My parents at an early age took me to [Rome], where they shortly died, not, however, before they had placed me in the service of a cardinal, with whom I continued some years, and who, when he had no further occasion for me, sent me to the college, in the left-hand cloister of which, as you enter, rest the bones of Sir John D[ereham]; there, in studying logic and humane letters, I lost whatever of humanity I had retained when discarded by the cardinal.

Let me not, however, forget two points,--I am a Fraser, it is true, but not a Flannagan; I may bear the vilest name of Britain, but not of Ireland; I was bred up at the English house, and there is at [Rome] a house for the education of bog-trotters; I was not bred up at that; beneath the lowest gulf, there is one yet lower; whatever my blood may be, it is at least not Irish; whatever my education may have been, I was not bred at the Irish seminary--on those accounts I am thankful--yes, _per dio_! I am thankful.

After some years at college--but why should I tell you my history, you know it already perfectly well, probably much better than myself.

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.