informs us, "remained attached to the Roman Catholic faith rather longer than the rest of Scotland." In many of their ancient ballads, at some of which we have already glanced, this belief is prominent. The dying man, or as in the case of Clerk Saunders, the ghost begs of his survivors to "wish my soul good rest." This belief is intermingled with their superstitions as in that one attached to Macduff's Cross. This cross is situated near Lindores, on the marsh dividing Fife from Strathern. Around the pedestal of this cross are tumuli, said to be the graves of those who, having claimed the privilege of the law, failed in proving their consanguinity to the Thane of Fife. Such persons were instantly executed. The people of Newburgh believe that the spectres of these criminals still haunt the ruined cross, and claim that mercy for their souls which they had failed to obtain for their mortal existence. Thus does the historian [1] mention the burial of St. Ninian, one of the favorite Saints of the Scots: "He was buried in the Church of St. Martin, which he had himself built from the foundation, and placed in a stone coffin near the altar, the clergy and people standing by and lifting up their heavenly hymns with heart and voice, with sighs and tears." [Footnote 1: Walsh's Hist, of the Cath. Church in Scotland.] In the treasurer's books which relate to the reign of James IV. of Scotland, there is the following entry for April, 1503: "The king went again to Whethorn." (A place of pilgrimage.) "While there he heard of the death of his brother, John, Earl of Mar, and charged the priests to perform a 'dirge and soul Mass' for his brother, and paid them for their pains." In Montalembert's beautiful description of Iona, he mentions the tradition which declares that eight Norwegian kings or princes, four kings of Ireland, and forty-eight Scottish kings were buried there, as also one king of France, whose name is not mentioned, and Egfrid, the Saxon King of Northumbria. There is the tomb of Robert Bruce, the tombs of many bishops, abbots, and of the great chiefs and nobles, the Macdougalls, Lords of Lorn; the Macdonalds, Lords of the Isles; the Macleods, and the Macleans. Nowhere, perhaps, has death placed his seal on a more imposing assemblage, of truly royal stateliness, of astonishingly cosmopolitan variety. In the midst of it all, in the very centre of the burying-ground, stands a ruined chapel, under the invocation of St. Oran, the first Irish monk who died in this region. The church was built by the sainted Margaret, the wife of Malcolm Canmore, and the mother of St. David. Its mission there was obvious. From its altar arose to the Most High, the solemn celebration of the dread mysteries, the psalm and the prayer, for prince and for prelate, for the great alike in the spiritual and temporal hierarchy.