Despite his ecclesiastical severity, and despite all that has been urged against the character of this determined prelate--our Scottish Wolsey--we must assert fearlessly, that he was as true a Scotsman as ever breathed: and that should go far to redeem his errors in the present day, when Scottish spirit and Scottish patriotism are somewhat scarce commodities. Beaton was the sternest, the most active and distinguished ecclesiastic of his time. The Protestant faith recoiled before him, and its defender "by the grace of God," Henry VIII. of England, laid fruitlessly many plots for his death by assassination; but Beaton's master mind circumvented them all. He was too sagacious, and perhaps too worldly, to be superstitious, even at that time; and whatever may have been his errors and his failings (and these, God wot, were not few), his steady maintenance of our Scottish honour and independence should ensure him some little credit, even in the present age. It cannot be denied that he viewed the tenets of the Calvinists with contempt, for he considered them as the natural enemies of Scotland, of her church, and of himself; hence his indomitable attachment to that church which he considered the only true path to Heaven, and whose tenets he upheld by death and fire, and sealed by his own blood. Cardinal Beaton had a grave, firm, warm, and confident mode of expression, which was never used without producing a due effect on the frank and manly James V., who admired his lofty spirit, his keen perception in the field and cabinet, the vastness and profundity of his political projects; his staunch maintenance of the national dignity against English aggression, his avowed hostility to Henry VIII., which, with his bold and reflective character, together with his merciless persecution of all schismatics, combined to make him the first man in Scotland, and the most formidable prince of the church in Europe. The summit of the steep and lofty Easter Lomond, which rises abruptly up from Falkland, was veiled in mist, but below the sunbeams glanced along its sides of dark brown heath, as the cardinal's train rode through the stately park of the palace. It was a glorious summer day; that morning a shower had fallen, and everything looked fresh and beautiful; the Rose-loch, with its flowery islets, where the snowy swan and dusky ouzel built their nests among the water-lilies, was glittering with light; and the old woods of Falkland and Drumdreel rustled their heavy foliage in the gentle wind.