Lovat waked about three o’clock on the morning of his execution, and was heard to “pray with genuine emotion.” He was very cheerful, and having ordered his wig to be sent to the barber, “that he might have time to comb it out genteely, he sat down to a breakfast of minced veal,” ordering coffee and chocolate for his friends, whose health he drank in wine and water. When the Sheriff of London came to demand his body, he responded to the call with alacrity, saying, “I am ready”; and on his way downstairs accepted General Williamson’s invitation to rest in the Lieutenant’s room, and asked him in French if he could “take leave of his lady, and thank her for her civilities. But the General told his lordship in the same language that she was too much affected with his lordship’s misfortunes to bear the shock of seeing him, and therefore hoped his lordship would excuse her.” From the Lieutenant’s house, Lord Lovat was conveyed in the Governor’s coach to the Outer Gate, where he was delivered over to the Sheriffs, who took him in another coach to the house which had already served as the last resting-place of Lords Balmerino and Kilmarnock on the way to the scaffold. Here a room had been got ready for him, hung with black cloth and with sconces. At first his friends were denied admittance, but upon Lord Lovat applying to the Sheriffs, leave was granted. During the time of waiting Lovat thanked the Sheriffs for “their favours,” and desired that his clothes might be given up to his friends with his body, also asking that his head might be received in a white cloth, and put into the coffin. This was promised, as well as that the holding up of the head at the corner of the scaffold should be dispensed with. Lord Lovat was assisted up the steps of the scaffold by two warders, and looking round on the great multitude of people, exclaimed, “God save us! why should there be such a bustle about taking off an old grey head, that cannot go up three steps without three bodies to support it.” Then seeing that one of his friends looked very unhappy, he slapped him on the shoulder, saying: “Cheer up thy heart, man, I am not afraid, why should you?” Like old Lord Balmerino, he felt the edge of the axe, and examined his coffin, upon which was inscribed: “Simon Fraser Dominus de Lovat, Decollat April 9, 1747. Ætat Suae 80.” After repeating some lines from Horace and Ovid, according to the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, “he called his solicitor and agent in Scotland, Mr Wm. Fraser, and presented him with his gold-headed cane, and said: ‘I deliver you this cane in token of my sense of your faithful services, and of my committing to you all the power I leave upon earth,’ and then embraced him. He also called for Mr James Fraser, and said, ‘My dear James, I am going to Heaven, but you must continue to crawl a little longer in this evil world.’ And taking leave of both, he deliver’d his hat, wig, and clothes to Mr William Fraser, and desired him to see that