The party were again seated in their boat, when old Bentley repaid Mrs. Fitzroy's piercing look, of which I told you, _in kind_, and with his _grimmest_ expression of discontent, turned to her, with, "_There_ madam! _There_ are cunning rascals for you! Those scoundrels will elect a king from every boat-load of blockheads that they bring to the upper lake during the season, and will wheedle money out of the _royal_ pocket, and guzzle whiskey at the general cost, till they have not an eye left in their heads." How Mrs. Fitzroy would have turned the edge of old Bentley's ire if she had been disengaged, I cannot tell, but she was listening with so much interest to Domine, that Bentley's tirade passed over her mind, and seemed to be shaken from it like "dew drops from the lion's mane," while she gave her attention to Mr. Oliphant, who is really a mine of knowledge, and who possesses the art of rendering it always pleasing, by his unaffected simple manner, the accuracy of his information, and the tact with which he imparts it. The _investiture_ which we had just witnessed, called forth an agreeable and instructive account of consecration in all its varieties of mode, from the field of Luz mentioned in the 28th chapter of Genesis, to the stone alluded to in the Odyssey, on which Neleus sat "equal in counsel to the Gods." Pope, I remember, translated this passage in four lines, which I gave to Mrs. Fitzroy, in pencil on a scrap of paper, as Domine paused on his tide of learned lore: "The old man early rose, walk'd forth and sat On polished stone, before his palace gate; With unguent smooth, the lucid marble shone, Where ancient Neleus sat, a rustic throne." From thence Mr. Oliphant adverted to the superstitious accounts of the Baithylia, or consecrated stones of Phoenicia mentioned in _Sanchoniatho_, and a great deal more very pleasantly communicated, which you shall have in my journal, but not _here_. I must, however, give you the history of the stone which you and I looked at not long ago, in Westminster Abbey. It lies, you may recollect, under the old chair on which the Kings of England are crowned in the Chapel of Edward the First, and a Scotchman who was standing by when you and I were there took the whole credit of this sacred relique to himself, declaring that it was originally a supernatural gift to his country, and had a prophecy attached to it of the highest importance to the Caledonians. It was called "_Ni fallit Fatum_," and gave rise to the verses which are translated into English thus: "Or Fate's deceived, or Heaven decrees in vain, Or where they find this stone the Scots shall reign."