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--a house for the
education of bogtrotters; 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. I have read
his life by Arbuthnot, it is in the library of our college.
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