. She takes up almost as much time to put on her gown as her sister does to dirty one. The elder is too thoughtless to remember what she is to do, and the other is so tedious in doing it, that the time is always elapsed in which it was necessary for it to be done. If you lend any thing to the elder, you are sure of having it lost; or if you would borrow any thing of the younger, it is odds but she refuses it, from an opinion, that you will be less careful of it than herself. Whatever work is done by one sister is too slight to hang together for an hour's wear; and whatever is undertaken by the other is generally too nice and curious to be finished.

As they are constantly bed-fellows, the first sleep of the elder is sure to be broken by the younger, whose usual time of undressing and folding up her clothes is at least an hour and a half, allowing a third part of that time for hindrances, occasioned by her elder sister's things, which lie scattered everywhere in her way..

If they had lovers, I know exactly how it would be: theelder would lose hers by saying Yes too soon, and the younger by saying No too often. If they were wives, the one would be too hasty to do any thing right, and the other too tedious to do any thing pleasing: or, were they

mothers, the daughters of the elder would be playing at taw with the boys, and the sons of the younger dressing dolls with the misses. WORLD.

EXECUTION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOT

LAND.

ON Tuesday the 7th of February, 1587, the earls of Shrewsbury and Kent arrived at Fotheringay, and demanded access to the queen, read in her presence the warrant for execution, and required her to prepare to die next morning. Mary heard them to the end without emotion, and crossing herself in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, "That soul," said she, “is not worthy the joys of Heaven, which repines because the body must endure the stroke of the executioner; and, though I did not expect that the queen of England would şet the first example of violating the sacred person of a sovereign prince, I willingly submit to that which Providence has decreed to be my lot;" and laying her hand on a Bible, which happened to be near her, she solemnly protested, that she was innocent of that conspiracy, which Ba- · bington had carried on against Elizabeth's life. She then mentioned the requests contained in her letter to Elizabeth, but obtained no satisfactory answer. She entreated, with particular earnestness, that now, her almoner might be suffered to attend her, and that she might enjoy the consolation of those pious institutions prescribed by her religion. Even this favour, which is usually granted to the vilest criminal, was absolutely denied.

in her last moments,

Her attendants, during this conversation, were bathed in tears, and, though overawed by the presence of the two earls, with difficulty suppressed their anguish; but no sooner did Kent and Shrewsbury withdraw, than they ran to their mistress, and burst out into the most passionate expressions of tenderness and sorrow. Mary, however, not

only retained perfect composure of mind herself, but endeavoured to moderate their excessive grief; and, falling on her knees, with all her domestics round her, she thanked Heaven that her sufferings were now so near an end, and prayed, that she might be enabled to endure what still remained with decency and with fortitude. The greater part of the evening she employed in settling her worldly affairs. She wrote her testament with her own hand. Her money, her jewels, and her clothes, she distributed among her servants, according to their rank or merit. She wrote a short letter to the king of France, and another to the duke of Guise, full of tender but magnanimous sentiments, and recommended her soul to their prayers, and her afflicted servants to their protection. At supper she ate temperately, as usual, and conversed not only with ease but with cheerfulness; she drank to every one of her servants, and asked their forgiveness, if ever she had failed in any part of her duty towards them. At her wonted time she went to bed, and slept calmly a few hours. Early in the morning she retired into her closet, and employed a considerable time in devotion. At eight o'clock the high sheriff and his officers entered her chamber, and found her still kneeling at the altar. She immediately started up, and with a majestić mien, and a countenance undismayed, and even cheerful, advanced towards the place of execution, leaning on two of Paulet's attendants. She was dressed in a mourning habit, but with an elegance and splendour which she had long lain aside, except on a few festival days. An Agnus Dei hung by a pomander chain at her neck; her beads at her girdle; and in her hand she carried a crucifix of ivory. At the bottom of the stairs the two earls, attended by several gentlemen from the neighbouring counties, received her; and there sir Andrew Melvil, the master of her household, who had been se cluded for some weeks from her presence, was permitted to take his last farewell. At the sight of a mistress, whom he

tenderly loved, in such a situation, he melted into tears; and, as he was bewailing her condition, and complaining of his own hard fate, in being appointed to carry the account of such a mournful event into Scotland, Mary replied, Weep not, good Melvil, there is at present great cause for rejoicing. Thou shalt this day see Mary Stewart de livered from all her cares, and such an end put to her te dious sufferings, as she has long expected. Bear witness, that I die constant in my religion; firm in my fidelity towards Scotland; and unchanged in my affection to France. Commend me to my son. Tell him I have done nothing injurious to his kingdom, to his honour, or to his rights; and God forgive all those who have thirsted, without cause, for my blood."

With much difficulty, and after many entreaties, she prevailed on the two earls to allow Melvil, together with three of her men servants and two of her maids, to attend her to the scaffold. It was erected in the same hall where she had been tried, raised a little above the floor, and covered, as well as a chair, the cushion, and block, with black cloth. Mary mounted the steps with alacrity, beheld all this apparatus of death with an unaltered countenance, and, signing herself with the cross, she sat down in the chair. Beale read the warrant for execution with a loud voice, to which she listened with a careless air, and like one occupied in other thoughts. Then the dean of Peterborough began a devout discourse, suitable to her present condition, and offered up prayers to Heaven in her behalf; but she declared, that she could not in conscience hearken to the one, nor join with the other; and, kneeling down, repeated a Latin prayer. When the dean had finished his devotions, she, with an audible voice, and in the English tongue, recommended unto God the afflicted state of the church, and prayed for prosperity to her son, and for a long life and peaceable reign to Elizabeth. She declared, that she hoped for mercy only through the

death of Christ, at the foot of whose image she now willingly shed her blood; and lifting up and kissing the crucifix, she thus addressed it: “As thy arms, O Jesus, were extended on the cross, so with the outstretched arms of thy mercy receive me, and forgive my sins."

She then prepared for the block, by taking off her veil and upper garments; and one of the executioners rudely endeavouring to assist, she gently checked him, and said, with a smile, that she had not been accustomed to undress before so many spectators, nor to be served by such valets. With calm but undaunted fortitude, she laid her neck on the block; and while one executioner held her hands, the other, at the second stroke, cut off her head, which, falling out of it's attire, discovered her hair, already grown quite gray with cares and sorrows. The executioner held it up still streaming with blood, and the dean crying out, "So perish all queen Elizabeth's enemies," the earl of Kent alone answered Amen. The rest of the spectators continued silent, and drowned in tears; being incapable, at that moment, of any other sentiments, but those of pity or admiration.

Such was the tragical death of Mary queen of Scots, after a life of forty-four years and two months, almost nineteen years of which she passed in captivity.

None of her women were suffered to come near her dead body, which was carried into a room adjoining to the place of execution, where it lay for some days, covered with a coarse cloth torn from a billiard table. The block, the scaffold, the aprons of the executioners, and every thing stained with her blood, were reduced to ashes. Not long after, Elizabeth appointed her body to be buried in the cathedral of Peterborough with royal magnificence. But this vulgar artifice was employed in vain! the pageantry of a pompous funeral did not efface the memory of those injuries, which laid Mary in her grave. James,