This worthy, in his
last will, bequeathed his heart to England--his right arm to
Scotland--and his bowels to Ireland. What the English and Scotch
said to their respective bequests is not known, but it is certain
that an old Irish priest, supposed to have been a great-grand-uncle
of the present Reverend Father Murtagh, on hearing of the bequest
to Ireland, fell into a great passion, and having been brought up
at "Paris and Salamanca," expressed his indignation in the
following strain:- "Malditas sean tus tripas! teniamos bastante del
olor de tus tripas al tiempo de tu nuida dela batalla del Boyne!"
His son, generally called the Old Pretender, though born in
England, was carried in his infancy to France, where he was brought
up in the strictest principles of Popery, which principles,
however, did not prevent him becoming (when did they ever prevent
any one?) a worthless and profligate scoundrel; there are some
doubts as to the reality of his being a son of James, which doubts
are probably unfounded, the grand proof of his legitimacy being the
thorough baseness of his character. It was said of his father that
he could speak well, and it may be said of him that he could write
well, the only thing he could do which was worth doing, always
supposing that there is any merit in being able to write.
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