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were more fpacious and and convenient; provided with larger win; dows, and generally had chimnies : they were also more amply ftored with houshold furniture, and with wooden, and sometimes even earthen utensils.

• Still, however, their progress towards civilization is very in: considerable; and many inttances of the groflest barbarism fell under our observation, during the daily intercourse we necessarily maina tained with the peatants. One instance I shall mention because it will serve to show into what a wretched state of ignorance the common peop'e are still plunged, when even the smallest trace of such immoral practices sublifts amongst them. In many families the father marries his son, while a boy of feven, eight, or nine years old, to a girl of a more advanced age, in order, as it is said, to procure an able bodied woman for the domestick service :' he cohabits with this person, now become his daughter-in-law, and frequently has several children by her. In my progress through Ruflia, 1 obferved in fome cottages, as it were, two mistresses of a family, one the peasant's real wite, who was old enough to be his mother, and the other, who was nominally the fon's wife, but in reality, the father's concubine. These incestuous marriages, fanctified by in veterate custom, and permitted by the parish-priests, were formerly more common than they are at present; but as the nation becomes more refined, and the priests fomewhat more enlightened, and as they have lately been discountenanced by government, they are daily falling into difufe ; and it is to be hoped, will be no longer tolerated.”

From the town of Novogorod, antiently a republic under the jurisdiction of a nominal sovereign, we are led by our traveller to Petersburgh the “ object of his wishes and “ the termination of his labours;" he fully justifies Peter the Great in transferring the seat of empire from Mofa cow to St. Petersburgh, describes that new metropolis ; and gives an account of the weather and different customs and diversions ; which we are sorry our limits will not permit us to detail. Mr. Coxe, in the sequel of his first vosume, goes on to describe the fortress of St. Petersburgh, the cathedral, tombs and characters of Peter the Great and of the Imperial family, with a variety of other particulars too nu. merous to be specified. Among there, what is most interefting is, an account of Catharine I. of Russia ; her origin and early adventures. Her marriage to a Swedish dragoon her capture by the Russians,-and finally her becoming the mistress, the confort, and successor of Peter the Great,

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Art. X. The History of Scotland, from the Establilhment of the

Reformation, till the Death of Queen Mary. To which are annexed, Observations concerning the public Law and the Constitution of Scotland. By Gilbert Stuart, Doctor of Laws, and Member of the Society of Antiquarians at Edinburgh. 8vo. 2 vols. 14. Murray. London. 1784.

[Concluded from our lajt.] E have given this article a greater consequence, than

it could naturally have claimed at our hands, because we have in it a fair and impartial representation of Queen Mary's conduct, now presented to the public for the first time. We must however keep our remaining view of this work, within narrower bounds. We Thall therefore pass on nearly to the close of the second volume at once. We shall lay two interesting extracts from that part of the history, before our readers. And then we shall sum up our opinion of the whole in a few words.

• Upon the departure of the two carls,'Shrewsbury and Kent, who had come to acquaint Mary that he was to die the next inorning, her domestics gave a full vent to their afflictions ; and while the experienced a melancholy pleasure in their tears, lamentations, and kindness, she endeavoured to console them. Their grief, she said was altogether unavailing, and could neither better her condition nor their own.

Her caufe had every thing about it that was most honourable, and the miseries from which she was to be relieved, were the most hopeless and the most affiicting. Instead of dejection and sadness, she therefore enjoined them to be contented and happy. That she might have the more leisure to settle her affairs, she supped early; and, according to her ufual custom she eat little. While at table, she remarked to Burgoin, her physician, that the force of truth was infurmountable'; for that the earl of Kent, notwithstanding the pretence of her having conspired against Elizabeth, had plainly informed her, that her death would be the security of their religion. When supper was over, she ordered all her servants to appear before her, and drank to them. They pledged her upon their knees, mingling tears with the wine, and entreating her forgiveness for any offences they had ever committed against her. She condescended in her turn, to beg their pardon for her omnissions or neglects; and ne recommended it to them to love charity, to avoid the unhappy pallions of hatred and malice, and to preferve themselves stedfalt in the faith of Christ. She now considered the inventory of her goods, and jewels, and put down the names of the domefiics to whom she destined them. To her confeffor the fent a letter, entreating the favour of his benediction and prayers. With her own hand the wrote out her teitament, fettling her affairs with great prudence. To the king of France and the duke of Guife she addreffed separate dispatches, in which she recalled to them her misfortunes, asserted her innocence, and pointed out her fervants as proper objects of their generosity. Her son she also mentioned to them, recommending him to their anxious cares, if he should prove worthy of their esteein; but delicately intimating a fear that the course of his conduct might displease them. Having Eng. Rev. Vol. V. Mar. 1785.

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finished these attentions, Me entered her bed-chainber with her wot men; and according to her uniform practice, einployed herself in religious duties, and in reading in the lives of the faints. At her accustomed time she went to fleep; and after enjoying some hours of sound reit, she waked. She then indulged in pious meditation, and partook of the facrament by the means of a confecrated hofte, which a melancholy presentiment of her calamities had induced her to obtain from Pius V.

* At the break of day slie arrayed herself in rich but becoming ap: parel; and calling together her fervants the ordered her will to be read, and apologized for the smallness of her legacies, from her inability to be more generous. Following the arrangement the had previoufly made, the then dealt out to them her goods, wardrobe and jewels. To Burgoin her phyfician, the committed the care of her will, with a charge that he would deliver it to her principal executor the duke of Guise. She also entrusted him with tokens of her attection for the king of France, the queen mother, and her relations of the house of Lorraine. Bidding now an adieu to all wordly concerns, the retired to her oratory, where she was seen sometimes kneeling at the alar, and sometimes Itanding motionless, with her hands joined, and her eyes directed to the heavens. In these tender and agitated moments she was dwelling upon the meinory of her sufferings and her virtues, repofing her weaknesses in the bofom of her God, and lifting and folacing her spirit in the contemplation of his perfections and his merey. While she was thus engaged, Thomas Andrews, the high sheriff of the county, announced to her that the hour of her execution was arrived. She came forth beaning benignity and peace. Her gown was of black filk; her pettycoat was bordered with crimson velvet: a veil of tawn, bowed out with wire, and edged with bonelace, was fastened to her cawle, and hung down to the ground; an Agnus Dei was fufpended from her neck by a pomander chain; her beads were fixed to her girdle : and the bore in her hand a crucifix of ivory. Amiaft the screains and lamentations of her women, the descended the stairs ; and in the porch she was received by the earls of Kent and Shrews bury, with their attendants. Here too she met Sir Andrew Melvil, the master of her household, whom her keepers had debarred from her presence during many days. Throwing himself at her feet, and weeping aloud, he deplored his fad destiny, and the forrowful tidings he was to carry into Scotland. * Lament not, said she, honelt Melvil, but rather exult that thou shalt fee Mary Stuart delivered 66 from all her woes. The world, my good servant, is but vanity; " and an ocean of tears would not fuffice to bewail its forrows. His " therto I have found thee faithful; and though thou be in religion

a protestant, and I am a catholic, yet seeing there is but one Christ, * I charge thee as thou respectest him, to bear this last myeffage front “ me, that I die unfhaken in my religion, and unchanged in my affec" tions to Scotland and France. Tell my son to serve God, to confule * the true interefts of his people, and never to entrúst himself to the

power of another prince. Affure him, that I have never executed any deed prejudicial to his kingdom, liis crowli, or his greatness ;

and admonish him to maintain an amity with Elizabeth.” She added, "O'God! thou who art truth itself! and who readeft the most fe

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cret thoughts of mortals ! thou knowest, that I was ever most

anxiously desirous of the cordial union of the kingdoms of England • and Scotland. Infinite are the injuries which my adversaries have « done me.

They have thirsted for my blood, like the hart that sf panteth for the brook. O God of mercy forgive them.” When she named her son, her eyes were flooded with tears which she could not repress; and the seemed to struggle with a sorrow that the cared not to reveal.

After she had spoken to Melvil, she besought the two earls that her servants might be treated with civility, that they might enjoy the presents the had bestowed upon them, and that they inight receive a lafe conduct to depart out of the dominions of Elizabeth. These flight favours were readily granted her. She then begged, that they might be permitted to attend her to the scatfold, in order that they might be witnetses of her behaviour at her death. To this request the earl of Kent discovered a strong reluctance. He said that they would behave with an intemperate paffion, and that they would practife fuperstitious formalities, and dip their handkerchiefs in her blood. She replied, that she was sure that none of their actions would be blameable ; and that it was but decent that fome of her women should be about her. The earl still hesitating, she was affected with the infolent and Itupid indignity, of his malice, and exclaimed, “I am cousin

to your mistress, and descended from Henry VII. I am a dowager " of France, and the anointed queen of Scotland." The earl of Shrewsbury interposing, it was agreed, that the should select two of her women, who might aslift her in her last moments, and a few of her men servants, who might behold her demeanour, and report it.

“She entered the hall where she was to suffer, and advanced with an air of grace and majesty to the scaffold, which was built at its farthest extremity. The spectators were numerous. Her magnanimous car. riage, her beauty, of which the lustre was yet dazzling, and her matchless misfortunes, affected them. They gave way to contending emotions of awe, admiration, and pity. Śhe ascended the scaffolå with a firm step and a serene aspect, and turned her eye to the block, the axe, and the executioners. The fpectators were dissolved in tears. A chair was placed for her in which she feated herself. Si lence was commanded ; and Beale read aloud the warrant for her death. She heard it attentively, yet with a manner from which it might be gathered, that her thoughts were employed upon a subject more important. Dr. Fletcher, dean of Peterborough, taking his ftation opposite to her without the rails of the scaffold began a di!course upon her life past, present, and to come. He affected to enumerate her trespaffes against Elizabeth, and to describe the love and tenderness which that princess had hewn to her. He counselled her to repent of her crimes; and while he inveighed against her attachment to popery, he threatened her with everlasting fire, if the should delay to renounce its errors. His behaviour was indecent and coarfe in the greatest degree, and while he meant to insult her, he'insulted fill more the religion which she profeffed, and the fovereign whorn be flattered. Twice she interrupted him with great gentleness. But he pertinacioufly continued his exhortations. Raifing her voice, she commanded him with a resolute tone to withold his indignities and

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menaces, and not to trouble her any more about her faith.
“ born, said she, in the Roman Catholic religion ; I have expe-
16 rienced its comforts during my life, in the trying feasons of sick-
“ ness, calamity, and sorrow; and I am resolved to die in it.” The
two earls ashamed of the savage obstinacy of his deportment, all
monithed him to defit from his speeches, and to content himself
with praying for her conversion. He entered upon a loog prayer ;
and Mary falling upon her knees, and disregarding him altogether,
employed herself in devotions from the office of the Virgin. She
arole; and after waiting till the dean had concluded his prayer, the
again kneeled, and in an audible voice expreffed her unlimited for-
giveness of all her enemies, recommended the church, her son, and
queen Elizabeth, to the protection of God, and implored the saints
to intercede with him in ber behalf. Carrying now her crucifix to
her lips, the pretted it devoutly to them, and then looking upon it
eagerly, she exclaimed, “O Christ! thou wert extended on the cross
" to save mankind when they were lost. Pardon my transgressions,
“ and stretch out thy arms to receive me in mercy." The earl of
Kent offended with her reverence for the crueifix, desired her to have
Christ in her heart and not in her hand. She mildly answered that
she held his image in her hand that her imagination might be impreff-
ed with the livelier sensibility of his passion, and that her heart might
be touched and penetrated with the greater compunction and grati-
tude.

Her women now aflisted herto difrobe ; and the executioners offering their aid, flie repressed their forwardness, by observing that she was not accustomed to be attended by such fervants, nor to be un. dreiled before fo large an állembly. Her upper garments being laid aside, she drew upon her arms a pair of filk gloves. Her women and men fervants burst out into loud lamentations. She put her finger to her mouth to admonish them to be silent, and then bade them a final adieu with a smile, that seemed to console, but that plunged them into deeper woe. She kneeled resolutely before the block, and said, * In thee, O Lord! do I trust, let me never be confounded.” She covered her eyes with a linen handkerchief in which the eucharist had been enclosed; and stretching forth her body with great tranquillity, and fitting her neck for the fatal stroke, she called out, " Into thy hands, O God! I commit my spirit,” The executioner with design, from untkilfulness, or from inquietude, struck three blows before he separated her head from her body. He held it up mangled with wounds and streaming with blood ; and her hair being discomposed, was discovered to be already gray with afflitions and anxieties. The dean of Peterborough alone cried out,

"So let the enemies of Elizabeth perith.” The earl of Kent alone, in a low voice answered “ Amen." All the other spectators were, melted down with the the tenderest iympathy and forrow.

Her women hastened to protect her dead body from the curiosity of the spectators, and folaced themselves with the thoughts of mourn ing over it undisturbed when they should retire, and of laying it out in its funeral garb. But the two earls prohibited them from dif., charging these melancholy yet pleasing offices to their departed miftress, and chased them from the hall with indignity. Burgoin her

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