THE CASTLE. 69
" Hours, or ages, are nothing to the Eternal ; but as for man, they fix his changeless doom for weal or for woe."
This structure, which we spent a considerable time in examining, claims Edward the Third as its founder. It gave shelter, for a night, to his unfortunate grandson, Kiclmrd the Second, while on his humiliating journey in the custody of his usurping and vindictive cousin, after wards Henry the Fourth. Here, also, Fergus Maclvor endured imprisonment, and was led forth to execution. They profess to show the print of his hand, in stone of rather a soft texture, which lines the walls of his cell.
Other mournful recollections of the " sighing of the prisoner," connect this edifice with Mary of Scotland. We visited the remains of the turret where she was immured, when, after the disastrous battle of Langside, she threw herself on the generosity of her royal cousin of England. In a secluded promenade, skirted by a moat, she was permitted to take daily exercise, under the guardianship of sentinels. Two ash trees marked its extreme limit. They were said to have been planted by her own hand. They attained such a size, as to rank among the largest trees of Cumberland, and the antiquarian cannot but regret that they should have been cut down for some architectural improve ment. A bouquet of carnations, from this queenly tread mill, was presented us, which retained much of their freshness and fragrance even after we reached the realm of which she once wore the troubled crown. The guide from whom we obtained them, pointed
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