It is said, that after she was embarked at Calais, she kept her eyes fixed on the coast of France, and never turned them from that beloved object till darkness fell, and intercepted it from her view.

She then ordered a couch to be spread for her in the open air; and charged the pilot, that, if in the morning the land were still in sight, he should awake her, and afford her one parting view of that country in which all her affections were centred.

The weather proved calm, so that the ship made little way in the night-time; and Mary had once more an opportunity of seeing the French coast.

She sat up on her couch, and still looking towards the land, often repeated these words: "Farewell, France, farewell, I shall never see thee more."[*] The first aspect, however, of things in Scotland was more favorable, if not to her pleasure and happiness, at least to her repose and security, than she had reason to apprehend.

No sooner did the French galleys appear off Leith, than people of all ranks, who had long expected their arrival, flocked towards the shore with an earnest impatience to behold and receive their young sovereign.