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.

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