an all the world for us?" When asked,
"Of what particular sort of Catholic are you? A Jesuit?" He answered to
the nobleman who inquired, (and whose name was not known,) "No, no, my
Lord, I am a Jansenist;" he then avowed his intimacy with that body of
men, and assured the nobleman, that in _his_ sense of being a Roman
Catholic, he "was as far from being one as his Lordship, or as any other
nobleman in the House."

"This is my faith," he observed on another occasion, after affirming
that he had studied controversy for three years, and then turned Roman
Catholic; "but I have charity for all mankind, and I believe every
honest man bids fair for Heaven, let his persuasion be what it may; for
the mercies of the Almighty are great, and his ways past finding out."

The allusion to his funeral had something touching, coming from the old
Highland chieftain. Almost the solitary good trait in Lovat's character
was the fondness for his Highland home--a pride in his clan--a yearning
to the last for the mountains, the straths, the burns, now ravaged by
the despoiler, and red with the blood of the Frasers. "Bury me," he
said, "in my own tomb in the church of Kirk Hill; in former days, I had
made a codicil to my will, that all the pipers from John O'Groat's house
to Edinburgh should be invited to play at my funeral: that may not be
now--but still I am sure there will be some good old Highland women to
sing a coronach at my funeral; and there will be a crying and clapping
of hands--for I am one of the greatest of the Highland chieftains." The
circumstance which gave him the most uneasiness was the bill then
depending for destroying the ancient privileges and jurisdiction of the
Highland chiefs. "For my part," he exclaimed, when referring to the
measure, "I die a martyr to my country."

He became much attached to one of his warders, and the usual influence
which he seems to have possessed over every being with whom he came into
collision, attracted the regards of this man to him. "Go with me to the
scaffold," said Lovat--"and leave me not till you see this head cut off
the body. Tell my son, the Master of Lovat, with what tenderness I have
parted from you." "Do you think," he exclaimed, on the man's expressing
some sympathy with his approaching fate, "I am afraid of an axe? 'Tis a
debt we all owe, and what we must all pay; and do you not think it
better to go off so, than to linger with a fever, gout, or consumption?
Though my constitu