There was much old tapestry on the walls of the various rooms we inspected in the palace, and although it was now faded we could see that it must have looked very beautiful in its original state.  The tapestry in one room was almost wholly devoted to scenes in which heavenly-looking little boys figured as playing in lovely gardens amidst beautiful scenery.  One of these scenes showed a lake in the background with a castle standing at one end of it.  In the lake were two small islands covered with trees which were reflected in the still waters, while in the front was a large orange tree, growing in a lovely garden, up which some of the little boys had climbed, one of whom was throwing oranges to a companion on the ground below; while two others were enjoying a game of leapfrog, one jumping over the other’s back.  Three other boys were engaged in the fascinating game of blowing bubbles—­one making the lather, another blowing the bubbles, while a third was trying to catch them.  There were also three more boys—­one of them apparently pretending to be a witch, as he was riding on a broomstick, while another was giving a companion a donkey-ride upon his back.  All had the appearance of little cupids or angels and looked so lifelike and happy that we almost wished we were young again and could join them in their play!

The rooms more closely connected with the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots were of course the most interesting to visitors; and in her audience-room, where she had such distressing interviews with John Knox, the famous Presbyterian divine and reformer, we saw the bed that was used by King Charles I when he resided at Holyrood, and afterwards occupied on one occasion, in September 1745, by his descendant Prince Charlie, and again after the battle of Culloden by the Duke of Cumberland.

[Illustration:  WEST DOORWAY, CHAPEL ROYAL.]

We passed on to Queen Mary’s bedroom, in which we were greatly interested, and in spite of its decayed appearance we could see it had been a magnificent apartment.  Its walls were adorned with emblems and initials of former Scottish royalties, and an old tapestry representing the mythological story of the fall of Photon, who, according to the Greeks, lost his life in rashly attempting to drive the chariot of his father the God of the Sun.  Here we saw Queen Mary’s bed, which must have looked superb in its hangings of crimson damask, trimmed with green silk fringes and tassels, when these were new, but now in their decay they seemed to remind us of their former magnificence and of their unfortunate owner, to whom the oft-quoted words

   Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown