I am now a missionary priest, labouring in heretic England, like Parsons and Garnet of old, save and except that, unlike them, I run no danger, for the times are changed.

As I told you before, I shall cleave to Rome--I must; _no hay remedio_, as they say at Madrid, and I will do my best to further her holy plans--he! he!--but I confess I begin to doubt of their being successful here--you put me out; old Fraser, of Lovat! I have heard my father talk of him; he had a gold-headed cane, with which he once knocked my grandfather down--he was an astute one, but, as you say, mistaken, particularly in himself.

I have read his life by Arbuthnot, it is in the library of our college.

Farewell! I shall come no more to this dingle--to come would be of no utility; I shall go and labour elsewhere, though--how you came to know my name, is a fact quite inexplicable--farewell! to you both." He then arose; and without further salutation departed from the dingle, in which I never saw him again.

"How, in the name of wonder, came you to know that man's name ?" said Belle, after he had been gone some time.
"I, Belle?
I knew nothing of the fellow's name, I assure you." "But you mentioned his name." "If I did, it was merely casually, by way of illustration.