Dear James. Very soon I am going to die, and meet my God. Before I die, I want to write the true story of my life for you. Everything that I write here is true-I cannot lie to you, or to God. Please believe that, James. It's impor -- tant to me.

When he died I was very unhappy, and my life was very different. There was a new King and Queen, and I wasn't important in France, any more. But I was still Queen of Scots, so I came back to Scotland. When I arrived in Scotland, I was a young girl of eighteen. My mother was dead, and there was no one there to meet me. I walked off the ship, and I slept in a little house near the sea.

My father died when I was one week old, so I was the Queen of Scots when I was a baby. At first I lived with my mother in Scotland, and then, when I was five, I went to France. My mother was French, but she stayed in Scotland, and died there.

I was very happy in France. Francis, my husband, was like a little brother to me. I think he loved me, bur he was very young, and he was often ill. And then, in 1560, he died. He was sixteen years old.

I went to France to marry the King of France's son. His name was Francis, and he was one year younger than me. In 1559, his father died, so Francis was King. Then I was Queen of France, and Queen of Scotland too.

James, my son, you are a Protestant and I am a Catholic. You are a good man, and you love God, but your church and my church are enemies. I was born a Catholic, and I am going to die a Catholic. I love God, too-I hope you understand that. I'm not going to change now.

That Sunday, people shouted angrily in the streets.'Your Majesty,'said the Scots lords.'Scotland is a Protestant coun-try. You can't go to a Catholic church here. The Scottish people don't like Catholics.'

Next day, the Scots lords came from Edinburgh. They were pleased to see me, and for a week everyone was happy. People smiled at me and sang in the streets. I think everyone liked me. Then, that Sunday, I went to church.

'I'm sorry, my lords,'I said.'But I am your Queen-no one tells me what to do. I don't hate Protestants, and I'm not going to kill them. The people can go to their Protestant churches, and pray to God there. But I'm going to pray with Catholics, in my church.'

People were angry because of that. A man called John Knox came to see me. He was a famous Protestant churchman, but I didn't like him. He was a big, angry man with black clothes. He hated the Catholic church, and wanted all Catholics to leave Scotland. To him, the Protestant church was the only true church of God. He said:'Your Majesty, you're a young woman, like my daughter. Women can't understand difficult 10things like God or the church. Find a good Protestant husband, girl. Let him rule this country for you.'

He was right about one thing. Perhaps I could rule Scotland without a man, but I could not have a child without one. And every Queen needs a son or daughter to come after her. So I began to look for a husband

I was very angry with this man Knox. I was a Queen, but I was only eighteen. He didn't talk quietly-he shouted at me. I cried because of his angry words. I could not understand him-he talked so much, and he knew so many books. But I did not go to his church.