sudden brawls when neither would concede the "crown of the causeway."
But the townsfolk seldom did more than look on, with perhaps an
ill-concealed satisfaction in the wounds inflicted by their natural
opponents upon each other. On this occasion, however, the tumult was a
popular one, involving the interests of the citizens; and it is
difficult to believe that the inclinations of the townsfolk would not
rather lean towards the Queen, a woman of wealth and stately
surroundings, likely to entertain princes and great personages and to
fill Edinburgh with the splendour of a Court, than to the prelate,
although his tastes also were magnificent, whose metropolis was not
Edinburgh but St. Andrews, and who might consider frugality and sobriety
the best qualities for the Court of a minor. At all events the crowd had
risen and was ripe for tumult, when Bishop Kennedy persuaded them to
pause, and reminded them of the mutual forbearance and patience and
quiet which was above all necessary at such a troublous time. Other
prelates would seem to have been in his train, for we are told it was
the intercessions and explanations of "the bishops" which prevented the
tumult from rising into a fight. The parties would seem to have been so
strong, and so evenly divided, that the question was finally solved by a
compromise, Parliament appointing a council of guardians, two on each
side: Seaton and Boyd for the Queen; John Kennedy, brother of the
Bishop, and the Earl of Orkney, for the others--an experiment which was
no more successful than in the previous minority.

The Queen-mother had soon, however, something to occupy her leisure in
the visit, if visit it can be called, of Henry VI and his Queen and
household, fugitives before the victorious party of York, who had sought
refuge from the Scots, and lodging for a thousand attendants--a request
which was granted, and the convent of the Greyfriars allotted to them as
their residence. The Queen at the Castle would thus be a near neighbour
of the royal fugitives, and it is interesting to think of the meeting,
the sympathy and mutual condolences of the two women. Margaret, the
fervid Provencal, with her passionate sense of wrong and restless
energy, and the hopeless task she had of maintaining and inspiring to
play his part with any dignity her too patient and gentle king; and
Mary, the fair and placid Fleming, stung too in her pride and affections
by the refusal of the regency, and her subordina