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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 LIBRARY 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 
 

 
/0C■■€^~~Y..^^ 
 
WAVERLEY 
 
 OR 
 
 'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 
 
 " Under which king, Bezonian ? Speak, or die ! " 
 
 Henry IV., Part II. 
 
 WITH STEEL PLATES FROM DESIGNS BY 
 
 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK, J. M. W. TURNER, AND 
 D. MACLISE 
 
 LONDON AND NEW YORK 
 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS 
 
 1875- 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It has teen the occasional occupation of the Author of Waverley^ for several years past, 
 to revise and correct the voluminous series of Novels which pass under that name ; in 
 order that, if they should ever appear as his avowed productions, he might render them 
 in some degree deserving of a continuance of the publicfavour with which they have 
 been honoured ever since their first appearance. For a long period, however, it seemed 
 likely that the improved and illustrated edition which he meditated would be aposthumous 
 publication. But the course of the events which occasioned the disclosure of the Author's 
 name having in a great measure restored to him a sort of parental control over these Works, 
 he is naturally induced to give them to the press in a corrected, and, he hopes, an improved 
 form, while life and health permit the task of revising and illustrating them. Such bebg 
 his purpose, it is necessary to say a few words on the plan of the proposed Edition. 
 
 In stating it to be revised and corrected, it is not to be inferred that any attempt is made 
 to alter the tenor of the stories, the character of the actors, or the spirit of the dialogue. 
 There is no doubt ample room for emendation in all these points,— but where the tree falls 
 it must lie. Any attempt to obviate criticism, however just, by altering a work already in 
 the hands of the public, is generally unsuccessful. In the most improbable fiction, the 
 reader still desires some air of vraisembla^ice, and does not relish that the incidents of a 
 i^^Ie familiar to him should be altered to suit the taste of critics, or the caprice of the 
 author himself. This process of feeling is so natural, that it may be observed even in 
 children, who cannot endure that a nursery story should be repeated to them diiferent|y 
 from the manner in which it was first told. 
 
 But without altering, in the slightest degree, either the story or the mode of telling it, 
 the Author has taken this opportunity to correct errors of the press and slips of the pen. 
 That such should exist cannot be wondered at, when it is considered that the Publishers 
 found it their interest to hurry through the press a succession of the early editions of the 
 various Novels, and that the Author had not the usual opportunity of revision. It is hoped 
 that the present edition will be found free from errors of that accidental kind. 
 
 The Author has also ventured to make some emendations of a different character, which, 
 without being such apparent deviations from the original stories as to disturb the reader's 
 old associations, will, he thinks, add something to the spirit of the dialogue, narrative, or 
 description. These consist in occasional pruning where the language is redundant, com- 
 pression where the style is loose, infusion of vigour where it is languid, the exchange of 
 less forcible for more appropriate epithets — slight alterations, in short, like the last touches 
 of an artist, which contribute to heighten and finish the picture, though an inexperienced 
 t;ye can hardly detect in what they consist. 
 
 The General Preface to the new Edition, and the Introductory Notices to each separate 
 w6rk, will contain an account of such circumstances attending the first publication of th» 
 Novels and Tales, as may appear interesting in themselves, or proper to be communicatee* 
 to the public. The Author also proposes to publish, on this occasion, the various legends, 
 family traditions, or obscure historical facts, which have formed the groundwork of these 
 Novels, and to give some account of the places where the scenes are laid, when these are 
 altogether, or in part, real ; as well as a statement of particular incidents founded on fact ; 
 together with a more copious Glossary, and Notes explanatory of the ancient customs, and 
 popular superstitions, referred to in the Romances. 
 
 Upon the whole, it is hoped that the Waverley Novels, in their new dress, will not be 
 found to have lost any part of their attractions in consequence of receiving illustrations 
 by the Author, and undergoing his careful revision, 
 
 Abeotsford, January y 1829. 
 
GENERAL PREFACE 
 
 TO THE SCOTT NOVELS. 
 
 ^And must I ravel out 
 
 My weaved-up follies ? 
 
 Richard II. Act IV. 
 
 Having undertaken to give an Introductory Account of the com- 
 positions which are here offered to the public, with Notes and 
 Illustrations, the Author, under whose name they are now for the 
 first time collected, feels that he has the delicate task of speaking 
 more of himself and his personal concerns, than may perhaps be 
 either graceful or prudent. In this particular, he runs the risk of 
 presenting himself to the public in. the relation that the dumb wife 
 in the jest-book held to her husband, when, having spent half of 
 his fortune to obtain the cure of her imperfection, he was willing to 
 have bestowed the other half to restore her to her former condition. 
 But this is a risk inseparable from the task which the Author has 
 undertaken, and he can only promise to be as little of an egotist as 
 the situation will permit. It is perhaps an indifferent sign of a dis- 
 position to keep his word, that having introduced himself in the 
 third person singular, he proceeds in the second paragraph to make 
 use of the first. But it appears to him that the seeming modesty 
 connected with the former mode of writing, is over-balanced by the 
 inconvenience of stiffness and affectation which attends it during a 
 narrative of some length, and which may be observed less or more 
 in every work in which the third person is used, from the Com- 
 mentaries of Caesar, to the Autobiography of Alexander the Cor^ 
 rector. 
 
 I must refer to a very early period of my life, were I to point out 
 my first achievements as a tale-teller — but I believe some of my 
 old schoolfellows can still bear witness that I had a distinguished 
 character for that talent, at a time when the applause of my com- 
 panions was my recompense for the disgraces and punishments 
 which the future romance-writer incurred for being idle himself, 
 and keeping others idle, during hours that should have been 
 employed on our tasks. The chief enjoyment of my holidays was 
 to escape with a chosen friend, who had the same taste with myself, 
 and alternately to recite to each oth-er such wild adventures as we 
 were able to devise. We told, each in turn, interminable tales of 
 knight- enran try and battles and enchantments, which were con- 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. 7 
 
 tinued from one day to another as opportunity offered, without our 
 ever thinking of bringing them to a conclusion. As we observed a 
 strict secrecy on the subject of this intercourse, it acquired all the 
 character of a concealed pleasure, and we used to select, for the 
 scenes of our indulgence, long walks through the solitary and 
 romantic environs of Arthur's Seat, Salisbury Crags, Braid Hills, 
 and similar places in the vicinity of Edinburgh ; and the recollec- 
 tion of those holidays still forms an oasis in the pilgrimage which I 
 have to look back upon. I have only to add, that my friend still 
 lives, a prosperous gentleman, but too much occupied with graver 
 business, to thank me for indicating him more plainly as a confidant 
 of my childish mystery. 
 
 When boyhood advancing into youth required more serious 
 studies and graver cares, a long illness threw me back on the 
 kingdom of fiction, as if it were by a species of fatality. My indis- 
 position arose, in part at least, from my having broken a blood- 
 vessel ; and motion and speech were for a long time pronounced 
 positively dangerous. For several weeks I was confined strictly to my 
 bed, during which time I was not allowed to speak above a whisper, 
 to eat more than a spoonful or two of boiled rice, or to have more 
 covering than one thin counterpane. When the reader is informed 
 that I was at this time a growing youth, with the spirits, appetite, 
 and impatience of fifteen, and suffered, of course, greatly under this 
 severe regimen, which the repeated return of my disorder rendered 
 indispensable, he will not be surprised that I was abandoned to my 
 own discretion, so far as reading (my almost sole amusement) was 
 concerned, and still less so, that I abused the indulgence which left 
 my time so much at my own disposal. 
 
 There was at this time a circulating library in Edinburgh, 
 founded, I believe, by the celebrated Allan Ramsay, which, besides 
 containing a most respectable collection of books of every descrip- 
 tion, was, as might have been expected, peculiarly rich in works of 
 fiction. It exhibited specimens of every kind, from the romances 
 of chivalry, and the ponderous folios of Cyrus and Cassandra, down 
 to the most approved works of later times. I was plunged into this 
 great ocean of reading without compass or pilot ; and unless when 
 some one had the charitj'- to play at chess with me, I was allowed 
 to do nothing save read, from morning to night. I was, in kindness 
 and pity, which was perhaps erroneous, however natural, permitted 
 to select my subjects of study at my own pleasure, upon the same 
 principle that the humours of children are indulged to keep them 
 out of mischief. As my taste and appetite were gratified in 
 nothing else, I indemnified myself by becoming a glutton of books. 
 Accordingly, I believe I read almost all the romances, old plays. 
 
8 GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 and epic poetry, in that fonnidable collection, and no doubt was 
 unconsciously amassing materials for the task in which it has been 
 my lot to be so much employed. 
 
 At the same time I did not in all respects abuse the license per- 
 mitted me. Familiar acquaintance with the specious miracles of 
 fiction brought with it some degree of satiety, and I began, by 
 degrees, to seek in histories, memoirs, voyages and travels, and the 
 like, events nearly as wonderful as those which were the work of 
 imagination, with the additional advantage that they were at least 
 m a great measure true. The lapse of nearly two years, during 
 which I was left to the exercise of my own free will, was followed 
 by a temporary residence in the country, where I was again very 
 lonely but for the amusement which I derived from a good though 
 old-fashioned library. The vague and wild use which I made of 
 this advantage I cannot describe better than by referring my reader 
 to the desultory studies of Waverley in a similar situation ; the pass- 
 ages concerning whose course of reading were imitated from recol- 
 lections of my own. — It must be understood that the resemblance 
 extends no farther. 
 
 Time, as it glided on, brought the blessings of confirmed health 
 and personal strength, to a degree which had never been expected 
 or hoped for. The severe studies necessary to render me fit for my 
 profession occupied the greater part of my time ; and the society 
 of my friends and companions who were about to- enter life along 
 with me, filled up the interval with the usual amusements of young 
 men. I was in a situation which rendered serious labour indis- 
 pensable ; for, neither possessing, on the one hand, any of those 
 peculiar advantages which are supposed to favour a hasty advance 
 in the profession of the law, nor being, on the other hand, exposed 
 to unusual obstacles to interrupt my progress, I might reasonably 
 expect to succeed according to the greater or less degree of trouble 
 which I should take to qualify myself as a pleader. 
 
 It makes no part of the pi-esent story to detail how the success of 
 a few ballads had the effect of changing all the purpose and tenor 
 of my life, and of converting a pains-taking lawyer of some years' 
 standing into a follower of literature. It is enough to say, that I 
 had assumed the latter character for several years before I 
 seriously thought of attempting a work of imagination in prose, 
 although one or two of my poetical attempts did not differ from 
 romances otherwise than by being written in verse. But yet, I may 
 observe, that about this time (now, alas ! thirty years since) I had 
 nourished the ambitious desire of composing a tale of chivalry, 
 which was to be in the style of the Castle of Otranto, with plenty of 
 Border characters, and supernatural incident. Having found 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. 9 
 
 unexpectedly a chapter of this intended work among some old 
 papers, I have subjoined it to this introductory essay, thinking 
 some readers may account as curious, the first attempts at romantic 
 composition by an author who has since written so much in that 
 department. And those who complain, not unreasonably, of the 
 profusion of the Tales which have followed Waverley, may bless 
 their stars at the narrow escape they have made by the commence- 
 ment of the inundation which had so nearly taken place in the 
 first year of the century, being postponed for fifteen years later. 
 
 This particular subject was never resumed, but I did not abandon 
 the idea of fictitious composition in prose, though I determined to 
 give another turn to the style of the work. 
 
 My early recollections of the Highland scenery and customs 
 made so favourable an impression in the poem called the Lady of 
 the Lake, that I was induced to think of attempting something of 
 the same kind in prose. I had been a good deal in the Highlands 
 at a time when they were much less accessible, and much less 
 visited, than they have been of late years, and was acquainted with 
 inany of the old warriors of 1745, who were, like most veterans, 
 easily induced to fight their battles over again, for the benefit of a 
 willing listener like myself. It naturally occurred to me, that the 
 ancient traditions and high spirit of a people, who, living in a 
 civilized age and country, retained so strong a tincture of manners 
 belonging to an early period of society, must afford a subject 
 favourable for romance, if it should not prove a curious tale marred 
 in the telKng. 
 
 It was with some idea of this kind, that, about the year 1805, 1 
 threw together about one-third part of the first volume of Waverley. 
 It was advertised to be published by the late Mr. John Ballantyne, 
 bookseller in Edinburgh, under the name of " Waverley, or 'tis 
 Fifty Years since," — a title afterwards altered to " 'Tis Sixty Years 
 since," that the actual date of publication might be made to corre- 
 spond with the period in which the scene was laid. Having pro- 
 ceeded as far, I think, as the Seventh Chapter, I showed my work 
 to a critical friend, whose opinion was unfavourable ; and having 
 then some poetical reputation, I was unwilling to risk the loss of it 
 by attempting a new style of composition. I therefore threw aside 
 the work I had commenced, without either reluctance or remon- 
 strance. I ought to add, that though my ingenious friend's sentence 
 was afterwards reversed, on an appeal to the public, it cannot be 
 considered as any imputation on his good taste ; for the specimen 
 subjected to his criticism did not extend beyond the departure of 
 the hero for Scotland, and, consequently, had not entered upon the 
 part of the story which was finally found most interesting. 
 
10 GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 Be that as it may, this portion of the manuscript was laid aside 
 in the drawers of an old writing desk, which, on my first coming to. 
 reside at Abbotsford, in 1811, was placed in a lumber garret, anJi 
 entirely forgotten. Thus, though I sometimes, among other literary 
 avocations, turned my thoughts to the continuation of the romance 
 which I had commenced, yet as I could not find what I had already 
 written, after searchin'g such repositories as were within my reach,, 
 and was too indolent to attempt to write it anew from memory, I as. 
 often laid aside all thoughts of that nature. 
 
 Two circumstances, in particular, recalled my recollection of the 
 mislaid manuscript. The first was the extended and well-merited 
 fame of Miss Edgeworth, whose Irish characters have gone so far 
 to make the English familiar with the character of their .gay and 
 kind-hearted neighbours of Ireland, that she may be truly said to 
 have done more towards completing the Union, than perhaps aD 
 the legislative enactments by which it has been followed up. 
 
 Without being so presumptuous as to hope to emulate the rich 
 humour, pathetic tenderness, and admirable tact, which pervade the 
 works of my accomplished friend, I felt that something might be 
 attempted for my own country, of the same kind with that which 
 Miss Edgeworth so fortunately achieved for Ireland — something 
 which might introduce her natives to those of the sister kingdom, 
 in a more favourable light than they had been placed hitherto, and 
 tend to procure sympathy for their virtues and indulgence for their 
 foibles. I thought also, that much of what I wanted in talent, might 
 be made up by the intimate acquaintance with the subject which I 
 could lay claim to possess, as having travelled through most parts 
 of Scotland, both Highland and Lowland ; having been familiar 
 with the elder, as well as more modern race ; and having had from 
 my infancy free and unrestrained communication with all ranks of 
 my countrymen, from the Scottish peer to the Scottish ploughman. 
 . Such ideas often occurred to me, and constituted an ambitious 
 branch of my theory, however far short I may have fallen of it in 
 practice. 
 
 But it was not only the triumphs of Miss Edgeworth which 
 worked in me emulation, and disturbed my indolence. I chanced 
 actually to engage in a work which formed a sort of essay piece, 
 and gave me hope that I might in time become free of the craft of 
 Romance-writing, and be esteemed a tolerable workman. 
 
 In the year 1807-8, I undertook, at the request of John Murray, 
 Esq., of Albemarle Street, to arrange for publication some posthu- 
 ■nous productions of the late Mr. Joseph Strutt, distinguished as an 
 artist and an antiquary, amongst which was an unfinished romance, 
 entitled " Queen-Hoo-Hall." The scene of the tale was laid in the 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. ii 
 
 reign of Henry VI., and the work was written to illustrate the man- 
 ners, customs, and language of the people of England during that 
 period. The extensive acquaintance which Mr. Strutt had 
 acquired with such subjects in compiling his laborious " Horda 
 Angel Cynnan," his "Royal and Ecclesiastical Antiquities," and his 
 " Essay on the Sports and Pastimes of the People of England," had 
 rendered him familiar with all the antiquarian lore necessary for 
 the purpose of composing the projected romance ; and although the 
 manuscript bore the marks of hurry and incoherence natural to the 
 first rough draught of the author, it evinced (in my opinion) con 
 siderable powers of imagination. 
 
 As the Work was unfinished, I deemed it my duty, as Editor, to 
 supply such a hasty and inartificial conclusion as could be shaped 
 out from the story, of which Mr. Strutt had laid the foundation. 
 This concluding chapter is also added to the present volume, for 
 the reason already mentioned regarding the preceding fragment. 
 It was a step in my advance towards romantic composition ; and to ' 
 preserve the traces of these is in a great measure the object of this 
 Essay. 
 
 Oueen-Hoo-Hall was not, however, very successful. I thought 
 I was aware of the reason, and supposed that, by rendering his 
 language too ancient, and displaying his antiquarian knowledge too 
 liberally, the ingenious author had raised up an obstacle to his own 
 success. Every work designed for mere amusement must be 
 expressed in language easily comprehended ; and when, as is 
 sometimes the case in Queen-Hoo-Hall, the author addresses him- 
 self exclusively to the Antiquary, he must be content to be dismissed 
 by the general reader with the criticism of Mungo, in the Padlock, 
 on the Mauritanian music, " What signifies me hear, if me no 
 understand .'' " 
 
 I conceived it possible to avoid this error ; and by rendering a 
 similar work more light and obvious to general comprehension, to 
 escape the rock on which my predecessor was shipwrecked. But I 
 was, on the other hand, so far discouraged by the indifferent recep- 
 tion of Mr, Strutt's romance, as to become satisfied that the 
 manners of the middle ages did not possess the interest which I had 
 conceived ; and was led to form the opinion that a romance, 
 founded on a Highland storj', and more modem events, would have 
 a better chance of popularity than a tale of chivalry. My thoughts, 
 therefore, returned more than once to the tale which I had actually 
 commenced, and accident at length threw the lost sheets in my 
 way. 
 
 I happened to want some fishing-tackle for the use of a guest, 
 when it occurred to me to search the old writing-desk already men- 
 
12 GENERAL PREFACE. / 
 
 tioned, in which I used to keep articles of that nature. I got access 
 to it with some difficulty ; and, in looking for lines and flies, the 
 long-lost manuscript presented itself. I immediately set to work to 
 complete it according to my original purpose. And here I must 
 frankly confess, that the mode in which I conducted the story 
 scarcely deserved the success which the Romance afterwards 
 attained. The tale of Waverley was put together with so little 
 care, that I cannot boast of having sketched any distinct plan of the 
 work. The whole adventures of Waverley, in his movements up 
 and down the country with the Highland cateran Bean Lean, are 
 managed without much skill. It suited best, however, the road I 
 wanted to travel, and permitted me to introduce some descriptions 
 of scenery and manners, to which the reality gave an interest which 
 the powers of the author might have otherwise failed to attain for 
 them. And though I have been in other instances a sinner in this 
 sort, I do not recollect any of these novels, in which I have trans- 
 gressed so widely as in the first of the series. 
 
 Among other unfounded reports, it has been said that the copy- 
 right of Waverley was, during the book's progress through the 
 press, offered for sale to various booksellers in London at a very 
 inconsiderable price. This was not the case. Messrs. Constable 
 and CadeU, who pubhshed the work, were the only persons acr 
 quainted with the contents of the publication, and they offered a 
 large sum for it -while in the course of printing, which, however, 
 was declined, the author not choosing to part with the copyright. 
 
 The origin of the story of Waverley, and the particular facts on 
 which it is founded, are given in the separate Introduction pre- 
 fixed to that romance in this edition, and require no notice in this 
 place. 
 
 Waverley was published in 1814, and as the title-page was with- 
 out the name of the author, the work was left to win its way in the 
 world without any of the usual recommendations. Its progress 
 was for some time slow ; but after the first two or three months, 
 its popularity had increased in a degree which must have satisfied 
 the expectations of the author, had these been far more sanguine 
 than he ever entertained. 
 
 Great anxiety was expressed to learn the name of the author, 
 but on this no authentic information could be attained. My 
 original motive for publishing the work anonymously was the con- 
 sciousness that it was an experiment on the public taste which 
 might very probably fail, and therefore there was no occasion to 
 take on myself the personal risk of discomfiture. For this purpose 
 considerable precautions were used to preserve secrecy. My old 
 friend and schoolfellow, Mr. James Ballantyne, who printed these 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. 13 
 
 Novels, had the exclusive task of corresponding with the author, 
 who thus had not only the advantage of his professional talents, 
 but also of his critical abilities. The original manuscript, or, as it 
 IS technically called, copy, was transcribed under Mr. Ballantyne's 
 eye by confidential persons ; nor was there an instance of trea- 
 chery during the many years in which these precautions were 
 resorted to, although various individuals were employed at different 
 times. Double proof-sheets were regularly printed off. One was 
 forwarded to the author by Mr. Ballantyne, and the alterations 
 which it received were, by his own hand, copied upon the other 
 proof-sheet for the use of the printers, so that even the corrected 
 proofs of the author were never seen in the printing-office ; and 
 thus the curiosity of such eager inquirers as made the most minute 
 investigation v/as entirely at fault. 
 
 But although the cause of concealing the author's name in the 
 first instance, when the reception of Waverley was doubtful, was 
 natural enough, it is more difficult, it may be thought, to account 
 for the same desire for secrecy during the subsequent editions, to 
 the amount of betwixt eleven and twelve thousand copies, which 
 followed each other close, and proved the success of the work. I 
 am sorry I can give little satisfaction to queries on this subject. I 
 have already stated elsewhere, that I can render little better reason 
 for choosing to remain anonymous, than by saying with Shylock, 
 that such was my humour. It will be observed, that I had not the 
 usual stimulus for desiring personal reputation, the desire, namely, 
 to float amidst the conversation of men. Of literary fame, whether 
 merited or undeserved, I had already as much as might have con- 
 tented a mind more ambitious than mine ; and in entering into 
 this new contest for reputation, I might be said rather to endanger 
 what I had, than to have any considerable chance of acquiring 
 more. I was affected, too, by none of those motives which, at an 
 earlier period of life, would doubtless have operated upon me. My 
 friendships were formed, — my place in society fixed, — my Ufe had 
 attained its middle course. My condition in society was higher 
 perhaps than I deserved, certainly as high as I wished, and there 
 was scarce any degree of literary success which could have greatly 
 altered or improved my personal condition. 
 
 I was not, therefore, touched by the spur of ambition, usually 
 stimulating on such occasions ; and yet I ought to stand ex- 
 culpated from the charge of ungracious or unbecoming indifference 
 to public applause. I did not the less feel gratitude for the public 
 favour, although I did not proclaim it, — as the lover who wears his 
 mistress's favour in his bosom, is as proud, though not so vain of 
 possessing it, as another who displays the token of her grace upon 
 
14 GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 his bonnet. Far from such an ungracious state of mind, I have 
 seldom felt more satisfaction than when, returning from a pleasure 
 voyage, I found Waverley in the zenith of popularity, and public 
 curiosity in full crj' after the name of the author. The knowledge 
 that I had the pubHc approbation, was like having the property of 
 a hidden treasure, not less gratifying to the owner than if all the 
 world loiew that it was his own. Another advantage was con- 
 nected with the secrecy which I observed. I could appear, or retreat 
 from the stage at pleasure, without attracting any personal notice 
 or attention, other than what might be founded on suspicion only. 
 In my own" person also, as a successful author in another depart- 
 ment of literature, I might have been charged with too frequent 
 intrusions on the public patience ; but the Author of Waverley was 
 in this respect as impassible to the critic, as the Ghost of Hamlet 
 to the partisan of MarceUus. Perhaps the curiosity of the public, 
 irritated by the existence of a secret, and kept afloat by the dis- 
 cussions which took place on the subject from time to time, went a 
 good way to maintain an unabated interest in these frequent publi- 
 cations. There was a mystery concerning the author, which each 
 new novel was expected to assist in unravelling, although it might 
 in other respects rank lower than its predecessors. 
 
 I may perhaps be thought guilty of affectation, should I allege 
 as one reason of my silence, a secret dislike to enter on personal 
 discussions concerning my own literary labours. It is in every 
 case a dangerous intercourse for an author to be dwelling con- 
 tinually among those who make his writings a frequent and familiar 
 subject of conversation, but who must necessarily be partial judges 
 of works composed in their own society. The habits of self- 
 importance, which are thus acquired by authors, are highly 
 injurious to a well-regulated mind ; for the cup of flattery, if it 
 does not, like that of Circe, reduce men to the level of beasts, is 
 sure, if eagerly drained, to bring the best and the ablest down to 
 that of fools. This risk was in some degree prevented by the 
 mask which I wore ; and my own stores of self-conceit were left to 
 their natural course, without being enhanced by the partiality of 
 friends, or adulation of flatterers. 
 
 If I am asked further reasons for the conduct I have long ob- 
 served, I can only' resort to the explanation supplied by a critic as 
 friendly as he is intelligent ; namely, that the mental organization 
 of the Novelist must be characterised, to speak craniologically, by 
 an extraordinary development of the passion for delitescency ! I 
 the rather suspect some natural disposition of this kind ; for, from 
 the instant I perceived the extreme curiosity manifested on the 
 subject, I felt a secret satisfaction in baffling it, for which, when 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. 15 
 
 its unimportance is considered, I do not well know how to 
 account. 
 
 My desire to remain concealed, in the character of the Author of 
 these Novels, subjected me occasionally to awkward embarrass- 
 ments, as it sometimes happened that those who were sufSciently 
 intimate with me, would put the question in direct terms. In this 
 case, only one of three courses could be followed. Either I must 
 have surrendered my secret, — or have returned an equivocating 
 answer, — or, finally, must have stoutly and boldly denied the fact. 
 The first was a sacrifice which I conceive no one had a right to 
 force from me, since I alone was concerned in the matter. The 
 alternative of rendering a doubtful answer must have left me open 
 to the degrading suspicion that I was not unwilling to assume the 
 merit (if there was any) which I dared not absolutely lay claim to ; 
 or those who might think more justly of me, must have received 
 such an equivocal answer as an indirect avowal. I therefore con- 
 sidered myself entitled, like an accused person put upon trial, to 
 refuse giving my own evidence to my own conviction, and flatly 
 to deny all that could not be proved against me. At the same time 
 I usually qualified my denial by stating that, had I been the author 
 of these works, I would have felt myself quite entitled to protect 
 my secret by refusing my own evidence, when it was asked for to 
 accomplish a discoveiy of what I desired to conceal. 
 
 The real truth is, that I never expected or hoped to disguise my 
 connexion with these Novels from any one who lived on terms of 
 intimacy with me. The number of coincidences which necessarily 
 existed between narratives recounted, modes of expression, and 
 opinions broached in these Tales, and such as were used by their 
 author in the intercourse of private life, must have been tar too 
 great to permit any of my familiar acquaintances to doubt the 
 identity betwixt their friend and the Author of Waverley ; and I 
 believe, they were all morally convinced of it. But while I was 
 myself silent, their belief could not weigh much more with the 
 world than that of others ; their opinions and reasoning were liable 
 to be taxed with partiality, or confronted with opposing arguments 
 and opinions ; and the question was not so much, whether I should 
 be generally acknowledged to be the author, in spite of my own 
 denial, as whether even my own avowal of the works, if such should 
 be made, would be sufficient to put me in undisputed possession of 
 that character. 
 
 I have been often asked concerning supposed cases in which I 
 was said to have been placed on the verge of discovery ; but, as I 
 maintained my point with the composure of a lawyer of thirty years' 
 standing, I never recollect being in pain or confusion on the sub- 
 
x6 GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 ject. In Captain Medwyn's Conversations of Lord Byron, the 
 reporter states himself to have asked my noble and highly-gifted 
 friend, " If he was certain about these Novel? being Sir Walter 
 Scott's V To which Lord Byron replied, " Scott as much as 
 owned himself the Author of Waverley to me in Murray's shop. I 
 was talking to him about that novel, and lamented that its author 
 had not carried back the story nearer to the time of the Revolution 
 — Scott, entirely off his guard, replied, ' Ay, I might have done so ; 
 but — ' there he stopped. It was in vain to attempt to correct him- 
 self ; he looked confused, and relieved his embarrassment by a. 
 precipitate retreat." I have no recollection whatever of this scene 
 taking place, and I should have thought that I was more likely to 
 have laughed than to appear confused, for I certainly never hoped 
 to impose upon Lord Byron in a case of the kind ; and from the 
 manner in which he uniformly expressed himself, I knew his 
 opinion was entirely formed, and that any disclamations of mine 
 would only have savoured of affectation. I do not mean to 
 insinuate that the incident did not happen, but only that it could 
 hardly have occurred exactly under the circumstances narrated, 
 without my recollecting something positive on the subject. In 
 another part of the same volume, Lord Byron is reported to have 
 expressed a supposition that the cause of my not avowing myself 
 the Author of Waverley may have been some surmise that the 
 reigning family would have been displeased with the work. I can 
 only say, it is the last apprehension I should have entertained, ap 
 indeed the inscription to these volumes sufficiently proves. The 
 sufferers of that melancholy period have, during the last and 
 present reign, been honoured both with the sympathy and protec- 
 tion of the reigning family, whose magnanimity can well pardon a 
 sigh from others, and bestow one themselves, to the memory of 
 brave opponents, who did nothing in hate, but all in honour. 
 
 While those who were in habitual intercourse with the real author 
 had little hesitation in assigning the literary property to him, others, 
 and those critics of no mean rank, employed themselves in inves- 
 tigating with persevering patience any characteristic features which 
 might seem to betray the origin of these Novels. Amongst these, 
 one gentleman, equally remarkable for the kind and Hberal tone of 
 his criticism, the acuteness of his reasoning, and the very gentle- 
 manlike manner in which he conducted his inquiries, displayed 
 not only powers of accurate investigation, but a temper of mind 
 deserving to be employed on a subject of much greater import- 
 ance ; and I have no doubt made converts to his opinion of almost 
 all who thought the point worthy of consideration. Of those letters, 
 and other attempts of the same kind, the author could not com- 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. i; 
 
 plain, though his incognito was endangered. He had challenged, 
 the public to a game at bo-peep, and if he was discovered in his 
 " widing-hole," he must submit to the shame of detection. 
 
 Various reports were of course circulated in various ways ; some 
 founded on an inaccurate rehearsal of what may have been partly 
 real, some on circumstances having no concern whatever with the 
 subject, and others on the invention of some importunate persons, 
 who might perhaps imagine, that the readiest mode of forcing the 
 author to disclose himself, was to assign some dishonourable and 
 discreditable cause for his silence. 
 
 It may be easily supposed that this sort of inquisition was treated 
 with contempt by the- person whom it principally regarded ; as, 
 among all the rumours that were current, there was only one, and 
 that as unfounded as the others, which had nevertheless some 
 alliance to probability, and indeed might have proved in some 
 degree true. 
 
 I allude to a report which ascribed a great part, or the whole, of 
 these Novels, to the late Thomas Scott, Esq., of the 70th Regi- 
 ment, then stationed in Canada. Those who remember l;hat gentle- 
 man will readily grant, that, with general talents at least equal to 
 those of his elder brother, he added a power of social humour, and 
 a deep insight into human character, which rendered him an uni- 
 versally delightful member of society, and that the habit of com- 
 position alone was wanting to render him equally successful as a 
 writer. The Author of Waverley was so persuaded of the truth of 
 this, that he warmly pressed his brother to make such an experi- 
 ment, and willingly undertook all the trouble of correcting and 
 superintending the press. Mr. Thomas Scott seemed at first very 
 well disposed to embrace the proposal, and had even fixed on a 
 subject and a hero. The latter was a person well known to both' 
 of us in our boyish years, from having displayed some strong traits 
 of character. Mr. T. Scott had determined to represent his 
 youthful acquaintance as emigrating to America, and encountering 
 the dangers and hardships of the New World, with the same 
 dauntless spirit which he had displayed when a boy in his native 
 country. Mr. Scott vt-ould probably have been highly successful, 
 being familiarly acquainted with the manners of the native Indians, 
 of the old French settlers in Canada, and of the Bruits or Woodsmen, 
 and having the power of observing, with accuracy what, I have no 
 doubt, he could have sketched with force and expression. In short, 
 the author believes his brother would have made himself distin- 
 guished in that striking field, in which, since that period, Mr. 
 Cooper has achieved so many triumphs. But Mr. T. Scott was 
 already affected by bad health, which wholly unfitted him for lit* 
 
,g GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 rary labour, even if he could have reconciled his patience to the 
 task. He never, I believe, wrote a single line of the projected 
 work ;'and I only have the melancholy pleasure of preserving m 
 the Appendix to this volume, the simple anecdote on which he pro- 
 posed to found it. 
 
 To this I may add, I can easily conceive that there may have 
 been circumstances which gave a colour to the general report of 
 my brother being interested in these works ; and in particula.r 
 that it might derive strength from my having occasion to remit 
 to him, in consequence of certain family transactions, some con- 
 siderable sums of money about that period. To which it is to be 
 added, that if any person chanced to evince particular curiosity 
 on such a subject, my brother was likely enough to divert himself 
 with practising on their credulity. 
 
 It may be mentioned, that while the paternity of these Novels 
 was from time to time warmly disputed in Britain, the foreign 
 ■booksellers expressed no hesitation on the matter, but affixed my 
 name to the whole of the Novels, and to some besides to which I 
 had no claim. 
 
 The volumes, therefore, to which the present pages form a Pre- 
 face, are entirely the composition of the Author by whom they are 
 now acknowledged, with the exception, always, of avowed quota- 
 tions, and such unpremeditated and involuntary plagiarisms as can 
 scarce be guarded against by any one who has read and written a 
 great deal. The original manuscripts are all in existence, and 
 entirely written Qiorresco referens) in the Authoi''s own hand, ex- 
 cepting during the years 1818 and 1819, when, being affected with 
 severe illness, he was obliged to employ the assistance of a friendly 
 amanuensis. 
 
 The number of persons to whom the secret was necessarily in- 
 trusted, or communicated by chance, amounted I should think to 
 twenty at least, to whom I am greatly obliged for the fidelity with 
 which they observed their trust, until the derangement of the 
 affairs of my publishers, Messrs. Constable & Co., and tlie expo- 
 sure of their accompt books, which was the necessary consequence, 
 rendered secrecy no longer possible. The particulars attending 
 the avowal have been laid before the public in the Introduction to 
 the Chronicles of the Canongate. 
 
 The preliminary advertisement has given a sketch of the purpose 
 of this edition. I have some reason to fear that the notes which 
 accompany the tales, as now published, may be thought too miscel- 
 laneous and too egotistical. It may be some apology for this, that 
 the publication was intended to be posthumous, and still more, that 
 old men may be permitted to speak long, because they cannot in 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. 19 
 
 the course of nature have long time to speak. In preparing the 
 present edition, I have done all that I can do to explain the nature 
 of my materials, and the use 1 have made of them ; nor is it pro- 
 bable that I shall again revise or even read these tales. I was 
 therefore desirous rather to exceed in the portion of new and expla- 
 natory matter which is added to this edition, than that the reader 
 should have reason to complain that the information commu- 
 nicated was of a general and merely nominal character. It 
 remains to be tried whether the public (like a child to whom a 
 watch is shown) will, after having been satiated with looking at 
 (the outside, acquire some new interest in the object, when it is 
 f>pened, and the internal machinery displayed to them. 
 
 Farther explanation respecting the Edition, is the business of 
 the publishers, not of the author ; and here, therefore, the latter 
 has accomplished his task of introduction and explanation. If, 
 like a spoiled child, he has sometimes abused or triiled with the 
 indulgence of the public, he feels himself entitled to full belief, 
 when he exculpates himself from the charge of having been at any 
 time insensible of their kindness. 
 
 Abbots FORD, 
 
 tii jfanuary, iSsj. 
 
 £ S 
 
TO 
 
 [Geo. IV.] 
 THE KING'S MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY. 
 
 Sire, 
 
 The Author of this collection of Works of Fictiom 
 would not have presumed to solicit for them Your 
 Majesty's August Patronage, were it not that the perusal 
 has been supposed, in some instances, io have succeeded 
 in amusing hours of relaxation, or relieving those of 
 languor, pain, or anxiety ; and therefore must have so- 
 far aided the warmest wish of your Majesty's heart, by 
 contributing, in however small a degree, to the happiness 
 of your people. 
 
 They are therefore humbly' dedicated to your Majesty^ 
 agreeably to your gracious permission, by 
 
 Your Majesty's 
 
 Dutiful Subject, 
 
 W-ALTJiK. SCOTX 
 AmtOTSFORD, 
 
 1st yanuary, 1839. 
 
WAVERLEY; 
 
 OR. 
 
 ^TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE. 
 
 Under which King-, Bezonian ? speak, or die ! 
 
 Henry IV. Part II. 
 
 INTRODUCTION— (1S29.) 
 
 The plan of this Edition leads me to insert in this place some 
 account of the incidents on which the Novel of Waverley is 
 founded. They have been already given to the public, by my late 
 lamented friend, William Erskine, Esq. (afterwards Lord Kinneder), 
 ^^■hen reviewing the Tales of My Landlord for the Quarterly Review, 
 in 1817. The particulars were derived by the Critic from the 
 Author's information. Afterwards they were published in the 
 Preface to the Chronicles of the Canongate. They are now in* 
 scitcd in their proper place. 
 
 The mutual protection afforded by Waverley and Talbot to each 
 other, upon which the whole plot depends, is founded upon one of 
 tliose anecdotes which soften the features even of civil war; and as 
 it is equally honourable to the memory of both parties, we have no 
 hesitation to give their names at length. When the Highlanders, 
 on the morning of the battle of Preston, 1745, made their memor- 
 able attack on Sir John Cope's army, a battery of four field-pieces 
 was stormed and carried by the Camerons and the Stewarts of 
 Appine. The late Alexander Stewart of Invernahyle was one of 
 the foremost in the charge, and observing an officer of the King's 
 forces, who, scorning to join the flight of all around, remained with 
 his sword in his hand, as if determined to the very last to defend 
 the post assigned to him, the Plighland gentleman commanded 
 him to surrender, and received for reply a thrust, which he caught 
 in his target. The officer was nov/ defenceless, and the battle-axe 
 of a gigantic Highlander (the miller of Invernahyle's mill) was up- 
 lifted to dash his brains out, when Mr. Stewart with difficulty 
 prevailed on him to yield. He took charge of his enemy's pro- 
 perty, protected his person, and finally obtained him liberty on his 
 
sa PREFACE TO 
 
 parole. The ofBcer proved to be Colonel Whitefoord, an Ayrshire? 
 gentleman of high character and influence, and warmly attached to 
 the House of Hanover; yet such was the confidence .existing 
 between these two honourable men, though of different political 
 principles, that while the civil war was raging, and straggling 
 officers from the Highland army were executed without mercy, In- 
 vernahyle hesitated not to pay his late captive a visit, as he returned 
 to the Highlands to raise fresh recruits, on which occasion he spent 
 a day or two in Ayrshire among Colonel Whitefoord's Whig friends, 
 as pleasantly and as good-humouredly as if all had been at peace 
 around him. 
 
 After the battle of CuUoden had ruined the hopes of Charles 
 Edward, and dispersed his proscribed adherents, it was Colonel 
 Whitefoord's turn to strain e^'ery nerve to obtain Mr. Stewart's- 
 pardon. He went to the Lord Justice-Clerk, to the Lord Advocate, 
 and to all the officers of state, and each application was answered 
 by the production of a list, in which Invernahyle (as the good old 
 gentleman was wont to express it) appeared " marked with the 
 sign of the beast ! " as a subject unfit for favour or pardon. 
 
 At length Colonel Whitefoord applied to the Duke of Cumber- 
 land in person. From him, also, he received a positive refusal. 
 He then limited his request, for the present, to a protection for 
 Stewart's house, wife, children, and property. This was also- 
 refused by the Duke ; on which Colonel Whitefoord, taking his^ 
 commission from his bosom, laid it on the table before his Royal 
 Highness with much emotion, and asked permission to retire from 
 the service of a sovereign who did not know how to spare a van- 
 quished enemy. The Duke was struck, and even affected. He 
 bade the Colonel take up his commission, and granted the protec- 
 tion he required. It was issued just in time to save the house, 
 corn, and cattle at Invernahyle, from the troops who were engaged 
 in laying waste what it was the fashion to call " the country of the 
 enemy." A small encampment of soldiers was formed on Inver- 
 nahyle's property, which they spared while plundering the country 
 around, and searching in every direction for the leaders of the 
 insurrection, and for Stewart in particular. He was much nearer 
 them than they suspected ; for, hidden in a cave (like the Baron of 
 Bradwardine), he lay for many days so near the Enghsh sentinels,, 
 that he could hear their muster-roll called. His food was brought 
 to him by one of his daughters, a child of eight years old, whom 
 Mrs. Stewart was under the necessity of intrusting with this com- 
 mission ; for her own motions, and those of all her elder inmates, 
 were closely watched. With ingenuity beyond her years, the child 
 used to stray about among the soldiers, who were rather kind to 
 
WAVE RLE Y. 13 
 
 her, and thus seize the moment when she was unobserved, and 
 steal into the thicket, when she deposited whatever small store ai 
 provisions she had in charge at some marked spot, where her 
 father might find it. Invernahyle supported life for several weeks 
 by means of these precarious supplies ; and as he had been 
 wounded in the battle of CuUoden, the hardships which he endured 
 ■were aggravated by great bodily pain. After the soldiers had 
 removed their quarters, he had another remarkable escape. 
 
 As he now ventured to his own house at night, and left it in the 
 morning, he was espied during the dawn by a party of the enemy, 
 who fired at and pursued him. The fugitive being fortunate 
 enough to escape their search, they returned to the house, and 
 charged the family with harbouring one of the proscribed traitors. 
 An. old woman had presence of mind enough to maintain that the 
 man they had seen was the shepherd. " Why did he not stop when 
 we called to him ? " said the soldier. " He is as deaf, poor man, as 
 a peat-stack," answered the ready-witted domestic. " Let him be 
 sent for directly." The real shepherd accordingly was brought 
 from the hill, and as there was time to tutor him by the way, he 
 was as deaf when he made his appearance, as was necessary to 
 sustain his character. Invernahyle was afterwards pardoned under 
 the Act of Indemnity. 
 
 The Author Imew him well, and has often heard these circum- 
 stances from his own mouth. He was a noble specimen of the old 
 Highlander, far descended, gallant, courteous, and brave, even to 
 chivalry. He had been oni, 1 believe in 1715 and 1745, was an 
 active partaker in all the stirring scenes which passed in the High- 
 lands betwixt these memorable eras ; and, I have heard, was 
 remarkable, among other exploits, for having fought a duel with 
 the broadsword with the celebrated Rob Roy MacGregor, at the 
 Clachan of Balquidder. 
 
 Invernahyle chanced to be in Edinburgh when Paul Jones came 
 into the Firth of Forth, and though then an old man, I saw him in 
 arms, and heard him exult (to use his own words) in the prospect 
 of " drawing his claymore once more before he died." In fact, on 
 that memorable occasion, when the capital of Scotland was 
 menaced by three trifling sloops or brigs, scarce fit to have sacked 
 a fishing village, he was the only man who seemed to propose a 
 plan of resistance. He offered to the magistrates, if broadswords 
 and dirks could be obtained, to find as many Highlanders among 
 the lower classes as would cut off any boat's crew who might be 
 set into a town full of narrow and winding passages, in which they 
 were like to disperse in quest of plunder. I know not if his plaii 
 was attended to ; I rather think it seemed too hazardous to the 
 
24 PREFACE TO 
 
 constituted authorities, who might not, even at that time, desire to 
 see arms in Highland hands. A steady and powerful west wind 
 settled the matter by sweeping Paul Jones and his vessels out of 
 the Frith. 
 
 If there is something degrading in this recollection, it is not 
 unpleasant to compare it with those of the last war, when Edin- 
 burgh, besides regular forces and militia, furnished a volunteer 
 brigade of cavalry, infantry, and artillery, to the amount of six thou- 
 sand men and upwards, which was in readiness to meet and repel 
 a force of a far more formidable description than was commanded 
 by the adventurous American. Time and circumstances change 
 the character of nations and the fate of cities ; and it is some pride 
 to a Scotchman to reflect, that the independent and manly cha- 
 racter of a country willing to intrust its own protection to the arms 
 of its children, after having been obscured for half a century, has, 
 during the course of his own lifetime, recovered its lustre.* 
 
 [^" That the text be not cumbered, the notes, which are numer- 
 ous and valuable, will be found at the close of the text, an asterisk 
 appearing in the page to call attention to them. — ^A. M.] 
 
 PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION— 
 (Oct. 1814.) 
 To this slight attempt at a sketch of ancient Scottish manners, 
 the public have been more favourable than the Author durst have 
 hoped or expected. He has heard, with a mixture of satisfaction 
 and humility, his work ascribed to more than one respectable 
 name. Considerations, which seem weighty in his particular 
 situation, prevent his releasing those gentlemen from suspicion by 
 placing his own name in the title-page ; so that, for the present at 
 least, it must remain uncertain, whether Waverley be the work 
 of a poet or a critic, a lawyer or a clergyman, or whether the 
 writer, to use Mrs. Malaprop's phrase, be, " like Cerberjs — three 
 gentlemen at once." The Author, as he is unconscious of any- 
 thing in the work itself (except perhaps its frivolity) which prevents 
 its finding an acknowledged father, leaves it to the candour of the 
 public to choose among the many circumstances peculiar to dif- 
 ferent situations in life, such as may induce him to suppress his 
 name on the present occasion. He may be a writer new to publi- 
 cation, and unwilling to avow a character to which he is unaccus- 
 tomed ; or he fl!!iy be a hackneyed authoi', who is ashamed of too 
 frequent appearance, and employs this mystery, as the heroine of 
 
WAVERLEY. 25 
 
 the old comedy used her mask, to attract the attention of those to 
 •whom her face had become too famihar. He may be a man of a 
 grave profession, to whom the reputation of being a novel-writer 
 might be prejudicial ; or he may be a man of fashion, to whom 
 writing of any kind might appear pedantic. He may be too young 
 to assume the character of an author, or so old as to make it 
 advisable to lay it aside. 
 
 The Author of Waverley has heard it objected to this novel, 
 that, in the character of Galium Beg, and in the account given by 
 the Baron of Bradwardine of the petty trespasses of the High- 
 landers upon trifling articles of property, he has borne hard, and 
 tmjustly so, upon their national character. Nothing could be 
 farther from his wish or intention. The character of Galium Beg 
 is that of a spirit naturally turned to daring evil, and determined, 
 by the circumstances of his situation, to a particular species of 
 mischief. Those who have perused the curious Letters from the 
 Highlands, published about 1726, will find instances of such 
 atrocious characters which fell under the writer's own observation, 
 though it would be most unjust to consider such villains as repre- 
 sentatives of the Highlanders of that period, any more than the 
 murderers of Marr and Williamson can be supposed to represent 
 the English of the present day. As for the plunder supposed to 
 have been picked up by some of the insurgents in 1745, it must be 
 remembered that, although the way of that unfortunate little army 
 was neither marked by devastation nor bloodshed, but, on the con- 
 trary, was orderly and quiet in a most wonderful degree, yet no 
 army marches through a country in a hostile manner without com- 
 mitting some depredations ; and several, to the extent, and of the 
 nature, jocularly imputed to them by the Baron, were really laid 
 to the charge of the Highland insurgents ; for which many tra- 
 ditions, and particularly one respecting the Knight of the Mirror, 
 may be quoted as good evidence.* 
 
 * These lines will appear among the notes at close of the 
 volume. — A. M. 
 
WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 CHAPTER I, 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 The title of this work has not been chosen without the grave 
 and solid deliberation, which matters of importance demand fronv 
 the prudent. Even its first, or general denomination, was the' 
 result of no common research or selection, although, according to 
 the example of my predecessors, I had only to seize upon the most 
 sounding and euphonic surname that English history or topo- 
 graphy affords, and elect it at once as the title of my work, and the 
 name of my hero. But, alas ! what could my readers have ex- 
 pected from the chivalrous epithets of Howard, Mordaunt, Mor' 
 timer, or Stanley, or from the softer and more sentimental sounds of 
 Belmour, Belville, Belfield, and Belgrave, but pages of inanity,- 
 similar to those which have been so christened for half a century 
 past ? I must modestly admit I am too diffident of my own merit- 
 to place it in unnecessary opposition to preconceived associations ; 
 I have, therefore, like a maiden knight with his white shield, 
 assumed for my hero, Waverlev, an uncontaminated name,- 
 bearing with its sound little of good or evil, excepting what the 
 reader shall hereafter be pleased to affix to it. But my second or 
 supplemental title was a matter of much more difficult election, 
 since that, short as it is, may be held as pledging the author to 
 some special mode of laying his scene, drawing his characters, and 
 managing his adventures. Had I, for example, announced in my 
 frontispiece, " Waverley, a Tale of other Days," must not every 
 novel reader have anticipated a castle scarce less than that of 
 Udolpho, of which the eastern wing had long been uninhabited,- 
 and the keys either lost, or consigned to the care of some aged 
 butler or housekeeper, whose trembling steps, about the middle of 
 the second volume, were doomed to guide the hero, or heroine, to' 
 the ruinous precincts? Would not the owl have shrieked and the 
 cricket cried in my very title-page .' and could it have been possible 
 for me, with a moderate attention to decorum, to introduce any 
 scene more lively than might be produced by the jocularity of a 
 clownish but faithful valet, or the garrulous narrative of the 
 heroine's fiUe-de-chambre. when rehearsing the stories of blood and 
 
c8 WA\-ERLEY. 
 
 horror which she had heard in the servants' hall ? Again, had my 
 title borne " Wavcrley, a Romance from the German," what head 
 so obtuse as not to image forth a profligate abbot, an oppressive 
 duke, a secret and mysterious association of Rosycrucians and 
 lUuminati, with all their properties of black cowls, caverns, daggers, 
 electrical machines, trap-doors, and dark-lanterns ? Or if I had 
 rather chosen to call my work a " Sentimental Tale," would it not 
 have been a sufficient presage of a heroine with a profusion of 
 auburn hair, and a harp the soft solace of her solitary hours, which 
 she fortunately finds always the means of transporting from castle 
 to cottage, although she herself be sometimes obliged to jump out of 
 a two-pair-of-stairs window, and is more than once bewildered on 
 her journey, alone and on foot, without any guide but a blowzy 
 peasant girl, whose jargon she hardly can understand ? Or again, 
 if my Waverley had been entitled " A Tale of the Times," wouldst 
 thou not, gentle reader, have demanded- from me a dashing sketch 
 of the fashionable world, a few anecdotes of private scandal thinly 
 veiled, and if lusciously painted, so much the better ? a heroine 
 from Grosvenor Square, and a hero from the Barouche Chib or the 
 Four-in-Hand, with a set of subordinate characters from the 
 elegantes of Queen Anne Street East, or the dashing heroes of the 
 Bow-Street Office ? I could proceed in proving the importance of 
 a title-page, and displaying at the same time my own intimate 
 knowlege of the particular ingredients necessary to the composi- 
 tion of romances and novels of various descriptions : But it is 
 enough, and I scorn to tyrannize longer over the impatience of my 
 reader, v/ho is doubtless already anxious to know the choice made 
 by an author so profoundly versed in the different branches of 
 his art. 
 
 By fixing, then, the date of my story Sixty Years before the 
 present ist November, 1805, I would have my readers understand, 
 that they will meet in the following pages neither a romance of 
 chivalry, nor a tale of modern manners ; that my hero will neither 
 have iron on his shoulders, as of yore, nor on the heels of his boots, 
 as is the present fashion of Bond Street ; and that my damsels 
 will neither be clothed " in purple and in pall," like the Lady Alice 
 of an old ballad, nor reduced to the primitive nakedness of a 
 modern fashionable at a rout. From this my choice of an era the 
 understanding critic may farther presage, that the object of my 
 tale is more a description of men than manners. A tale ot 
 manners, to be interesting, must either refer to antiquity so great 
 as to have become venerable, or it must bear a vivid reflection 01 
 those scenes which are passing daily before our eyes, and are inte- 
 resting from their novelty. Thus the coat-of-mail of our ancestors, 
 
WA^'ERLEY. 
 
 =9 
 
 and the triplc-furrad pelisse of our modern beaux, may, though for 
 very different reasons, be equally fit for the array of a fictitious 
 character ; but who, meaning tlie costume of his hero to be impres- 
 sive, would willingly attire him in the court dress of George the 
 Second's reign, with its no collar, large sleeves, and low pocket- 
 holes ? The same may be urged, with equal truth, of the Gothic 
 haU, which, with its darkened and tinted windows, its elevated and 
 gloomy roof, arid massive oaken table garnished with boar's-head 
 and rosemary, pheasants and peacocks, cranes and cygnets, has an 
 excellent effect in fictitious description. Much may also be gained 
 by a lively display of a modern fi§te, such as we have daily recorded 
 in that part of a newspaper entitled the Mirror of Fashion, if we 
 contrast these, or either of them, with the splendid formality of an 
 entertainment given Sixty Years since ; and thus it will be readily 
 seen how much the painter of antique or of fashionable manners 
 gains over him who delineates those of the last generation. 
 
 Considering the disadvantages inseparable from this part of my 
 subject, I must be understood to have resolved to avoid them as 
 much as possible, by throwing the force of my narrative upon the 
 characters and passions of the actors ; — those passions common to 
 men in all stages of society, and which have alike agitated the 
 human heart, whether it throbbed under the steel corslet of the 
 fifteenth century, the brocaded coat of the eighteenth, or the blue 
 frock and white dimity waistcoat of the present day.* Upon these 
 passions it is no doubt true that the state of manners and laws 
 cast a necessary colouring ; but the bearings, to use the language 
 of heraldrj', remain the same, though the tincture may be not only 
 different, but opposed in strong contra-distinction. The wrath of 
 our ancestors, for example, was coloured gnlcs; it broke forth in 
 acts of open and sanguinary violence against the objects of its 
 fury. Our malignant feelings, which must seek gratification through 
 n.ore indirect channels, and undermine the obstacles which they 
 cannot openly bear down, may be rather said to be tinctured sable. 
 But the deep-ruling impulse is the same in both cases; and the 
 proud peer who can now only ruin his neighbour according to law, 
 by protracted suits, is the genuine descendant of the baron who 
 wrapped the castle of his competitor in flames, and knocked him 
 on the head as he endeavoured to escape from the conflagration. 
 It is from the great book of Nature, the same through a thousand 
 editions, whether of black-letter, or wire-wove and hot-pressed, 
 that I have venturously essayed to read a chapter to the public. 
 Some favourable opportunities of contrast have been afforded me, 
 by the state of society in th northern part of the island at the 
 period of my history, and may serve at once to vary and to 
 
50 WAVERLEY. 
 
 illustrate the moral lessons, which I would willingly consider as 
 the most important part of my plan ; although I am sensible how 
 ■short these will fall of their aim, if I shall be found unable to mix 
 them with amusement, — a task not quite so easy in this critical 
 generation as it was " Sixty Years since." 
 
 CHAPTER II, 
 
 V/AVERLEY-HONOUR. — A RETROSPECT. 
 
 It is, then, sixty years since Edward Waverley, the hero of the 
 following pages, took leave of his family, to join the regiment of 
 dragoons in which he had lately obtained a commission. It was a 
 melancholy day at Waverley-Honour when the young officer parted 
 with Sir Everard, the affectionate old uncle to whose title and 
 estate he was presumptive heir. 
 
 A difference in political opinions had early separated the Baronet 
 from his younger brother Richard Waverley, the father of our hero. 
 Sir Everard had inherited from his sires the whole train of Tory or 
 High-church predilections and prejudices, which had distinguished 
 the house of Waverley since the Great Civil War. Richard, on 
 the contrary, who was ten years younger, beheld himself born to 
 the fortune of a second brother, and anticipated neither dignity 
 nor entertainment in sustaining the character of Will Wimble. 
 He saw early, that, to succeed in the race of life, it was necessary 
 he should carry as little weight as possible. Painters talk of the 
 difficulty of expressing the existence of compound passions in the 
 same features at the same moment : It would be no less difficult 
 for the moralist to analyze the mixed motives which unite to form 
 the impulse of our actions. Richard Waverley read and satisfied 
 himself, from history and sound argument, that, in the words of the 
 old song, 
 
 Passive obedience was a jest. 
 And pshaw ! was non-resistance; 
 
 yet reason would have probably been unable to combat and re- 
 move hereditai7 prejudice, could Richard have anticipated that 
 his elder brother. Sir Everard, taking to heart an early disappoint- 
 ment, would have remained a bachelor at seventy-two. The pros- 
 pect of succession, however remote, might in that case have led 
 him to endure dragging through the greater part of his life as 
 "Master Richard at the Hall, the baronet's brother," in the hope 
 that ere its conclusion he should be distinguished as Sir Richard 
 Waverley of Waverley-Honour, successor to a princely estate, and 
 
WAVERLEY. 31 
 
 to extended political connexions as head of the county interest in 
 ■the shire where it lay. But this was a consummation of things 
 not to be expected at Richard's outset, when Sir Everard was 
 in the prime of life, and certain to be an acceptable suitor in 
 almost any family, whether wealth or beauty should be the object 
 •of his pursuit, and when, indeed, his speedy marriage was a report 
 which regularly amused the neighbourhood once a-year. His 
 younger brother saw no practicable road to independence save 
 that of relying upon his own exertions, and adopting a political 
 creed more consonant both to reason and his own interest than 
 the hereditary faith of Sir Everard in High-church and in the 
 house of Stewart., He therefore read his recantation at the begin- 
 ning of his career, and entered life as an avowed Whig, and friend 
 ■of the Hanover succession. 
 
 The ministry of George the First's time were prudently anxious 
 to diminish the phalanx of opposition. The Tory nobility, de- 
 pending for their reflected lustre upon the sunshine of a court, 
 had for some time been gradually reconciling themselves to the 
 Tiew dynasty. But the wealthy country gentlemen of England, a 
 ■rank which retained, with much of ancient manners and primitive 
 integrity, a great proportion of obstinate and unyielding prejudice, 
 ■stood aloof in haughty and sullen opposition, and cast many a look 
 of mingled regret and hope to Bois le Due, Avignon, and Italy.'* 
 The accession of the near relation of one of those steady and 
 inflexible opponents was considered as a means of bringing over 
 more converts, and therefore Richard Waverley met with a share 
 ■of ministerial favour, more than proportioned to his talents or his 
 political importance. It was, however, discovered that he had 
 respectable talents for public business, and the first admittance to 
 the minister's levee being negotiated, his success became rapid. 
 Sir Everard learned from the public News- Letter, — first, that 
 Richard Waverley, Esquire, was returned for the ministerial 
 borough of Barterfaith ; next, that Richard Waverley, Esquire, 
 had taken a distinguished part in the debate upon the Excise Bill 
 in the support of government ; and, lastly, that Richard Waverley, 
 Esquire, had been honoured with a seat at one of those boards, 
 where the pleasure of serving the country is combined with other 
 important gratifications, which, to render them the more acceptable, 
 occur regularly once a-quarter. 
 
 Although these events followed each other so closely that the 
 sagacity of the editor of a modern newspaper would have pre- 
 saged the two last even while he announced the first, yet they 
 came upon Sir Everard gradually, and drop by drop, as it were, 
 distilled through the cool and procrastinating alembic of Dyer's 
 
^2 WAVi;RLEY. 
 
 Weekly Letter* For it may be observed in passing, that instead 
 of those mail-coaches, by means of which every mechanic at his 
 sixpenny club may nightly learn from twenty contradictory chan- 
 nels the yesterday's news of the capital, a weekly post brought, in 
 those days, to Waverley-Honour, a Weekly Intelligencer, which, 
 after it had gratified Sir Everard's curiosity, his sister's, and that of 
 his aged butler, was regularly transferred from the Hall to the 
 Rectory, from the Rectory to Squire Stubbs' at the Grange, from 
 the Squire to the Baronet's steward at his neat white house on the 
 heath, from the steward to the bailiff, and from him through a 
 huge circle of honest dames and gaffers, by whose hard and homy 
 hands it was generally worn to pieces in about a month after its- 
 arrival. 
 
 This slow succession of intelligence was of some advantage to 
 Richard Waverley in the case before us ; for, had the sum total of 
 his enormities reached the ears of Sir Everard at once, there can be 
 no doubt that the new commissioner would have had little reason 
 to pique himself on the success of his politics. The Baronet, 
 although the mildest of human beings, was not without sensitive 
 points in his character; his brother's conduct had wounded these 
 deeply; the Waverley estate was fettered by no entail (for it had 
 never entered into the head of any of its former possessors that 
 one of their progeny could be guilty of the atrocities laid by Dyer's 
 Letter to the door of Richard), and if it had, the marriage of the 
 proprietor might have been fatal to a collateral heir. These various 
 ideas floated through the brain of Sir Everard, without, however, 
 producing any determined conclusion. 
 
 He examined the tree of his genealogy, which, emblazoned with 
 many an emblematic mark of honour and heroic achievement, 
 hung upon the well-varnished wainscot of his hall. The nearest 
 descendants of Sii Hildebrand Waverley, failing those of his eldest 
 son Wilfred, of whom Sir Everard and his brother were the only 
 representatives, were, as this honoured register informed him (and, 
 indeed, as he himself well knew), the Waverle^s of Highley Park, 
 com. Hants ; with whom the main branch, or rather stock, of the 
 house had renounced all connection, since the great lawsuit 
 in 1670. 
 
 This degenerate scion had committed a farther offence against 
 the head and source of their gentility, by the intermarriage of their 
 representative with Judith, heiress of Oliver Bradshawe, of High- 
 ley Park, whose arms, the same with those of Bradshawe the regi- 
 cide, they had quartered with the ancient coat of Waverley. These 
 offences, however, had vanished from Sir Everard's recollection 
 in the heat of his resentment; and had Lawyer Clippurse, for 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 33 
 
 whom his groom was dispatched express, arrived but an hour 
 earlier, he might have had the benefit of drawing a new settlement 
 of the lordship and manor of Waverley-Honour, with all its depen- 
 dencies. But an hour of cool reflection is a great matter, when 
 employed in weighing the comparative evil of two measures, to 
 neither of which we are internally partial. Lawyer Clippurse found 
 his patron involved in a deep study, which he was too respectful 
 to disturb, otherwise than by producing his paper and leathern 
 ink-case, as prepared to minute his honour's commands. Even 
 this slight manoeuvre was embarrassing to Sir Everard, who felr it 
 as a reproach to his indecision. He looked at the attorney with 
 some desire to issue his fiat, when the sun, emerging from behind 
 a cloud, poured at once its chequered light through the stained 
 window of the gloomy cabinet in which they were seated. The 
 Baronet's eye, as he raised it to the splendour, fell right upon the cen- 
 tral scutcheon, impressed with the same device which his ancestor 
 ■\\'as said to have borne in the field of Hastings ; three ermines pas- 
 sant, argent, in a field azure, with its appropriate motto, sans tache. 
 " iVIay our name rather perish," exclaimed Sir Everard, " than that 
 ancient and loyal symbol should be blended with the dishonoured 
 insignia of a traitorous Roundhead." 
 
 All this was the effect of the glimpse of a sunbeam, just sufficient 
 to light Lawyer Clippurse to mend his pen. The pen was mended in 
 vain. The attorney was dismissed, with directions to hold himself 
 in readiness on the first summons. 
 
 The apparition of Lawyer Clippurse at the Hall occasioned 
 much speculation in that portion of the world to which Waverley- 
 Honour formed the centre. But the more judicious politicians of 
 this microcosm argued yet worse consequences to Richard Wa- 
 verley from a movement which shortly followed his apostacy. This 
 was no less than an excursion of the Baronet in his coach-and-six, 
 with four attendants in rich liveries, to make a visit of some dura- 
 tion to a noble peer on the confines of the shire, of untainted 
 descent, steady Tory principles, and the happy father of six un- 
 married and accomplished daughters. 
 
 Sir Everard's reception in this family was, as it may be easily 
 conceived, sufficiently favourable; but of the six young ladies, his 
 taste unfortunately determined him in favour of Lady Emily, the 
 youngest, who received his attentions with an embarrassment which 
 showed, at once, that she durst not decline them, and that they 
 afforded her anything but pleasure. 
 
 Sir Everard could not but perceive something uncommon in the 
 restrained emotions which the young lady testified at the advances 
 he hazarded; but, assured by the prudent Countess that they were 
 
 c 
 
,,4 WAVERLEY. 
 
 ihe natural effects of a retired education, the sacrifice might have 
 been completed, as doubtless has happened in many similar in- 
 stances, had it not been for the courage of an elder sister, who 
 revealed to the wealthy suitor that Lady Emily's affections were 
 fixed upon a young soldier of fortune, a near relation of her own. 
 Sir Everard manifested great emotion on receiving this intelligence, 
 which was confirmed to him, in a private interview, by the young 
 lady herself, although under the m.ost dreadful apprehensions of 
 her father's indignation. 
 
 Honour and generosity were hereditary attributes of the house 
 of Waverley. With a grace and delicacy worthy the hero of a 
 romance, Sir Everard withdrew his claim to the hand of Lady 
 Emily. He had even, before leaving BlandeviUe Castle, the 
 address to extort from her father a consent to her union with the 
 object of her choice. What arguments he used on this point 
 cannot exactly be known, for Sir Everard was never supposed 
 strong in the powers of persuasion : but the young officer, imme- 
 diately after this transaction, rose in the army with' a rapidity far 
 surpassing the usual pace of unpatronised professional merit, 
 although, to outward appearance, that was aU he had to depend 
 upon. 
 
 The shock which Sir Everard encountered upon this occasion, 
 although diminished by the consciousness of having acted virtu- 
 ously and generously, had its effect upon his future life. His reso- 
 lution of marriage had been adopted in a fit of indignation ; the 
 labour of courtship did not quite suit the dignified indolence of his 
 habits ; he had but just escaped the risk of marrying a woman 
 who could never love him, and his pride could not be greatly 
 flattered by the termination of his amour, even if his heart had not 
 suffered. The result of the whole matter was his return to Waver- 
 ley-Honour, without any transfer of his affections, notwithstanding 
 the sighs and languishments of the fair tell-tale, who had revealed, 
 in mere sisterly affection, the secret of Lady Emily's attachment, 
 and in despite of the nods, winks, and inuendoes of the officious 
 lady mother, and the grave eulogiums which the Earl pronounced 
 successively on the prudence, and good sense, and admirable dis- 
 positions, of his first, second, third, fourth, and fifth daughters. 
 The memory of his unsuccessful amour was with Sir Everard, as 
 with many more of his temper, at once shy, proud, sensitive, and 
 indolent, a beacon against exposing himself to similar mortification, 
 pain, and fruitless exertion for the time to come. He continued to 
 live at Waverley-Honour in the style of an old English gentleman, 
 of an ancient descent and opulent fortune. His sister. Miss Rachel 
 Waverley, presided at his table ; and they became, by degrees, an 
 
WAVEKLEy. 
 
 35 
 
 old bachelor and an ancient maiden lady, the gentlest and kindest 
 of the votaries of celibacy. 
 
 The vehemence of Sir Everard's resentment against his brother 
 was but short-lived ; yet his dislike to the Whig and the placeman 
 though unable to stimulate him to resume any active measures 
 prejudicial to Richard's interest in the succession to the family 
 estate, continued to maintain the coldness between them. Richard 
 knew enough of the world, and of his brother's temper, to believe 
 that by any ill-considered or precipitate advances on his part, he 
 might turn passive dislike into a more active principle. It was 
 accident, therefore, which at length occasioned a renewal of their 
 intercourse. Richard had married a young woman of rank, by 
 whose family interest and private fortune he hoped to advance his 
 career. In her right, he became possessor of a manor of some 
 value, at the distance of a few miles from Waverley-Honour. 
 
 Little Edward, the hero of our tale, then in his fifth year, was 
 their only child. It chanced that the infant with his maid had 
 strayed one morning to a mile's distance from the avenue of Brere- 
 wood Lodge, his father's seat. Their attention was attracted by a 
 carriage drawn by six stately long-tailed black horses, and with as 
 much carving and gilding as would have done honour to my lord 
 mayor's. It was waiting for the owner, who was at a little distance 
 inspecting the progress of a half-built farm-house. I know not 
 whether the boy's nurse had been a Welsh or a Scotch-woman, or 
 in what manner he associated a shield emblazoned with three 
 ermines with the idea of personal property, but he no sooner 
 beheld this family emblem, than he stoutly determined on vindi- 
 cating his right to the splendid vehicle on which it was displayed. 
 The Baronet arrived while the boy's maid was in vain endeavouring 
 to make, him desist from his determination to appropriate the 
 gilded coach and six. The rencontre was at a happy moment for 
 Edward, as his uncle had been just eyeing wistfully, with some- 
 thing of a feeling like envy, the chubby boys of the stout yeoman 
 whose mansion was building by his direction. In the round-faced 
 rosy cherub before him, bearing his eye and his name, and vindi- 
 cating a hereditary title to his family, affection, and patronage, by 
 means of a tie which Sir Everard held as sacred as either Garter 
 or Blue-mantle, Providence seemed to have granted to him tht 
 very object best calculated to fiU. up the void in his hopes and 
 affections. Sir Everard returned to Waverley-Hall upon a led 
 horse, which was kept in readiness for him, while the child and his 
 attendant were sent home in the carriage to Brere-wood Lodge, 
 with such a message as opened to Richard Waverley a door of 
 reconciliation with his elder brother. 
 
 c a 
 
35 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Their intercourse, hov/ever, though thus renewed, continued to 
 be rather formal and civil, than partaking of brotherly cordiality ; 
 yet it was sufficient to the wishes of both parties. Sir Everard 
 obtained, in the frequent society of his little nephew, something 
 on which his hereditary pride might found the anticipated pleasure 
 of a continuation of his lineage, and where his kind and gentle 
 affections could at the same time'fuUy exercise themselves. For 
 Richard Waverley, he beheld in the growing attachment between 
 the uncle and nephew the means of securing his son's if not his 
 own, succession to the hereditary estate, which he felt would be 
 rather endangered than promoted by any attempt on his own part 
 towards a closer intimacy with a man of Sir Everard's habits and 
 opinions. 
 
 Thus, by a sort of tacit compromise, little Edward was per- 
 mitted to pass the greater part of the year at the Hall, and 
 appeared to stand in the same intimate relation to both families, 
 although their mutual intercourse was otherwise limited to formal 
 messages, and more formal visits. The education of the youth 
 was regulated alternately by the taste and opinions of his uncle 
 and of his father. But more of this in a subsequent chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 EDUCATION. 
 The education of our hero, Edward Waverley, was of a nature 
 somewhat desultory. In infancy, his health suffered, or was sup- 
 posed to suffer (which is quite the same thing), by the air of 
 London. As soon, therefore, as official duties, attendance on Par- 
 liament, or the prosecution of any of his plans of interest or 
 ambition, called his father to town, which was his usual residence 
 for eight months m the year, Edward was transferred to Waverley- 
 Honour, and experienced a total change of instructors and of 
 lessons, as well as of residence. This might have been remedied 
 had his father placed him under the superintendence of a permanent 
 tutor. But he considered that one of his choosing would probablv 
 have been unacceptable at Waverley-Honour, and that such a 
 selection as Sir Everard might have made,' were the matter left to 
 him, would have burdened him with a disagreeable inmate, if not a 
 pohtical spy, m his family. He therefore prevailed upon his private 
 secretaiy, a young man of taste and accomplishments, to bestow 
 an hour or two on Edward's education while at Brere-wood Lodge 
 -nd left his uncle answerable for his improvement in literature 
 .■hile an inmate at the Hall. 
 
WAVERLEY. 37 
 
 This was in some degree respectably provided for. Sir Everard's 
 chaplain, an Oxonian, who had lost his fellowship for declining to 
 take the oaths at the accession of George I., was not only an 
 excellent classical scholar, but reasonably skilled in science, and 
 master of most modern languages. He was, however, old and 
 indulgent, and the recurrent interregnum, during which Edward 
 was entirely freed from his discipline, occasioned such a relaxation 
 of authority, that the youth was permitted, in a great measure, to 
 learn as he pleased, what he pleased, and when he pleased. This 
 slackness of rule might have been ruinous to a boy of slow under- 
 standing, who, feeling labour in the acquisition of knowledge, 
 would have altogether neglected it, save for the command of a task- 
 master ; and it might have proved equally dangerous to a youth 
 whose animal spirits were more powerful than his imagination or 
 his feelings, and whom the irresistible influence of Alma would 
 have engaged in field-sports from morning till night. But the 
 character of Edward Waverley was remote from either of these. 
 His powers of apprehension were so uncommonly quick, as almost 
 to resemble intuition, and the chief care of his preceptor was to 
 prevent him, as a sportsman would phrase it, from overrunning his 
 game, that is, from acquiring his knowledge in a slight, flimsy, 
 and inadequate manner. And here the instructor had to combat 
 another propensity too often united with brilliancy of fancy and 
 vivacity of talent, — that indolence, namely, of disposition, which 
 can only be stirred by some strong motive of gratification, and 
 which renounces study as soon as curiosity is gratified, the pleasure 
 of conquering the first difficulties exhausted, and the novelty of 
 pursuit at an end. Edward would throw himself with spirit upon 
 any classical author of which his preceptor proposed the perusal, 
 make himself master of the style so far as to understand the story, 
 and, if that pleased or interested him, he finished the volume. But 
 it was in vain to attempt fixing his attention on critical distinctions 
 of philology, upon the difference of idiom, the beauty of felicitous 
 expression, or the artificial combinations of syntax. " I can read 
 and understand a Latin author," said young Edward, with the self- 
 confidence and rash reasoning of fifteen, "and Scaliger or Bentley 
 could not do much more." Alas ! while he was thus permitted to 
 read only for the gratification of his amusement, he foresaw not that 
 he was losing for ever the opportunity of acquiring habits of firm 
 and assiduous application, of gaining the art of controlling, 
 directing, and concentrating the powers of his mind for earnest 
 investigation — an art far more essential than even that intimate 
 acquaintance with classical learning which is the primary object 
 of study. 
 
38 WAVERLEY. 
 
 I am aware I maybe here reminded of the necessity of rendering 
 instruction agreeable to youth, and of Tasso's infusion of hoiiey 
 into the medicine prepared for a child ; but an age in which 
 children are taught the driest doctrines by the insinuating method 
 of instructive games, has little reason to dread the consequences 
 of study being rendered too serious or severe. The history of 
 England is now reduced to a game at cards,— the problems of 
 mathematics to "puzzles and riddles,— and the doctrines of arith- 
 metic may, we are assured, be sufficiently acquired, by spending 
 a few hours a-week at a new and complicated edition of the Royal 
 Game of the Goose. There wants but one step further, and the 
 Creed and Ten Commandments may be taught in the same manner, 
 without the necessity of the grave face, deliberate tone of recital, 
 and devout attention, hitherto exacted from the well-governed 
 childhood of this realm. It may, in the meantime, be subject of 
 serious consideration, whether those who are accustomed only tO' 
 acquire instruction through the medium of amusernent, %nay not 
 be brought to reject that which approaches under the aspect of 
 study ; whether those who learn history by the cards, may not be 
 led to prefer the means to the end ; and whether, were we to teach 
 religion in the way of sport, our pupils may not thereby be 
 gradually induced to make sport of their religion. To our young 
 hero, who was permitted to seek his instruction only according to 
 the bent of his own mind, and who, of consequence, only sought it 
 so long as it afforded him amusement, the indulgence of his tutors 
 was attended with evil consequences, which long continued to 
 influence his character, happiness, and utility. 
 
 Edward's power of imagination and love of literature, although 
 the former was vivid, and the latter ardent, were so far from 
 affording a remedy to this peculiar evil, that they rather inflamed 
 and increased its violence. The library at Waverley-Honour, 
 a large Gothic room, with double arches and a gallery, contained 
 such a miscellaneous and extensive collection of volumes as had 
 been assembled together, during the course of two hundred years, 
 by a family which had been always wealthy, and inclined, of course, 
 as a mark of splendour, to furnish their shelves with the current 
 literature of the day, without much scrutiny, or nicety of discrimi- 
 nation. Throughout this ample realm Edward was permitted to 
 roam at large. His tutor had his own studies ; and church politics 
 and controversial divinity, together with a love of learned ease, 
 though they did not withdraw his attention at stated times from 
 the progress of his patron's presumptive heir, induced him readily 
 to grasp at any apology for not extending a strict and regulated 
 survey towards his general studies. Sir Everard had never been 
 
WAVERLEY. 39 
 
 himself a student, and, like his sister Miss Rachel Waverley, he 
 held the common doctrine, that idleness is incompatible with 
 reading of any kind, and that the mere tracing the alphabetical 
 characters with the eye is in itself a useful and meritorious task, 
 without scrupulously considering what ideas or doctrines they may 
 happen to convey. With a desire of amusement, therefore, which 
 better discipline might soon have converted into a thirst for know- 
 ledge, young Waverley drove through the sea of books, like a vessel 
 without a pilot or a rudder. Nothing perhaps increases by indul- 
 gence more than a desultory habit of reading, especially under 
 such opportunities of gratifying it. I believe one reason why such 
 numerous instances of erudition occur among the lower ranks is, 
 that, with the same powers of mind, the poor student is limited to 
 a narrow circle for indulging his passion for books, and must 
 necessarily make himself master of the few he possesses ere he can 
 acquire more. Edward, on the contrary, like the epicure who only 
 deigned to take a single morsel from the sunny side of a peach, 
 read no volume a moment after it ceased to excite his curiosity or 
 interest ; and it necessarily happened, that the habit of seeking 
 only this sort of gratification rendered it daily more difficult of 
 attainment, till the passion for reading, like other strong appetites, 
 produced by indulgence a sort of satiety. 
 
 Ere he attained this indifference, however, he had read, and 
 stored in a memory of uncommon tenacity, much curious, though 
 ill-arranged and miscellaneous information. In English literature 
 he was master of Shakspeare and Milton, of our earlier dramatic 
 authors, of many picturesque and interesting passages from our old 
 historical chronicles, and was particularly well acquainted with 
 Spenser, Drayton, and other poets who have exercised themselves 
 on romantic fiction, of all themes the most fascinating to a youthful 
 imagination, before the passions have roused themselves, and 
 demand poetry of a more sentimental description. In this respect 
 his acquaintance with Italian opened him yet a wider range. He 
 had perused the numerous romantic poems, which, from the days 
 of Pulci, have been a favourite exercise of the wits of Italy, and had 
 sought gratification in the numerous collections of novelle, which 
 were brought forth by the genius of that elegant though luxurious 
 nation, in emulation of the Decameron. In classical literature, 
 Waverley had made the usual progress, and read the usual author^ , 
 and the French had afforded him an almost exhaustless collection 
 of memoirs, scarcely more faithful than romances, and of -romances 
 so well written as hardly to be distinguished from memoirs. The 
 splendid pages of Froissart, with his heart-stirring and eye-dazzling 
 descriptions of war and of tournaments, were among his chief 
 
^ WAVERLEY. 
 
 favourites ; and from those of Brantome and de la Noue he learned 
 to compare the wild and loose yet superstitious character of the 
 nobles of the League, with the stern, rigid, and sometimes turbulent 
 disposition of the Huguenot party. The Spanish had contributed 
 to his stock of chivalrous and romantic lore. The earlier literat^ire 
 of the northern nations did not escape the study of one who read 
 rather to awaken the imagination than to benefit the understand- 
 ing. And j'et, knowing much that is known but to few, Edward , 
 Waverley might justly be considered as ignorant, since he knew 
 little of what adds dignity to man, and qualifies him to support and 
 adorn an elevated situation in society. 
 
 The occasional attention of his parents might indeed have been 
 of service, to prevent the dissipation of mind incidental to such a 
 desultory course of reading. But his mother died in the seventh 
 year after the reconciliation between the brothers, and Richard 
 Waverley himself, who, after this event, resided more constantly in , 
 London, was too much interested in his own plans of wealth and 
 ambition, to notice more respecting Edward, than that he was of 
 a very bookish turn, and probably destined to be a bishop. If he 
 could have discovered and analyzed his son's waking dreams, he 
 would have formed a very different conclusion. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 I HAVE already hinted, that the dainty, squeamish, and fastidious 
 taste acquired by a _surfeit of idle reading, had not only rendered 
 our hero unfit for serious and sober study, but had even disgusted 
 him in some degree with that in which he had hitherto indulged. 
 
 He was in his sixteenth year, when his habits of abstraction and 
 love of solitude became so much marked, as to excite Sir Everard's 
 affectionate apprehension. He tried to counterbalance these pro- 
 pensities, by engaging his nephew in field-sports, which had been 
 the chief pleasure of his own youthful days. But although Edward 
 eagerly carried the gun for one season, yet when practice had given 
 him some dexterity, the pastime ceased to afford him amusement. 
 
 In the succeeding spring, the perusal of old Isaac Walton's 
 fascinating volume determined Edward to become " a brother ol 
 the angle." But of all diversions which ingenuity ever devised for 
 the relief of idleness, fishing is the worst qualified to amuse a man 
 who is at once indolent and impatient ; and our hero's rod was 
 speedily flung aside. Society and example, which, more than any 
 other motives, master and sway the natural bent of our passions, 
 
WAVERLEY. 41 
 
 might have had their usual effect upon the youthful visionary. But 
 the neighbourhood vifas thinly inhabited, and the home-bred young 
 squires whom it afforded, were not of a class fit to form Edward's 
 usual companions, far less to excite him to emulation in the 
 practice of those pastimes which composed the serious business of 
 their lives. 
 
 There were a few other youths of better education, and a more 
 liberal character ; but from their society also our hero was in some 
 degree excluded. Sir Everard had, upon the death of Queen 
 Anne, resigned his seat in Parliament, and, as his age increased 
 and the number of his contemporaries diminished, had gradually 
 withdrawn himself from society; so that when, upon any particular 
 occasion, Edward mingled with accomplished and well-educated 
 young men of his own rank and expectations, he felt an inferiority 
 in their company, not so much from deficiency 'of information, as 
 from the want of the skill to command and to arrange that which 
 he possessed. A deep and increasing sensibility added to this dis- 
 like of society. The idea of having committed the slightest sole- 
 cism in politeness, whether real or imaginaiy, was agony to him ; 
 for perhaps even guilt itself does not impose upon some minds so 
 keen a sense of shame and remorse, as a modest, sensitive, and in- 
 experienced youth feels from the consciousness of having neglected 
 etiquette, or excited ridicule. Where we are not at ease, we cannot 
 be happy ; and therefore it is not sui-prising, that Edward Waverley 
 supposed that he disliked and was unfitted for society, merely 
 because he had not yet acquired the habit of living in it with ease 
 and comfort, and of reciprocally giving and receiving pleasure. 
 
 The hours he spent with his uncle and aunt were exhausted in 
 listening to the oft-repeated tale of narrative old age. Yet even 
 there his imagination, the predominant faculty of his mind, was 
 frequently excited. Family tradition and genealogical ' history, 
 upon which much of Sir Everard's discourse turned, is the very 
 reverse of amber, which, itself a valuable substance, usually in- 
 cludes flies, straws, and other trifles ; whereas these studies, being 
 themselves very insignificant and trifiing, do nevertheless serve to 
 perpetuate a great deal of what is rare and valuable in ancient 
 manners, and to record many curious and minute facts, which 
 could have been preserved and conveyed through no other medium. 
 If, therefore, Edward Waverley yawned at times over the dry 
 deduction of his line of ancestors, with their various intermarriages, 
 and inwardly deprecated the remorseless and protracted accuracy 
 with which the worthy Sir Everard rehearsed the various degrees 
 of propinquity between the house of Waverley-Hanour and the 
 doughty barons, knights, and squires, to whom they stood allied ; 
 
42 WAVERLEY. 
 
 if (notwithstanding his obligations to the three ei mines passant) he 
 sometimes cursed in his heart the jargon of heraldry, its griffins, 
 its moldwarps, its wyverns, and its dragons, with all the bitterness 
 of Hotspur himself, there were moments when these communica- 
 cations interested his fancy and rewarded his attention. 
 
 The deeds of Wilibert of Waverley in the Holy Land, his long 
 absence and perilous adventures, his supposed death, and his return 
 in the evening when the betrothed of his heart had wedded the 
 hero who had protected her from insult and oppression during his 
 absence ; the generosity with which the Crusader relinquished his 
 claims, and sought in a neighbouring cloister that peace which 
 passeth not away ; * — to these and similar tales he would hearken 
 till his heart glowed and his eye glistened. Nor was he less 
 affected, when his aunt, Mrs. Rachel, narrated the sufferings and 
 fortitude of Lady Alice Waverley during the Great Civil War. The 
 benevolent features of the venerable spinster kindled into more 
 majestic expression, as she told how Charles had, after the field of 
 Worcester, found a day's refuge at Waverley-Honour, and how, 
 when a troop of cavalry were approaching to search the mansion. 
 Lady Alice dismissed her youngest son with a handful of domestics, 
 charging them to make good with their lives an hour's diversion, 
 that the king might have that space for escape. " And, God help 
 her," would Mrs. Rachel continue, fixing her eyes upon the heroine's 
 portrait as she spoke, " full dearly did she purchase the safety of 
 her prince with the life of her darling child. They brought him 
 here a prisoner, mortally wounded ; and you may trace the drops 
 of his blood from the great hall door along the little gallery, and 
 up to the saloon, where they laid him down to die at his mother's 
 feet. But there was comfort exchanged between them ; for he 
 knew, from the glance of his mother's eye, that the purpose of his 
 desperate defence was attained. Ah ! I remember," she continued, 
 "I remember well to have seen one that knew and loved him. Miss 
 Lucy St. Aubin lived and died a maid for his sake, though one of 
 the most beautiful and wealthy matches in this country ; all the 
 world ran after her, but she wore widow's mourning all her life for 
 poor William, for they were betrothed though not married, and 
 
 died in 1 cannot think of the date : but I remember, in the 
 
 November of that very year, when she found herself sinking, she 
 desired to be brought to Waverley-Honour once more, and visited 
 all the places where she had been with my grand-uncle, and caused 
 the carpets to be raised that she might trace the impression of hia 
 blood, and if tears could have washed it out, it had not been there 
 now ; for there was not a dry eye in the house. You would have 
 thought, Edward, that the very trees mourned for her, for their 
 
WAVERLEY. 43 
 
 leaves dropt around her without a gust of wind ; and, indeed, she 
 looked like one that would never see them green again." 
 
 From such legends our hero would steal away to indulge the 
 fancies they excited. In the corner of the large and sombre library, 
 with no other light than was afforded by the decaying brands on 
 its ponderous and ample hearth, he would exercise for hours that 
 interna:l sorcery, by which past or imaginary events are presented 
 in action, as it were, to the eye of the muser. Then arose in long 
 and fair array the splendour of the bridal feast at Waverley- Castle ; 
 the tall and emaciated form of its real lord, as he stood in his pil- 
 grim's weeds, an unnoticed spectator of the festivities of his sup- 
 posed heir and intended bride ; the electrical shock occasioned by 
 the discovery ; the springing of the vassals to arms ; the^astonish- 
 ment of the bridegroom ; the terror and confusion of the bride ; 
 the agony with which Wilibert observed, that her heart as well as 
 consent was in these nuptials ; the air of dignity, yet of deep feeling 
 with which he flung down the half-drawn sword, and turned away 
 for ever from the house of his ancestors. Then would he change 
 the scene, and fancy would at his wish represent Aunt Rachel's 
 tragedy. He saw the Lady Waverley seated in her bower, her ear 
 strained to every sound, her heart throbbing ^ with double agony, 
 now listening to the decaying echo of the hoofs of the king's horse, 
 and when that had died away, hearing in every breeze that shook 
 the trees of the park, the noise of the remote skirmish. A distant 
 sound is heard like the rushing of a swollen stream ; it comes 
 nearer, and Edward can plainly distinguish the galloping of horses, 
 the cries and shouts of men, with straggling pistol-shots between, 
 rolling forwards to the hall. The lady starts up — a terrified menial 
 rushes in — but why pursue such a description ? 
 
 As living in this ideal world became daily more delectable to our 
 hero, interruption was disagreeable in proportion. The extensive 
 domain that surrounded the Hall, which, far exceeding the dimen- 
 sions of a park, was usually termed Waverley-Chase, had originally 
 been forest ground, and still, though broken by extensive glades, 
 in which the young deer were sporting, retained its pristine and ■ 
 savage character. It was traversed by broad avenues, in many 
 places half grown up with brushwood, where the beauties of former 
 days used to take their stand to see the stag coursed with grey- 
 hounds, or to gain an aim at him with the cross-bow. In one spot, 
 distinguished by a moss-grown Gothid monument, which retained 
 the name of Queen's Standing, Elizabeth herself was said to have 
 pierced seven bucks with her own arrows. This was a very 
 favourite haunt of Waverley. At other times, with his gun and 
 his spaniel, which served as an apology to others, and with a book 
 
44 WAVERLEY. 
 
 in his pocket, which perhaps served as an apology to himself, he 
 used to pursue one of these long avenues, which, after an ascend- 
 ing sweep of four miles, gradually narrowed into a rude and con- 
 tracted path through the cliffy and woody pass called Mirkwood 
 Dingle, and opened suddenly upon a deep, dark, and small lake, 
 named, from the same cause, Mirkwood-Mere. There stood, in 
 former times, a solitary tower upon a rock almost surrounded by 
 the water, which had acquired the name of the Strength of 
 Waverley, because, in perilous times, it had often been the refuge 
 of the family. There, in the wars of York and Lancaster, the last 
 adherents of the Red Rose who dared to maintain her cause, 
 carried on an harassing and predatory warfare, till the stronghold 
 was reduced by the celebrated Richard of Gloucester. Here, too, 
 a party of cavaliers long maintained themselves under Nigel 
 Waverley, elder brother of that WiUiam whose fate Aimt Rachel 
 commemorated. Through these scenes it was that Edward loved 
 to "chew the -.cud of sweet and bitter fancy," and, like a child 
 among his toys, culled and arranged, from the splendid yet useless 
 imagery and emblems with which his imagination was stored, 
 visions as brilliant and as fading as those of an evening sky. The 
 effect of this indulgence upon his temper and character will appear 
 in the nex't chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 
 
 From the minuteness with which I have traced Waverley's 
 pursuits, and the bias which these unavoidably communicated to 
 his imagination, the reader may perhaps anticipate, in the follow- 
 ing tale, an imitation of the romance of Cervantes. But he will do 
 my prudence injustice in the supposition. My intention is not to 
 follow the steps of that inimitable author, in describing such total 
 perversion of intellect as misconstrues tjie objects actually pre- 
 sented to the senses, but that more common aberration from sound 
 judgment, which apprehends occurrences indeed in their reality, 
 but communicates to them a tincture of its own romantic tone and 
 colouring. So far was Edward Waverley from expecting general 
 sympathy with his own feelings, or concluding that the present 
 state of things was calculated to exhibit the reality of those visions 
 in which he loved to indulge, that he dreaded nothing more than 
 the detection of such sentiments as were dictated by his musings. 
 He neither had nor wished to have a confidant, with whom to com- 
 municate his reveries; and so sensible was he of the ridicule 
 
WAVERLEY. 45 
 
 attached to them, that, had he been to choose between any punish- 
 ment short of ignominy, and the necessity of giving a cold and 
 composed account of the ideal world in which he lived the better 
 part of his days, I think he would not have hesitated to prefer'the 
 former infliction. This secrecy became doubly precious, as he felt 
 in advancing life the influence of the awakening passions. Female 
 forms of exquisite grace and beauty began to mingle in his mental 
 adventures ; nor was he long without looking abroad to compare 
 the creatures of his own imagination with the females of actual life. 
 
 The list of the beauties who displayed their hebdomadal finery 
 at the parish church of Waverley was neither numerous nor select. 
 By far the most passable was Miss Sissly, or, as she rather chose 
 to be called, Miss Cecilia Stubbs, daughter of Squire Stubbs at the 
 Grange. I know not whether it was by the " merest accident in 
 the world," a phrase which, from female lips, does not always ex- 
 clude malice prepense, or whether it was from a conformity of taste, 
 that Miss Cecilia more than once crossed Edward in his favourite 
 walks through Waverley- Chase. He had not as yet assumed 
 corn-age to accost her on these occasions ; but the meeting was not 
 without its effect. A romantic lover is a sti^ange idolater, who 
 sometimes cares not out of what log he frames the object of his 
 adoration ; at least, if nature has given that object any passable 
 proportion of personal charms, he can easily play the Jeweller and 
 Dervise in the Oriental tale,* and supply her richly, out of the 
 stores of his o\vn imagination, with supernatural beauty, and all 
 the properties of intellectual wealth. 
 
 But ere the charms of Miss Cecilia Stubbs had erected her into 
 a positive goddess, or elevated her at least to a level with the saint, 
 her namesake, Mrs. Rachel Waverley gained some intimation 
 which determined her to prevent the approaching apotheosis. 
 Even the most simple and unsuspicious of the female sex have 
 (God bless them ! ) an instinctive sharpness of perception in such 
 matters, which sometimes goes the length of observing partialities 
 that never existed, but rarely misses to detect such as pass actually 
 under their observation. Mrs. Rachel applied herself with great 
 prudence, not to combat, but to elude, the approaching danger, 
 and suggested to her brother the necessity that the heir of his 
 house should see something more of the world than was consistent 
 with constant residence at Waverley-Honour. 
 
 Sir Everard would not at first listen to a proposal which went to 
 
 sepai-ate his nephew from him. Edward was a little bookish, he 
 
 admitted ; but youth, he had always heard, was the season for 
 
 ■■earning, and, no doubt, when his rage for letters was abated, and 
 
 is head fully stocked with loiowledge, his nephew would take to 
 
46 WAVERLEY. 
 
 field sports and country business. He had often, he said, himself 
 regretted that he had not spent some time in study during his 
 youth : he would neither have shot nor hunted with less skill, and 
 he might have made the roof of St. Stephen's echo to longer ora- 
 tions than were comprised in those zealous Noes, with which, 
 when a member of the House during Godolphin's administration, 
 he encountered every measure of government. 
 
 Aunt Rachel's anxiety, however, lent her address to carry her 
 point. Every representative of their house had visited foreign 
 parts, or served his country in the army, before he settled for life 
 at Waverley-Honour, and she appealed for the truth of her asser- 
 tion to the genealogical pedigree ; an authority which Sir Everard 
 was never known to contradict. In short, a proposal was made to 
 Mr. Richard Waverley, that his son should travel, under the direc- 
 tion of his present tutor, Mr. Pembroke, with a suitable allowance 
 from the Baronet's liberality. The father himself saw no objection 
 to this overture ; but upon mentioning it casually at the table of 
 the Minister, the great man looked grave. The reason was ex- 
 plained in private. The unhappy turn of Sir Everard's politics, 
 the Minister observed, was such as would render it highly improper 
 that a young gentleman of such hopeful prospects should travel on 
 the Continent with a tutor doubtless of his uncle's choosing, and 
 directing his course by his instructions. What might Mr. Edward 
 Waverley's society be at Paris, what at Rome, where all manner of 
 snares were spread by the Pretender and his sons — tliese were 
 points for Mr. Waverley to consider. This he could himself say, 
 that he knew his Majesty had such a just sense of Mr. Richard 
 Waverley's merits, that if his son adopted the army for a few years, 
 a troop, he believed, might be reckoned upon in one of the dragoon 
 regiments lately returned from Flanders. 
 
 A hint thus conveyed and enforced was not to be neglected with 
 impunity; and Richard Waverley, though with great dread of 
 shocking his brother's prejudices, deemed he could not avoid 
 accepting the commission thus offered him for his son. The truth 
 is, he calculated much, and justly, upon Sir Everard's fondness for 
 Edward, which made him unlikely to resent any step that he might 
 take in due submission to parental authority. Two letters an- 
 nounced this determination to the Baronet and his nephew. The 
 latter barely communicated the fact, and pointed out the necessary 
 preparation for joining his regiment. To his brother, Richard was 
 more diffuse and circuitousi He coincided with him, in the most 
 flattering manner, in the propriety of his son's seeing a little more 
 of the world, and was even humble in expressions, of gratitude for 
 his proposed assistance ; was, however, deeply concerned that it 
 
WAVERLEY. ^7 
 
 was now, unfortunately, not in Edward's power exactly to comply 
 with the plan which had been chalked out by his best friend and 
 benefactor. He himself had thought with pain on the boy's in- 
 activity, at an age when all his ancestors had borne arms ; even 
 Royalty itself had deigned to inquire whether young Waverley was 
 not now in Flanders, at an age when his grandfather was already 
 bleeding for his king in the Great Civil War. This was accom- 
 panied by an offer of a troop of horse. What could he do ? There 
 was no time to consult his brother's inclinations, even if he could 
 have conceived there might be objections on his part to his 
 nephew's following the glorious career of his predecessors. And, 
 in short, that Edward was now (the intermediate steps of cornet 
 and lieutenant being overleapt with great agility) Captain Waver- 
 ley, of Gardiner's regiment of dragoons, which he must join in their 
 quarters at Dundee in Scotland, in the course of a month. 
 
 Sir Everard Waverley received this intimation with a mixture of 
 feelings. At the period of the Hanoverian succession he had 
 withdrawn from parliament, and his conduct, in the memorable 
 year 1715, had not been altogether unsuspected. There were 
 reports of private musters of tenants and horses in Waverley-Chase 
 by moonlight, and of cases of carbines and pistols purchased in 
 Holland, and addressed to the Baronet, but intercepted by the 
 vigilance of a riding officer of the excise, who was afterwards tossed 
 in a blanket on a moonless night, by an association of stout yeo- 
 men, for his officiousness. Nay, it was even said, that at the arrest 
 of Sir William Wyndham, the leader of the Toiy party, a letter 
 from Sir Everard was found in the pocket of his night-gown. But 
 there was no overt act which an attainder could be founded on ; 
 and Government, contented with suppressing the insurrection of 
 1715, felt it neither prudent nor safe to push their vengeance 
 farther than against those unfortunate gentlemen who actually 
 took up arms. 
 
 Nor did Sir Everard's apprehensions of personal consequences 
 seem to correspond with the reports spread among his Whig 
 neighbours. It was well known that he had supplied with money 
 several of the distressed Northumbrians and Scotchmen, who, after 
 being made prisoners at Preston in Lancashire, were imprisoned in 
 Newgate and the Marshalsea, and it was his solicitor and ordinary 
 counsel who conducted the defence of some of these unfortunate 
 gentlemen at their trial. It was generally supposed, however, that, 
 had ministers possessed any real proof of Sir Everard's accession 
 to the rebellion, he either would not have ventured thus to brave 
 the existing government, or at least would not have done so with 
 impunity. The feelings which then dictated his proceedings, were 
 
48 WAVERLEY. 
 
 those of a young man, and at an agitating period. Since that time 
 Sir Everard's jacobitism had been gradually decaying, like a fire 
 which burns oat for want of fuel. His Tory and High-church 
 principles were kept up by some occasional exercise at elections 
 and quarter-sessions ; but those respecting hereditary right were 
 fallen into a sort of abeyance. Yet it jarred severely upon his 
 feelings, that his nephew should go into the army under the Bruns- 
 wick dynasty ; and the more so, as, independent of his high and 
 conscientious ideas of paternal authority, it was impossible, or at 
 least highly imprudent, to interfere authoritatively to prevent it. 
 This suppressed vexation gave rise to many poohs and pshaws, 
 which were placed to the account of an incipient fit of gout, until, 
 having sent for the Army List, the worthy Baronet consoled him- 
 self with reckoning the descendants of the houses of genuine 
 loyalty, Mordaunts, Granvilles, and Stanleys, whose names were to 
 be found in that military record ; and, calling up all his feelings of 
 family grandeur and warlike glory, he concluded, with logic some- 
 thing like FalstafT's, that when war was at hand, although it were 
 shame to be on any side but one, it were worse shame to be idle 
 than to be on the worst side, though blacker than usurpation could 
 make it. As for Aunt Rachel, her scheme had not exactly termi- 
 nated according to her wishes, but she was under the necessity of 
 submitting to circumstances ; and her mortification was diverted 
 by the employment she found in fitting out her nephew for the 
 campaign, and greatly consoled by the prospect of beholding him 
 blaze in complete uniform. 
 
 Edward Waverley himself received with animated and undefined 
 surprise this most unexpected intelligence. It was, as a fine old 
 poem expresses it, "like a fire to heather set," that covers a 
 solitary hill with smoke, and illumines it at the same time with 
 dusky fire. His tutor, or, I should say, Mr. Pembroke, for lie 
 scarce assumed the name of tutor, picked up about Edward's room 
 some fragments of irregular verse, which he appeared to have 
 composed under the influence of the agitating feelings occasioned 
 by this sudden page being turned up to him in the book of life. 
 The doctor, who was a believer in all poetry which was composed 
 by his friends, and written out in fair straight lines, with a capital 
 at the beginning of each, communicated this treasure to Aunt 
 Rachel, who, with her spectacles dimmed with tears, transferred 
 them to her common-place' book, among choice receipts for 
 cookeiy arid medicine, favourite texts, and portions from High- 
 church divines, and a few songs, amatory and jacobitical, which 
 she had caroll'd in her younger days, from whence her nephew's 
 poetical tentamina were extracted, when the volume itself, with 
 
WAVERLEY. 49 
 
 Other authentic records of the Waverley family, were exposed to 
 the inspection of the unworthy editor of this memorable history. 
 If they afford the reader no higher amusement, they will serve, at 
 least, better than narrative of any kind, to acquaint him with the 
 wild and irregular spirit of our hero : — 
 
 Late, when the Autumn evening fell 
 On Mirkwood-Mere's romantic dell. 
 The lake return'd, in chasten'd gleam, 
 The purple cloud, the golden beam : 
 Reflected in the ciystal pool. 
 Headland and bank lay fair and cool ; 
 The weather-tinted rock and tower. 
 Each drooping tree, each fairy flower, 
 So true, so soft, the mirror gave. 
 As if there lay beneath the wave. 
 Secure from trouble, toil, and care, 
 A world than earthly world more fair. 
 
 But distant winds began to wake. 
 And rouse the Genius of the Lake ! 
 He heard the groaning of the oak. 
 And donn'd at once his sable cloak, 
 As warrior, at the battle cry. 
 Invests him with his panoply : 
 Then as the whirlwind nearer press'd, 
 He 'gan to shake his foamy crest 
 O'er furrow'd brow and blacken'd cheek, 
 And bade his surge in thunder speak. 
 In wild and broken eddies whirl'd 
 Flitted that fond ideal world. 
 And, to the shore in tumult tost, 
 The realms of fairy bliss were lost. 
 
 Yet, with a stern delight and strange, 
 I saw the spirit-stirring change. 
 As warr'd the wind with wave and wood. 
 Upon the ruin'd tower I stood, 
 And felt my heart more strongly bound, 
 Responsive to the lofty sound. 
 While, joying in the mighty roar, 
 I mourn'd that tranquil scene no more. 
 
 So, on the idle dreams of youth, 
 Breaks the loud trumpet-call of truth, 
 Bids each fair vision pass away. 
 Like landscape on the lake that lay, 
 As fair, as flitting, and as frail. 
 As that which fled the Autumn gale — 
 For ever dead to fancy's eye 
 Be each gay form that glided by. 
 While dreams of love and lady's charms 
 Give place to honour and to arms ! 
 
50 , WAVERLEY. 
 
 In snber prose, as perhaps these verses intimate less decidedly, 
 the transient idea of Miss Cecilia Stubbs passed from Captain 
 Waverley's heart amid the turmoil which his new destinies excited. 
 She appeared, indeed, in full splendour in her father's pew upon the 
 Sunday when he attended service for the last time at the old parish 
 church, upon which occasion, at the request of his uncle and Aunt 
 Rachel, he was induced (nothing lot;h, if the truth must be told) to 
 present himself in full uniform. 
 
 There is no better antidote against entertaining too high an 
 opinion of othei's, than having an excellent one of ourselves at the 
 very same time. Miss Stubbs had indeed summoned up every 
 assistance which art could afford to beauty ; but, alas ! hoop, 
 patches, frizzled locks, and a new mantua of genuine French silk, 
 were lost upon a young officer of dragoons, who wore, for the first 
 time, his gold-laced hat, jack-boots, and broadsword. I know not 
 whether, like the champion of an old ballad, 
 
 His heart was all on honour bent, 
 
 He could not stoop to love. 
 No lady in the land had power 
 
 His frozen heart to move ; 
 
 or whether the deep and flaming bars of embroidered gold, which 
 now fenced his breast, defied the artillery of Cecilia's eyes ; but 
 every arrow was launched at him in vain. 
 
 Yet did I mark where Cupid's shaft did light ; 
 It lighted not on little western fiower. 
 But on bold yeoman, flower of all the west, 
 Hight Jonas Culbertfield, the steward's son. 
 
 Craving pardon for my heroics (which I am unable in certain 
 cases to resist giving way to), it is a melancholy fact, that my history 
 must here take leave of the fair Cecilia, who, like many a daughter 
 of Eve, after the departure of Edward, and th^ dissipation of cer- 
 tain idle visions which she had adopted, quietly contented herself 
 with a.j>is-aller, and gave her hand, at the distance of six months 
 to the aforesaid Jonas, son of the Baronet's steward, and heir (no 
 unfertile prospect) to a steward's fortune ; besides the snug proba- 
 bility of succeeding to his father's office. All these advantages 
 nioved Squire Stubbs, as much as the ruddy brow and manly form 
 of the suitor influenced his daughter to abate somewhat in the 
 article of their gentry, and so the match was concluded. None 
 seemed more gratified than Aunt Rachel, who had hitherto looked 
 rather askance upon the presumptuous damsel (as much so, perad- 
 venture, as her nature would permit), but who, on the first appear- 
 ance of the new-married pair at church, honoured the bride with a 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 SI 
 
 smile and a profound courtesy, in presence of the rector, the curate, 
 the clerk, and the whole congregation of the united parishes of 
 Waverley cum Beverley. 
 
 I beg pardon, once and for all, of those readers who take up 
 novels merely for amusement, for plaguing them so long with old- 
 fashioned politics, and Whig and Tory, and Hanoverians and 
 Jacobites. The truth is, I cannot promise them that this story shall 
 be intelligible, not to say probable, without it. My plan requires 
 that I should explain the motives on which its action proceeded ; 
 and these motives necessarily arose from the feelings, prejudices, 
 and parties of the times. I do not invite my fair readers, whose sex 
 and impatience give them the greatest right to complain of these 
 circumstances, into a flying chariot drawn by hippogriffs, or moved 
 by enchantment. Mine is a humble English post-chaise, drawn 
 upon four wheels, and keeping his Majesty's highway. Such as 
 dislike the vehicle may leave it at the next halt, and wait for the 
 conveyance of Prince Hussein's tapestry, or Malek the Weaver's 
 flying sentry-box. Those who are contented to remain with me will 
 be occasionally exposed to the dulness inseparable from heavy 
 roads, steep hills, sloughs, and other terrestrial retardations ; but, 
 with tolerable horses and a civil driver (as the advertisements have 
 it), I engage to get as soon as possible into a more picturesque and 
 romantic country, if my passengers incline to have some patience 
 with me during my first stages.* 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ADIEUS OF WAVERLEY. 
 
 It was upon the evening of this memorable Sunday that Sir 
 Everard entered the library, where he narrowly missed surprising 
 our young hero as he went through the guards of the broadsword 
 with the ancient weapon of old Sir Hildebrand, which, being pre- 
 served as an lieir-loom, usually hung over the chimney in the 
 library, beneath a picture of the knight and his horse, where the 
 features were almost entirely hidden by the knight's profusion of 
 curled hair, and the Bucephalus which he bestrode concealed by the 
 voluminous robes of the Bath with which he was decorated. Sir 
 Everard entered, and after a glance at the picture and another at his 
 nephew, began a little speech, which, however, soon dropt into the 
 natural simplicity of his common manner, agitated upon the present 
 occasion by no common feeling. " Nephew," he said ; and then, 
 as mending his phrase, " My dear Edward, it is God's will, and also 
 the will of your father, whom, under God, it is your duty to obey, 
 
 D 2 
 
52 WAVERLEY. 
 
 that you should leave us to take up the profession of arms, in which 
 so many of your ancestors have been distinguished. I have made 
 such arrangements as will enable you to take" the field as their 
 descendant, and as the probable heir of the house of Waverley ; 
 and, sir, in the field of battle you will remember what name you 
 bear. And, Edward, my dear boy, remember also that you are the 
 last of that race, and the only hope of its revival depends upon you ; 
 therefore, as far as duty and honour will permit, avoid danger — I 
 mean unnecessary danger — and keep no company with rakes, 
 gamblers, and Whigs, of whom, it is to be feared, there are but too 
 many in the service into which you are going. Your colonel, as I 
 am informed, is an excellent man — for a Presbyterian ; but you will 
 
 remember your duty to God, the Church of England, and the " ■ 
 
 (this breach ought to have been supplied, according to the rubrick, 
 with the word kmgj but as, unfortunately, that word conveyed a 
 double and embarrassing sense, one meaning de facto, and the 
 other de jure, the knight filled up the blank otherwise) — "the 
 Church of England, and all constituted authorities." Then, not 
 trusting himself with any fm-ther oratory, he carried his nephew to 
 his stables to see the horses destined for his campaign. Two were 
 black (the regimental colour), superb chargers both ; the other 
 three were stout active hacks, designed for the road, or for his 
 domestics, of whom two wei'e to attend him from the Hall ; an 
 additional groom, if necessary, might be picked up in Scotland. 
 
 " You will depart with but a small retinue," quoth the Baronet, 
 " compared to Sir Hildebrand, when he mustered before the gate of 
 the Hall a larger body of horse than your whole regiment consists 
 of. I could have wished that these twenty young fellows from my 
 estate, who have enlisted in your troop, had been to march with you 
 on your journey to Scotland. It would have been something, at 
 least ; but I am told their attendance would be thought imusual in 
 these days, when every new and foolish fashion is introduced to 
 break the natural dependence of the people upon their landlords." 
 
 Sir Everard had done his best to coiTCct this unnatural disposi- 
 tion of the times ; for he had brightened the chain of attachment 
 between the recruits and their young captain, not only by a copious 
 repast of beef and ale, by way of parting feast, but by such a 
 pecuniary donation to each individual, as tended rather to improve 
 the conviviality than the discipline of their march. After inspecting 
 the cavalry. Sir Everard again conducted his nephew to the library, 
 where he produced a letter, carefully folded, surrounded by a little 
 stripe of floss-silk, according to ancient form, and sealed with an 
 accurate impression of the Waverley coat-of-arms. It was ad- 
 dressed, with great formality, " To Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, 
 
WAVERLEY. 53 
 
 Esq.) of Bradwardine, at his principal mansion of Tully-Veolan, in 
 Perthshire, North Britain. These— By the hands of Captain 
 Edward Waverley, nephew of Sir Everard Waverley, of Waverley- 
 Honour, Bart." 
 
 The gentleman to whom this enormous greeting was addressed, 
 of whom we shall have more to say in the sequel, had been in arms 
 for the exiled family of Stewart in the year 1715, and was made 
 prisoner at Preston in Lancashire. He was of a very ancient 
 family, and somewhat emban-assed fortune ; a scholar, according to 
 the scholarship of Scotchmen, that is, his learning was more diffuse 
 than accurate, and he was rather a reader than a grammarian. Of 
 his zeal for the classic authors he is said to have given an uncom- 
 mon instance. On the road between Prestonand London he made 
 his escape from his guards ; but being afterwards found loitering 
 near the place where they had lodged the former night, he was 
 recognised, and again arrested. His companions, and even his 
 escort, were surprised at his infatuation, and could not help inquir- 
 ing, why, being once at liberty, he had not made the best of his way 
 to a place of safety ; to which he replied, that he had intended to 
 do so, but, in good faith, he had returned to seek his Titus Livius, 
 which he had forgot in the hurry of his escape.* The simplicity of 
 this anecdote struck the gentleman, who, as we before observed, 
 had managed the defence of some of those unfortunate persons, at 
 the expense of Sir Everard, and perhaps some others of the party. 
 He was, besides, himself a special admirer of the old Patavinian ; 
 and though probably his own zeal might not have carried him such 
 extravagant lengths, even to recover the edition of Sweynheim and 
 Pannartz (supposed to be the princeps), he did not the less estimate 
 the devotion of the North Briton, and in consequence exerted him- 
 self to so much purpose to remove and soften evidence, detect legal 
 flaws, et cetera, that he accomplished the final discharge and 
 deliverance of Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine from certain very 
 awkward consequences of a plea before our sovereign lord the king 
 in Westminster. 
 
 The Baron of Bradwardine, for he was generally so called in 
 Scotland (although his intimates, from his place of residence, used 
 to denominate him Tully-Veolan, or more familiarly, TuUy), no 
 sooner stood rectus in curia, than he posted down to pay his 
 respects and make his acknowledgments at Waverley-Honour. A 
 congenial passion for field-sports, and a general coincidence in 
 political opinions, cemented his friendship with Sir Everard, not- 
 withstanding the difference of their habits and studies in other 
 particulars ; and, having spent several weeks at Waverley-Honour, 
 the Baron departed with many expressions of regard, warmly 
 
54 WAVERLEY. 
 
 pressing the Baronet to return his visit, and partake of the diversion 
 of grouse-shooting upon his moors in Perthshire next season. 
 Shortly after, Mr. Bradwardine remitted from Scotland a sum in 
 reimbursement of expenses incurred in the King's High Court of 
 Westminster, which, although not quite so formidable when reduced 
 to the English denomination, had, in its original form of Scotch 
 pounds, shillings, and pence, such a formidable effect upon the 
 frame of Duncan Macwheeble, the laird's confidential factor, baron- 
 bailie, and man of resource, that he had a fit of the cholic which 
 lasted for five days, occasioned, he said, solely and utterly by be- 
 coming the unhappy instrument of conveying such a serious sum 
 of money out of his native country into the hands of the false 
 English. But patriotism, as it is the fairest, so it is often the most 
 suspicious mask of other feelings ; and many who knew Bailie 
 Macwheeble, concluded that his professions of regret were not 
 altogether disinterested, and that he would have grudged the 
 moneys paid to the loons at Westminster much less had they not 
 come from Bradwardine estate, a fund which he considered as more 
 particularly his own. But the Bailie protested he was absolutely 
 disinterested — 
 
 " Woe, woe, for Scotland, not a whit for me ! " 
 
 The laird was only rejoiced that his worthy friend. Sir Everard 
 Waverley of Waverley-Honour, was reimbursed of the expenditure 
 which he had outlaid on account of the house of Bradwardine. It 
 concerned, he said, the credit of his own family, and of the king- 
 dom of Scotland at large, that these disbursements should be 
 repaid forthwith, and, if delayed, it would be a matter of national 
 reproach. Sir Everard, accustomed to treat much larger sums 
 with indifference, received the remittance of ;^294, 13s. 6d., without 
 being aware that the payment was an international concern, and, 
 indeed, would probably have forgot the circumstance altogether, if 
 Bailie Macwheeble had thought of comforting his cholic by inter- 
 cepting the subsidy. A yearly intercourse took place, of a short 
 letter, and a hamper or a cask or two, between Waverley-Honour 
 and Tully-Veolan, the English exports consisting of mighty cheeses 
 and mightier ale, pheasants, and venison, and the Scottish returns 
 being vested in grouse, white hares, pickled salmon, and usque- 
 baugh. All which were meant, sent, and received, as pledges of 
 constant friendship and amity between two important houses. It 
 followed as a matter of course, that the heir-apparent of Waverley- 
 Honour could not with propriety visit Scotland without being 
 furnished with credentials to the Baron of Bradwardine. 
 
 When this matter was explained and settled, Mr. Pembroke 
 
WAVERLEY. 5- 
 
 expressed his wish to talce a private and particular leave of his 
 dear pupil. The good man's exhortations to Edward to preserve 
 an unblemished life and morals, to hold fast the principles of the 
 Christian religion, and to eschew the profane company of scoffers 
 and latitudinarians, too much abounding in the army, were not 
 tmmingled with his political prejudices. It had pleased Heaven, 
 he said, to place Scotland (doubtless for the sins of their ancestors 
 in 1642) in a more deplorable state of darkness than even this 
 unhappy kingdom of England. Here, at least, although the candle- 
 stick of the Church of England had been in some degree removed 
 from its place, it yet afforded a glimmering light ; there was a 
 hierarchy, though schismatical, and fallen from the principles 
 maintained by those great fathers of the church, Sancroft and his 
 brethren ; there was a liturgy, though wofuUy perverted in some of 
 the principal petitions. But in Scotland it was utter darkness ; 
 and, excepting a sorrowful, scattered, and persecuted remnant, the 
 pulpits were abandoned to Presbyterians, and he feared, to sectaries 
 of every description. It should be his duty to fortify his dear 
 pupil to resist such unhallowed and pernicious doctrines in church 
 and state, as must necessarily be forced at times upon his unwilling 
 ears. 
 
 Here he produced two immense folded packets, which appeared 
 each to contain a whole ream of closely written manuscript. They 
 had been the labour of the worthy man's whole life ; and never 
 were labour and zeal more absurdly wasted. He had at one time 
 gone to London, with the intention of giving them to the world, by 
 the medium of a bookseller in Little Britain, well known to deal in 
 such commodities, and to whom he was instnicted to address him- 
 self in a particular phrase, and with a certain sign, which, it seems, ' 
 passed at that time current among the initiated Jacobites. The 
 moment Mr. Pembroke had uttered the Shibboleth, with the appro- 
 priate gesture, the bibliopolist greeted him, notwithstanding every 
 disclamation, by the title :of Doctor, and conveying him into his ) 
 back shop, after inspecting every possible and impossible place of 
 concealment, he commenced : " Eh, doctor ! — Well— all under the 
 rose — snug — I keep no holes here even for a Hanoverian rat to 
 hide in. And, what — eh ! any good news from our friends over 
 the water? — and how does the worthy King of France? — Or per- 
 haps you are more lately from Rome ? it must be Rome will do it 
 at last — the church must light its candle at the old lamp.^Eh — 
 what, cautious ? I like you the better ; but no fear." 
 
 Here Mr. Pembroke with some difficulty stopt a torrent of inter- 
 rogations, eked out with signs, nods, and winks ; and, having at 
 length convinced the bookseller that he did him too much honour 
 
S6 vVA-VERLEY. 
 
 in supposing him an emissary of exiled royalty, he explained his 
 actual business. 
 
 The man of books with a much more composed air proceeded 
 to examine the manuscripts. The title of the first was " A Dissent 
 from Dissenters, or the Comprehension confuted ; showing the 
 Impossibility of any Composition between the Church and Puri- 
 tans, Presbyterians, or Sectaries of any Description ; illustrated 
 from the Scriptures, the Fathers of the Church, and the soundest 
 Controversial Divines." To this work the bookseller positively 
 demurred. " Well meant," he said, " and learned, doubtless ; but 
 the time had gone by. Printed on small-pica it would run to eight 
 hundred pages, and could never pay. Begged therefore to be 
 excused — Loved and honoured the true church from his soul, and, 
 had it been a sermon on the martyrdom, or any twelve-penny 
 touch — why I would venture something for the honour of the cloth 
 —But come, let's see the other. ' Right Hereditary righted ! ' — 
 Ah ! there's some sense in this. Hum — ^lium — ^hum — pages so 
 
 many, paper so much, letter-press Ah ! I'll tell you, though, 
 
 doctor, you must knock out some of the Latin and Greek ; heavy, 
 doctor, damn'd heavy — (beg your pardon) and if you throw in a 
 few grains more pepper — I am he that never peached my author — 
 I have published for Drake and Charlwood Lawton, and poor 
 Amhurst * — Ah, Caleb ! Caleb ! Well, it was a shame to let poor 
 Caleb starve, and so many fat rectors and squires among us. I 
 gave him a dinner once a-week ; but, Lord love you, what's once 
 a-week, when a man does not know where to go the other six days? 
 ■ — Well, but, I must show the manuscript to little Tom Alibi the 
 solicitor, who manages all my law affairs — must keep on the windy 
 side — the mob were very uncivil the last time I mounted in Old 
 Palace Yard — all Whigs and Roundheads every man of them, 
 Williamites and Hanover rats." 
 
 The next day Mr. Pembroke again called on the publisher, but 
 found Tom Alibi's advice had determined him against undertaking 
 the work. " Not but what I would go to — (what was I going to 
 say ?) to the Plantations for the church with pleasure — but, dear 
 lloctor, I have a wife and family ; but, to show my zeal, I'll recom- 
 mend the job to my neighbour Trimmel — he is a bachelor, and 
 leaving off business, so a voyage in a western barge would not 
 inconvenience him." But Mr. Trimmel was also obdurate, and 
 Mr. Pembroke, fortunately perchance for himself, was compelled to 
 return to Waverley-Honour with his treatise in vindication of the 
 real fundamental principles of church and state safely packed in 
 his saddle-bags. 
 
 As the public were thus likely to be deprived of the benefit 
 
WAVERLEY. 57 
 
 arising from his lucubrations by the selfish cowardice of the trade, 
 Mr. Pembroke resolved to make two copies of these tremendous 
 manuscripts for the use of his pupil. He felt that he had been 
 indolent as a tutor, and, besides, his conscience checked him for 
 complying with the request of Mr. Richard Waverley, that he 
 would impress no sentiments upon Edward's mind inconsistent 
 with the present settlement in church and state. — But now, thought 
 he, I may, without breach of my word, since he is no longer under 
 my tuition, afford the youth the means of judging for himself, and 
 have only to dread his reproaches for so long concealing the light 
 which the perusal will flash upon his mind. — While he thus 
 indulged the reveries of an author and a politician, his darling 
 proselyte, seeing nothing very inviting in the title of the tracts, 
 and appalled by the bulk and compact lines of the manuscript, 
 quietly consigned them to a corner of his travelling trunk. 
 
 Aunt Rachel's farewell was brief and affectionate. She only 
 cautioned her dear Edward, whom she probably deemed somewhat 
 susceptible, against the fascination of Scottish beauty. She allowed 
 that the northern part of the island contained some ancient families, 
 but they were all Whigs and Presbyterians except the Highlanders ; 
 and respecting them she must needs say, there could be no great 
 delicacy among the ladies, where the gentlemen's usual attire was, 
 as she had been assured, to say the least, very singular, and not at 
 all decorous. She concluded her farewell with a kind and moving 
 benediction, and gave the young officer, as a pledge of her regard, 
 a valuable diamond ring (often worn by the male sex at that time), 
 and a purse of broad gold pieces, which also were more common 
 Sixty Years since than they have been of late. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A HORSE-QUARTER IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 The next morning, amid varied feelings, the chief of which was 
 a predominant, anxious, and even solemn impression, that he was 
 now in a great measure abandoned to his own guidance and direc- 
 tion, Edward Waverley departed from the Hall amid the blessings 
 and tears of all the old domestics and the inhabitants of the village, 
 mingled with some sly petitions for sergeantcies and corporalships, 
 and so forth, on the part of those who professed that "they never 
 thoft to ha' seen Jacob, and Giles, and Jonathan, go off for soldiers, 
 save to attend his honour, as in duty bound." ' Edward, as in duty 
 bound, extricated himself from the supplicants with the pledge of 
 fewer promises than might have been expected from a young man 
 
:8 WAVERLEY. 
 
 so little accustomed to the world. After a short visit to London, 
 he proceeded on horseback, then the general mode of travelling, 
 to Edinburgh, and from thence to Dundee, a seaport on the eastern 
 coast of Angus-shire, where his regiment was then quartered. 
 
 He now entered upon a new world, where, for a time, all was 
 beautiful because all was new. Colonel Gardiner, the commanding 
 officer of the regiment, was himself a study for a romantic, and at 
 the same time an inquisitive, 3'outh. In person he was tall, hand- 
 some, and active, though somewhat advanced in life. In his early 
 years, he had been what is called, by manner of palliative, a veiy 
 gay young man, and strange stories were circulated about his sud- 
 den conversion from doubt, if not infidelity, to a serious and even 
 enthusiastic turn of mind. It was whispered that a supernatural 
 communication, of a nature obvious even to the exterior senses, 
 had produced this wonderful change ; and though some mentioned 
 the proselyte as an enthusiast, none hinted at his being a hypocrite. 
 This singular and mystical circumstance gave Colonel Gardiner a 
 peculiar and solemn interest in the eyes of the young soldier.* It 
 may be easily imagined that the officers of a regiment commanded 
 by so respectable a person, composed a society more sedate and 
 orderly than a military mess always exhibits ; and that Waverley 
 escaped some temptations to which he might otherwise have been 
 exposed.^ 
 
 Meanwhile his military education proceeded. Already a good 
 horseman, he was now initiated into the arts of the manege, which, 
 when carried to perfection, almost realize the fable of the Centaur, 
 the guidance of the horse appearing to proceed from the rider's 
 mere volition, rather than from the use of any external and 
 apparent signal of .motion. He received also instructions in his 
 field duty; but I must own, that when his first ardour was past, 
 his progress fell short in the latter particular of what he wished 
 and expected. The duty of an officer,, the most imposing of all 
 others to the inexperienced mind, because accompanied with so 
 much outward pomp and circumstance, is in its essence a very dry 
 and abstract task, depending chiefly upon arithmetical combi- 
 nations, requiring much attention and a cool and reasoning head 
 to bring them into action. Our hero was liable to fits of absence, 
 in which his blunders excited some mirth, and called down some 
 reproof This circumstance impressed him with a painful sense of 
 inferiority in those qualities which appeared most to deserve and 
 obtain regard in his new profession. He asked himself in vain, 
 why his eye could not judge of distance or space so well as those 
 of his companions ; why his head was not always successful in 
 disentangling the various partial movements necessary to execute 
 
WAVERLEY. jg 
 
 a particular evolution ; and why his memory, so alert upon most 
 occasions, did not correctly retain technical phrases, and minute 
 points of etiquette or field discipline. Waverley was naturally 
 modest, and therefore did not fall into the egregious mistake of 
 supposing such minuter rules of military duty beneath his notice, 
 or conceiting himself to be born a general, because he made an 
 indifferent subaltern. The truth was, that the vague and unsatis- 
 factory course of reading which he had pursued, working upon a 
 temper naturally retired and abstracted, had given him that waver- 
 ing and unsettled habit of mind, which is most averse to study and 
 riveted attention. Time, in the meanwhile, hung heavy on his 
 hands. The gentry of the neighbourhood were disaffected, and 
 showed little hospitality to the military guests ; and the. people of 
 the town, chiefly engaged in mercantile pursuits, were not such as 
 Waverley chose to associate with. The arrival of summer, and a 
 curiosity to know something more of Scotland than he could see 
 in a ride from his quarters, determined him to request leave of 
 absence for a few weeks. He resolved first to visit his uncle's 
 ancient friend and correspondent, with the purpose of extending or 
 shortening the time of his residence according to circumstances. 
 He travelled of course on horseback, and with a single attendant, 
 and passed his first night at a miserable inn, where the landlady 
 had neither shoes nor stockings, and the landlord, who called him- 
 self a gentleman, was disposed to be rude to his guest, because he 
 had not bespoke the pleasure of his society to supper.* The next 
 day, traversing an open and uninclosed country, Edward gra- 
 dually approached the Highlands of Perthshire, which at first had 
 appeared a blue outline in the horizon, but now swelled into huge 
 gigantic masses, which frowned defiance over the more level 
 country that lay beneath them. Near the bottom of this stupen- 
 dous barrier, but still in the Lowland countiy, dwelt Cosmo Comyne 
 Bradwardine of Bradwardine ; and, if grey-haired eld can be in 
 aught believed, there had dwelt his ancestors, with all their heritage, 
 since the days of the gracious King Duncan. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A SCOTTISH MANOR-HOUSE SIXTY YEARS SINCE. 
 
 It was about noon when Captain Waverley entered the strag- 
 gling village, or rather hamlet of TuUy-Veplan, close to which was 
 situated the mansion of the proprietor. The houses seemed 
 miserable in the extreme, especially to an eye accustomed to the 
 smiling neatness of English cottages. They stood, without any 
 
6o WAVERLEY. 
 
 respect for regularity, on each side of a straggling kind of unpaved 
 street, where children, almost in a primitive state of nakedness, 
 lay sprawling, as if to be crushed by the hoofs of the first passing 
 horse. Occasionally, indeed, when such a consummation seemed 
 inevitable, a watchful old grandam, with her close cap, distaff, and 
 spindle, rushed like a sibyl in frenzy out of one of these miserable 
 cells, dashed into the middle of the path, and snatching up her 
 own charge from , among the sun-burnt loiterers, saluted him with 
 a sound cuff, and transported him back to his dungeon, the little 
 white-headed varlet screaming all the while from the very top of 
 his lungs, a shrilly treble to the growling remonstrances of the 
 enraged matron. Another part in this concert was sustained by 
 the incessant yelping of a score of idle useless curs, which followed, 
 snarling, barking, howling, and snapping at the horses' heels ; a 
 nuisance at that time so common in Scotland, that a French 
 tourist, who, like other travellers, longed to find a good and rational 
 reason for everything he saw, has recorded, as one of the memo- 
 rabiUa of Caledonia, that the state maintained in each village a 
 relay of curs, called collies, whose duty it was to chase the chevanx 
 de paste (too starved and exhausted to move without such a stimulus) 
 from one hamlet to another, till their annoying convoy drove them to 
 the end of their stage. The evil and remedy (such as it is) still exist : 
 But this is remote from our present purpose, and is only thrown 
 out for consideration of the collectors under Mr. Dent's dog-bill. 
 
 As Waverley moved on, here and there an old man, bent as 
 much by toil as years, his eyes bleared with age and smoke, 
 tottered to the door of his hut, to gaze on the dress of the stranger 
 and the form and motions of the horses, and then assembled, with 
 his neighbours, in a little group at the smithy, to discuss the proba- 
 bilities of whence the stranger came, and where he might be going. 
 Three or four village girls, returning from the well or brook with 
 pitchers and pails upon their heads, formed more pleasing objects, 
 and, with their thin short-gowns and single petticoats, bare arms, 
 legs, and feet, uncovered heads and braided hair, somewhat 
 resembled Italian forms of landscape. Nor could a lover'of the 
 picturesque have challenged either the elegance of their costume, 
 or the symmetry of their shape ; although, to say the truth, a mere 
 Englishman, in search of the comfortable, a word peculiar to his 
 native tongue, might have wished the clothes less scanty, the feet 
 and legs somewhat protected from the weather, the head and com- 
 plexion shrouded from the sun, or perhaps might even have thought 
 the whole person and dress considerably improved, by a plentiful 
 application of spring water, with a qtianttcm sufficit of soap. Th« 
 whole scene was depressing ; for it argued, at the first glance, at 
 
WAVERLEY. 6x 
 
 least a stagnation of industry, and perhaps of intellect. Even 
 curiosity, the busiest passion of the idle, seemed of a hstless cast 
 in the village of TuUy-Veolan : the curs aforesaid alone showed 
 any part of its activity ; with the villagers it was passive. They 
 stood and gazed at the handsome young officer and his attendant, 
 but without any of those quick motions and eager looks, that indi- 
 cate the earnestness with which those who live in monotonous ease 
 at home look out for amusement abroad. Yet the physiognomy 
 of the people, when more closely examined, was far from exhibiting 
 the indifference of stupidity; their features were rough, but re- 
 markably intelligent ; grave, but the veiy reverse of stupid ; and 
 from among, the young women, an artist inight have chosen mort 
 than one model, whose features and form resembled those of 
 Minerva. The children also, whose skins were burnt black, and 
 whose hair was bleached white, by the influence of the sun, had a 
 look and manner of life and interest. It seemed, upon the whole, 
 as if poverty, and indolence, its too frequent companion, were com- 
 bining to depress the natural genius and acquired information of a 
 hardy, intelligent, and reflecting peasantry. 
 
 Some such thoughts crossed Waverley's mind as he paced his 
 horse slowly through the rugged and flinty street of Tully-Veolan, 
 interrupted only in his meditations by the occasional caprioles 
 which his charger exhibited at the reiterated assaults of those 
 canine Cossacks, the collies before mentioned. The village was 
 more than half a mile long, the cottages being irregularly divided 
 from each other by gardens, or yards, as the inhabitants called 
 them, of different sizes, where (for it is Sixty Years since) the now 
 universal potato was unknown, but which were stored with 
 o-igantic plants of kale or colewort, encircled with groves of nettles, 
 and exliibited here and there a huge hemlock, or the national 
 thistle, overshadowing a quarter of the petty inclosure. The 
 broken ground on which the village was built had never been 
 levelled ; so that these inclosures presented declivities of every 
 deoree, here rising like terraces, there sinking like tan-pits. The 
 dry-stone walls which fenced, or seemed to fence (for they were 
 sorely breached), these hanging gardens of Tully-Veolan, were 
 intersected by a narrow lane leading to the common field, where 
 the joint labour of the villagers cultivated alternate ridges and 
 patches of rye, oats, barley, and pease, each of such minute extent, 
 that at a little distance the unprofitable variety of the surface 
 resembled a tailor's book of patterns. In a few favoured instances, 
 there appeared behind the cottages a miserable wigwam, compiled 
 of earth, loose stones, and turf, where the wealthy might perhaps 
 sheltei- a starved cow or sorely gaiied horse. But almost every 
 
62 WAVERLEY. 
 
 hut was fenced in front by a huge black stack of turf >on one side 
 of the door, while on the other the family dunghill ascended in 
 noble emulation. 
 
 About a bowshot from the end of the village appeared the inclo- 
 sures, proudly denominated the Parks of Tully-Veolan, being 
 certain square fields, surrounded and divided by stone walls five 
 feet in height. In the centre of the exterior barrier was the upper 
 gate of the avenue, opening under an archway, battlemented on 
 the top, and adorned with two large weather-beaten mutilated 
 masses of upright stone, which, if the tradition of the hamlet could 
 be trusted, had once represented, at least had been once designed 
 to represent, two rampant Bears, the, supporters of the family of 
 Bradwardine. This avenue was straight, and of moderate length, 
 running between a double row of very ancient horse-chestnuts, 
 planted alternately with sycamores, which rose to such huge height, 
 and flourished so luxuriantly, that their boughs completely over- 
 arched the broad road beneath. Beyond these venerable ranks, 
 and running parallel to them, were two high walls, of apparently 
 the like antiquity, overgrown, with ivy, honeysuckle, and other 
 climbing plants. The avenue seemed very little trodden, and 
 chiefly by foot-passengers ; so that being very broad, and enjoying 
 a constant shade, it was clothed with grass of a deep and rich ver- 
 dure, excepting where a foot-path, worn by occasional passengers, 
 tracked with a natural sweep the way from the upper to the lower 
 gate. This nether portal, like the former, opened in front of a wall 
 ornamented with some rude sculpture, with battlements on the top, 
 over which were seen, half hidden by the trees of the avenue, the 
 high steep roofs and narrow gables of the mansion, with lines 
 indented into steps, and corners decorated with small turrets. 
 One of the folding leaves of the lower gate was open, and as the 
 sun shone full into the court behind, a long line of brilliancy was 
 flung upon the aperture up the dark and gloomy avenue. It was 
 one of those effects which a painter loves to represent, and mingled 
 well with the struggling light which found its way between the 
 boughs of the shady arch that vaulted the broad green alley. 
 
 The solitude and repose of the whole seemed almost romantic ; 
 and Waverley, who had given his horse to his servant on entering 
 the first gate, walked slowly down the avenue, enjoying the grateful 
 and cooling shade, and so much pleased with the placid ideas of 
 rest and seclusion excited by this confined and quiet scene, that he 
 forgot the misery and dirt of the hamlet he had left behind him. 
 The opening into the paved court-yard corresponded with the rest 
 of the scene. The house, which seemed to consist of two or three 
 high, narrow, and steep-roofed buildings, projecting from each other 
 
WAVERLEY. 63 
 
 at right angles, formed one side of the inclosure. It had been 
 built at a period when castles were no longer necessary, and when 
 the Scottish architects had not yet acquired the art of designing a 
 domestic residence. The windows were numberless, but very 
 small ; the roof had some nondescript kind of projections, called 
 bartizans, and displayed at each frequent angle a small turret, 
 rather resembling a pepper-box than a Gothic watch-tower. 
 Neither did the front indicate absolute security from danger. 
 There were loop-holes for musketry, and iron stancheons on the 
 loAver windows, probably to repel any roving band of gipsies, or 
 resist a predatory visit from the Caterans of the neighbouring 
 Highlands. Stables and other offices occupied another side of the 
 square. The former were low vaults, with narrow slits instead of 
 windows, resembling, as Edward's groom observed, "rather a 
 prison for murderers and larceners, and such like as are tried at 
 'sizes, than' a place for any Christian cattle." Above these dun- 
 geon-looking stables were granaries, called girnels, and other 
 offices, to which there was access by outside stairs of heavy 
 masonry. Two battlemented walls, one of which faced the 
 avenue, and the other divided the court from the garden, com- 
 pleted the inclosure. 
 
 Nor was the court without its ornaments. In one corner was a 
 tun-bellied pigeon-house, of great size and rotundity, resembling in 
 figure and proportion the curious edifice called Arthur's Oven, 
 which would have turned the brains of all the antiquaries in 
 England, had not the worthy proprietor pulled it down for the sake 
 of mending a neighbouring dam-dyke. This dovecot, or colum- 
 barium, as the owner called it, was no small resource to a Scottish 
 laird of that period, whose scanty rents were eked out by the 
 contributions levied upon the farms by these light foragers, and 
 the conscriptions exacted from the latter for the benefit of the 
 table. 
 
 Another comer of the court displayed a fountain, where a huge 
 bear, carved in stone, predominated over a large stone basin, into 
 which he disgorged the water. This work of art was the wonder 
 of the country ten miles round. It must not be forgotten, that all 
 sorts of bears, small and large, demi or in full proportion, were 
 carved over the windows, upon the ends of the gables, terminated 
 the spouts, and supported the turrets, with the ancient family 
 motto, " ISjiuat \\t Bar," cut under each hyperborean form. The 
 court was spacious, well paved, and perfectly clean, there being 
 probably another entrance behind the stables for removing the 
 litter. Everything around appeared solitary, and would have been 
 silent, but for the continued plashing of the fountain ; and the 
 
64 WAVERLEY. 
 
 whole scene still maintained the monastic illusion which the fancy 
 of Waverley had conjured up.— And here we beg permission to 
 close a chapter of still life.* 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MORE OF THE MANOR-HOUSE AND ITS ENVIRONS. 
 After having satisfied his curiosity by gazing around him for 
 a few minutes, Waverley apphed himself to the massive knocker of 
 the hall-door, the architrave of which bore the date 1594. But no 
 answer was returned, though the peal resounded through a number 
 of apartments, and was echoed from the court-yard walls without 
 the house, startling the pigeons from the venerable rotunda which 
 they occupied, and alarming anew even the distant village curs, 
 which had retired to sleep upon their respective dunghills. Tired 
 of the din which he created, and the unprofitable responses which 
 it excited, Waverley began to think that he had reached the castle 
 of Orgoglio, as entered by the victorious Prince Arthur, 
 
 When 'gan he loudly through the house to call. 
 
 But no man cared to answer to his cry ; 
 There reign'd a solemn silence over all. 
 Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seen in bower or hall. 
 
 Filled almost with expectation of beholding some " old, old man, 
 with beard as white as snow," whom he might question concerning 
 this deserted mansion, our hero turned to a little oaken wicket- 
 door, well clenched with iron nails, which opened in the court-yard 
 wall at its angle with the house. It was only latched, notwith- 
 standing its fortified appearance, and, when opened, admitted him 
 into' the garden, which presented a pleasant scene.* The southern 
 side of the house, clothed with fruit-trees, and having many ever- 
 greens trained upon its walls, extended its irregular yet venerable 
 front, along a terrace, partly paved, partly gravelled, partly 
 bordered with flowers and choice shrubs. This- elevation de- 
 scended by three several flights of steps, placed in its centre and 
 at the extremities, into what might be called the garden proper, 
 and was fenced along the top by a stone parapet with a heavy 
 balustrade, ornamented from space to space with huge grotesque 
 figures of animals seated upon their haunches, among which the 
 favourite bear was repeatedly introduced. Placed in the middle 
 of the terrace, between a sashed-door opening from the house and 
 the central flight of steps, a huge animal of the same species sup- 
 ported on his head and fore-paws a sun-dial of large circumference, 
 
^1 
 
WAVERLEY. 65 
 
 inscribed with more diagrams than Edward's mathematics enabled 
 him to decipher. 
 
 The garden, which seemed to be kept with great accuracy, 
 abounded in fruit-trees, and exhibited a profusion of flowers and 
 evergreens, cut into grotesque forms. It was laid out in terraces, 
 which descended rank by rank from the western wall t& a large 
 brook, which had a tranquil and smooth appearance, where it 
 served as a boundary to the garden ; but, near the extremity, leapt 
 in tumult over a strong dam, or wear-head, the cause of its 
 temporary tranquillity, and there forming a cascade, was overlooked 
 by an octangular summer-house, with a gilded bear on the top by 
 way of vane. After this feat, the brook, assuming its natural 
 rapid and fierce character, escaped from the eye down a deep and 
 wooded dell, from the copse of which arose a massive, but ruinous 
 tower, the former habitation of the Barons of Bradwardine. The 
 margin of the brook, opposite to the garden, displayed a narrow mea- 
 dow, or haugh, as it was called, which formed a small washing-green ; 
 the bank, which retired behind it, was covered by ancient trees. 
 
 The scene, though pleasing, was not quite equal to the gardens 
 of Alcina ; yet wanted not the "due donzelette garrule" of that 
 enchanted paradise, for upon the green aforesaid two bare-legged 
 damsels, each standing in a spacious tub, performed with their feet 
 the office of a patent washing-machine. These did not, however, 
 like the maidens of Armida, remain to greet with their harmony 
 the approaching guest, but, alarmed at the appearance of a hand- 
 some .stranger on the opposite side, dropped their garments (I 
 should say garment, to be quite correct) over their limbs, which 
 their occupation exposed somewhat too freely, and, with a shrill 
 exclamation of " Eh, sirs ! " uttered with an accent between 
 modesty and coquetry, sprung off like deer in different directions. 
 
 Waverley began to despair of gaining entrance into this solitary 
 and seemingly enchanted mansion, when a man advanced up one 
 of the garden alleys, where he still retained his station. Trusting 
 this might be a gardener, or some domestic belonging to the house, 
 Edward descended the steps in order to meet him ; but as the 
 ■figure approached, and long before he could descry his features, he 
 was struck with the oddity of its appearance and gestures. — Some- 
 times this mister wight held his hands clasped over his head, like 
 an Indian Jogue in the attitude of penance ; sometimes he swung 
 them perpendicularly, like a pendulum, on each side ; and anon he 
 slapped them swiftly and repeatedly across his breast, like the 
 substitute used by a hackney-coachman for his usual flogging 
 exercise, when his cattle are idle upon the stand in a clear frosty 
 day. His gait was as singular as his gestures, for at times he 
 
66 WAVERLEY. 
 
 hopp'd with great perseverance on the right foot, then exchanged 
 that supporter to advance in the same manner on the left, and then 
 putting his feet close together, he hopp'd upon both at once. His 
 attire, also, was antiquated and extravagant. It consisted in a sort 
 of grey jerkin, with scarlet cuffs and slash'd sleeves, showing a 
 scarlet lining ; the other parts of the dress corresponded in colour, 
 not forgetting a pair of scarlet stockings, and a scarlet bonnet, 
 proudly surmounted with a turkey's feather. Edward, whom he 
 did not seem to observe, now perceived confirmation in his features 
 of what the mein and gestures had already announced. It was 
 apparently neither idiocy nor insanity v/hich gave that wild, un- 
 settled, irregular expression to a face which naturally was rather 
 handsome, but something that resembled a compound of both, 
 where the simplicity of the fool was mixed with the extravagance 
 of a crazed imagination. He sung with great earnestness, and not 
 without some taste, a, fragment of an old Scottish ditty : — 
 
 * False love, and hast thou play'd me this 
 In summer among the flowers.' 
 I will repay thee back again 
 1 In winter among the showers. 
 
 Unless again, again, my love, 
 
 Unless you turn again ; 
 As you with other maidens rove, 
 I'U smile on other men. 
 
 Here lifting up his eyes, which, had hitherto been fixed in 
 observing how his feet kept time to the tune, he beheld Waverley, 
 and instantly dofPd his cap, with many grotesque signals of sur- 
 prise, respect, and salutation. Edward, though with little hope of 
 receiving an answer to any constant question, requested to know 
 whether Mr. Bradwardine were at home, or where he could find 
 any of the domestics. The questioned party replied, — and, like 
 the witch of Thalaba, " still his speech was song," — 
 
 The Knight's to the mountain 
 
 His bugle to wind ; 
 The Lady's to greenwood 
 
 Her garland to bind. 
 The bower of Burd Ellen 
 
 Has moss on the floor. 
 That the step of Lord William 
 
 Be silent and sure. 
 
 This conveyed no information, and Edward, repeating his 
 queries, received a rapid answer, in which, from the haste and 
 peculiarity of the dialect, the word " butler " was alone intelligible. 
 Waverley then requested to see the butler ; upon which the fellow. 
 
WAVERLEY. 67 
 
 with a knowing look and nod of intelligence, made a signal to 
 Edward to follow, and began to dance and caper down the alley 
 lip which he had made his approaches. — A strange guide this, 
 thought Edward, and not much unlike one of Shakspeare's roynish 
 clowns. I am not over prudent to trust to his pilotage ; but wiser 
 men have been led by fools. — By this time he reached the bottom 
 of the alley, where, turning short on a little parterre of flowers, 
 shrouded from the east and north by a close yew edge, he found an 
 old man at work without .his coat, whose appearance hovered 
 between that of an upper servant and gardener ; his i-ed nose and 
 ruffled shirt belonging to the former profession ; his hale and sun- 
 burnt visage, with his green apron, appearing to indicate 
 
 Old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden. 
 
 The major domo — for such he was, and indisputably the second 
 officer of state in the barony (nay, as chief minister of the interior, 
 superior even to Bailie Macwheeble, in his own department of the 
 kitchen and cellar), — the major domo laid down his spade, slipped 
 on his coat in haste, and with a wrathful look at Edward's guide, 
 probably excited by his having introduced a stranger while he was 
 engaged in this laborious, and, as he might suppose it, degrading 
 office, requested to know the gentleman's commands. Being in- 
 formed that he wished to pay his respects to his master, that his 
 name was Waverley, and so forth, the old man's countenance as- 
 sumed a great deal of respectful importance. " He could take it 
 upon his conscience to say, his honour would have exceeding 
 pleasure in seeing him. Would not Mr. Waverley choose some 
 refreshment after his journey ? His honour was with the folk who 
 were getting doon the dark hag ; the twa gardener lads (an em- 
 phasis on the word twa) had been ordered to attend him ; and he 
 had been just amusing himself in the mean time with dressing 
 Miss Rose's flower-bed, that he might be near to receive his 
 honour's orders, if need were : he was very fond of a garden, but 
 had little time for such divertisements." 
 
 '■ He canna get it wrought in abune twa days in the week at no 
 rate whatever," said Edward's fantastic conductor. 
 
 A grim look from the butler chastised his interference, and he 
 commanded him, by the name of Davie Gellatley, in a tone which 
 admitted no discussion, to look for his honour at the dark hag, and 
 tell him there was a gentleman from the south had arrived at the Ha'. 
 
 " Can this poor fellow deliver a letter ? " asked Edward. 
 
 " With all fidelity, sir, to any one whom he respects. I would 
 hardly trust him with a long message by word of mouth— though 
 he is more knave than fool." 
 
 E 2 
 
68 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Waverley delivered his credentials to M^. Gellatley, who seemed 
 to confirm the butler's last observation, by tvi^isting his features at 
 him, when he was looking another way, into the resemblance of 
 the grotesque face on the bole of a German tobacco pipe ; after 
 which, with an odd congd to Waverley, he danced off to discharge 
 his errand. 
 
 " He is an innocent, sir," said the butler ; " there is one such in 
 almost every town in the country, but ours is brought far ben. He 
 used to work a day's turn weel eneugh ; but he help'd Miss Rose 
 when she was flemit with the Laird of Killancureit's new English 
 bull, and since that time we ca' him Davie Do-little ; indeed we 
 might ca' him Davie Do-naething, for since he got that gay 
 clothing, to please his honour and my young mistress (great folks 
 will have their fancies), he has done naething but dance up and 
 down about the toun, without doing a single turn, unless trimming 
 the laird's fishing-wand or busking his flies, or may be catching a 
 dish of trouts at an orra-time. But here comes Miss Rose, who, 
 1 take burden upon me for her, will" be especial. glad to see one 
 of the house of Waverley at her father's mansion at TuUy-Veolan. 
 
 But Rose Bradwardine deserves better of her unworthy historian, 
 than to be introduced at the end of a chapter. 
 
 In the meanwhile it may be noticed, that Waverley learned two 
 things from this colloquy ; that in Scotland a single house was 
 called a town, and a natural fool an innocent* 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ROSE BRADWARDINE AND HER FATHER. 
 
 Miss Bradwardine was but seventeen ; yet, at the last races 
 
 of the county town of , upon her health being proposed 
 
 among a round of beauties, the Laird of Bumperquaigh, permanent 
 toastmaster and croupier of the Bautherwhillery Club, not only 
 said More to the pledge in a pint bumper of Bourdeaux, but, ere 
 pouring forth the libation, denominated the divinity to whom it 
 was dedicated, " the Rose of TuUy-Veolan ; " upon which festive 
 occasion, three cheers were given by all the sitting members 'of 
 that respectable society, .whose throats the wine had left capable of 
 such exertion. Nay, I am well assured, that the sleeping partners 
 of the company snorted applause, and that although strong bumpers 
 and weak brains had consigned two or three to the floor, yet even 
 tiese, fallen as they were from their high estate, and weltering — 
 
WAVERLEY. 6g 
 
 I will carry the parody no farther— uttered divers inarticulate 
 sounds, intimating their assent to the motion. 
 
 Such unanimous applause could not be extorted but by acknow- 
 ledged merit; and Rose Bradwardine not only deserved it, but 
 also the approbation of much more rational persons than the 
 Bautherwhillery Club could have mustered, even before discussion 
 of (the first inagnum. She was indeed a very pretty girl of the 
 Scotch cast of beauty, that is, with a profusion of hair of paley 
 gold, and a skin like the snow of her own mountains in whiteness. 
 Yet she had not a pallid or pensive caste of countenance; her 
 features, as well as her temper, had a lively expression ; her com- 
 plexion, though not florid, was so pure as to seem transparent, and 
 the slightest emotion sent her whole blood at once to her face 
 and neck. Her form, though under the common size, was remark- 
 ably elegant, and her motions light, easy, and unembarrassed. 
 She came from another part of the garden to receive Captain 
 Waverley, with a manner that hovered between bashfulness and 
 courtesy. 
 
 The first greetings past, Edward learned from her that the dark 
 hag, which had somewhat puzzled him in the butlei-'s account' of 
 his master's avocations, had nothing to do either with a black cat 
 or a broomstick, but was simply a portion of oak copse which was 
 to be felled that day. She offered, with diffident civility, to show 
 the stranger the way to the spot, which, it seems, was not far 
 distant ; but they were prevented by the appearance of the Baron 
 of Bradwardine in person, who, summoned by David Gellatley, 
 now appeared, " on hospitable thoughts intent," clearing the ground 
 at a prodigious rate with swift and long strides, which reminded 
 Waverley of the seven-league boots of the nursery fable. He was 
 a tall, thin, athletic figure, old indeed, and grey-haired, but with 
 every muscle rendered as tough as whip-cord by constant exercise. 
 He was dressed carelessly, and more like a Frenchman than an 
 Englishman of the period, while, from his hard features and per- 
 pendicular rigidity of stature, he bore some i-esemblance to a Swiss 
 officer of the guards who had resided some time at Paris, and 
 caught the costume, but not the ease or manner of its inhabitants. 
 The truth was, that his language and habits were as heterogeneous 
 as his external appearance. 
 
 Owing to his natural disposition to study, or perhaps to a very 
 general .Scottish fashion of giving young men of rank a legal 
 education, he had been bred with a view to the Bar. But the 
 politics of his family precluding the hope of his rising in that pro- 
 fession, Mr. Bradwardine travelled with high reputation for several 
 years, and made some campaigns in foreign service. After his 
 
TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 d^melde with the law of high treason in 1715, he had lived in 
 retirement, conversing almost entirely with those of his own prin- 
 ciples in the vicinage. The pedantry of the lawyer, superinduced 
 upon the military pride of the soldier, might remind a modern of 
 the days of the zealous volunteer service, when the bar-gown of 
 our pleaders was often flung over a blazing uniform. To this must 
 be added the prejudices of ancient birth and Jacobite politics, 
 greatly strengthened by habits of solitary and secluded authority, 
 which, though exercised only within the bounds of his half-culti- 
 vated estate, was there indisputable and undisputed. For, as he 
 used to observe, " the lands of Bradwardine, TuUy-Veolan, and 
 others, had been erected into a free barony by a charter from 
 David the First, cum liberali potest, habendi curias et justicias, cuin. 
 fossa etfurca (lie pit and gallows) et saka et soka, et thol et theam, 
 et infang-thiej et outfang-thief, sive hand-habend. sive bak-barand." 
 The peculiar meaning of all these cabalistical words few or none 
 could explain; but they implied, upon the whole, that the Baron 
 of Bradwardine might, in case of delinquency, imprison, try, and 
 execute his vassals at his pleasure. Like James the First, how- 
 ever, the present possessor of this authority was more pleased in 
 talking about perogative than in exercising it ; and, excepting that 
 he imprisoned two poachers in the dungeon of the old tower of 
 TuUy-Veolan, where they were sorely frightened by ghosts, and 
 almost eaten by rats, and that he set an old woman in the jougs 
 (or Scottish pillory) for saying " there were mair fules in the laird's 
 ha' house than Davie Gellatley," I do not learn that he was ac- 
 cused of abusing his high powers. Still, however, the conscious 
 pride of possessing them gave additional importance to his language 
 and deportment. 
 
 At his first address to Waverley, it would seem that the hearty 
 pleasure he felt to behold the nephew of his friend had somewhat 
 discomposed the stiff and upright dignity of the Baron of Brad- 
 wardine's demeanour, for the tears stood in the old gentleman's 
 eyes, when, having first shaken Edward heartily by the hand in 
 the English fashion, he embraced him ct-la-mode Franqoise, and 
 kissed him on both sides of his face ; while the hardness of his 
 gripe, and the quantity of Scotch snuff which his accolade com- 
 municated, called corresponding drops of moisture to the eyes of 
 his guest. 
 
 " Upon the honour of a gentleman," he said, " but it makes me 
 young again to see you here, Mr. Waverley ! A worthy scion of 
 the old stock of Waverley- Honour — spes altera, as Maro hath it — 
 and you have the look of the old line, Captain Waverley ; not so 
 portly yet as my old friend Sir Everard — mais cela viendra avec 
 
WAVERLEY. 7I 
 
 le terns, as my Dutch acquaintance, Baron Kikkitbroeck, said of 
 the sa^esse of Madame son epouse. — And so ye have mounted the 
 cockade ? Right, right ; though I could have wished the colour 
 different, and so I vi-ould ha' deemed might Sir Everard. But no 
 more of that ; I am old, and times are changed. — And how does 
 the worthy knight baronet, and the fair Mrs. Rachel.' — Ah, 'ye 
 laugh, young man ! In troth she was the fair Mrs. Rachel in the 
 year of grace seventeen hundred and sixteen ; but time passes — 
 et singula pradantur anni — that is most certain. But once again 
 ye are most heartily welcome to my poor house of TuUy-Veolan ! — 
 Hie to the house, Rose, and see that Alexander Saunderson looks 
 out the old Chateau Margoux, which I sent from Bourdeaux to 
 Dundee in the year 17 13." 
 
 Rose tripped off demurely enough till she turned the first corner, 
 and then ran with the speed of a fairy, that she might gain leisure, 
 after discharging her father's commission, to put her own dress in 
 order, and produce all her little finery, an occupation for which the 
 approaching dinner-hour left but limited time. 
 
 " We cannot rival the luxuries of your English table, Captain 
 Waverley, or give you the epulce lautiores of Waverley-Honour — 
 I say epulcE rather than prandium, because the latter phrase is 
 popular ; Epula ad senatum, prandiuin vera ad populum attinet, 
 says Suetonius Tranquillus. But I trust ye will applaud my Bour- 
 deaux; c'est des deux oreilles, as Captain Vinsauf used to say — 
 Vinum primce nota, the Principal of St. Andrews denominated it. 
 And, once more. Captain Waverley, right glad am I that ye arc 
 here to drink the best my cellar can make forthcoming." 
 
 This speech, with the necessary interjectional answers, continued 
 from the lower alley where they met, up to the door of the house, 
 where four or five servants in old-fashioned liveries, headed by 
 Alexander Saunderson, the butler, who now bore no token of the 
 sable stains of the garden, received them in grand costume. 
 
 In an old hall hung round with pikes and with bows. 
 With old bucklers and corslets that had borne many shrewd 
 blows. 
 
 With much ceremony, and still more real kindness, the Baron, 
 without stopping in any intermediate apartment, conducted his 
 guest through several into the great dining parlour, wainscotted 
 with black oak, and hung round with pictures of his ancestry, 
 where a table was set forth in form for six persons, and an old- 
 fashioned beaufet displayed all the ancient and massive plate of 
 the Bradwardine family. A bell was now heard at the head of the 
 avenue ; for an old man, who acted as porter upon gala days, had 
 
72 WAVERLEY. 
 
 caught the alarm given by Waverley's arrival, and repairing to his 
 post, announced the arrival of other guests. 
 
 These, as the Baron assured his young friend, were very esti- 
 mable persons. " There was the young Laird of Balmawhapple, a 
 Falconer by surname, of the house of Glenfarquhar, given right 
 much to field-sports— ^az^^^/ eqids et caniius— hut a very discreet 
 young gentleman. Then there was the Laird of Killancureit, who 
 had devoted his leisure ukUII tillage and agriculture, and boasted 
 himself to be possessed of a bull of matchless merit, brought from 
 the county of Devon (the Damnonia of the Romans, if we can 
 trust Robert of Cirencester). He is, as ye may well suppose from 
 such a tendency, but of yeoman extraction — servabit odor em testa 
 diu — and I believe, between ourselves, his grandsire was from the 
 wrong side of the Border — one BuUsegg, who came hither as a 
 steward, or bailiff, or ground officer, or something in that depart- 
 ment, to the last Girnigo of Killancureit, who died of an atrophy. 
 After his master's death, sir, — ye would hardly believe such a 
 scandal, — but this Bullsegg, being portly and comely of aspect, 
 intermarried with the lady dowager, who was young and amorous, 
 and possessed himself of the estate, which devolved on this un- 
 happy woman by a settlement of her umwhile husband, in direct 
 contravention of an unrecorded taillie, and to the prejudice of the 
 disponer's own flesh and blood, in the person of his natural heir 
 and seventh cousin, Girnigo of Tipperhewit, whose family was so 
 reduced by the ensuing lawsuit, that his representative is now 
 serving as a private gentleman-sentinel in the Highland Black 
 Watch. But this gentleman, Mr. Bullsegg of Killancureit that now 
 is, has good blood in his veins by the mother and grandmother, 
 who were both of the family of Pickletillim, and he is well liked 
 and looked upon, and knows his own place. And God forbid. 
 Captain Waverley, that we of irreproachable lineage should exult 
 over him, when it may be, that in the eighth, ninth, or tenth 
 generation, his progeny may rank, in a manner, with the old gentry 
 of the country. Rank and ancestry, sir, should be the last words 
 in the mouths of us of unblemished race — vix ea nostra voce, as 
 Naso, saith. — There is, besides, a clergyman of the true (though 
 suffering) Episcopal church of Scotland. He was a confessor in 
 her cause after the year 17 15, when a Whiggish mob destroyed his 
 meeting-house, tore his surplice, and plundered his dweUing-house 
 of four silver spoons, intromitting also with his mart and his meal- 
 ark, and with two barrels, one of single, and one of double ale, 
 besides three bottles of brandy.* My Baron-Bailie and doer, Mr. 
 Duncan Macwheeble, is the fourth on our list. There is a ques- 
 tion, owing to the incertitude of ancient orthography, whether he 
 
WAVERLEY. 73 
 
 belongs to the clan of Wheedle or of Quibble, but both have pro- 
 duced persons eminent in the law." — 
 
 As such he described them by person and name. 
 They enter'd, and dinner was served as they came. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE BANQUET. 
 
 The entertainment was ample, and handsome, according to the 
 Scotch ideas of the period, and the guests did great honour to it. 
 The Baron ate like a famished soldier, the Laird of Balmawhapple 
 like a sportsman, Bullsegg of Killancureit like a farmer, Waverley 
 himself like a traveller, and Bailie Macwheeble like all four to- 
 gether; though, either out of more respect, or in order to preserve 
 that proper declination of person which showed a sense that he 
 was in the presence of his patron, he sat upon the edge of his 
 chair, placed at three feet distance from the table, and achieved a 
 communication with his plate by projecting his person towards it 
 in a line, which obliqued from the bottom of his spine, so that the 
 person who sat opposite to him could only see the foretop of his 
 riding periwig. 
 
 This stooping position might have been inconvenient to another 
 person ; but long habit made it, whether seated or walking, per- 
 fectly easy to the worthy Bailie. In the latter posture, it occa- 
 sioned, no doubt, an unseemly projection of the person towards 
 those who happened to walk behind ; but those being at aU times 
 his inferiors (for Mr. Macwheeble was very scrupulous in giving 
 place to all others), he cared very little what inference of con- 
 tempt or slight regard they might derive from the circumstance. 
 Hence, when he waddled across the court to and from his old 
 grey pony, he somewhat resembled a turnspit walking upon its 
 hind legs. 
 
 The nonjuring clergyman was a pensive- and interesting old man, 
 with much the air of a sufferer for conscience sake. He was one 
 of those. 
 
 Who, undeprived, their benefice forsook. 
 
 For this whim, when the Baron was out of hearing, the Bailie 
 used sometimes gently to rally Mr. Rubrick, upbraiding him with 
 the nicety of his scruples. Indeed it must be owned, that he him- 
 self, though at heart a keen partisan of the exiled family, had kept 
 pretty fair with all the different turns of state in his time ; so that 
 Davie Gellatley once described him as a particularly good man, 
 
74 WAVERLEY. 
 
 who had a very quiet and peaceful conscience, that never did him 
 any harm. 
 
 When the dinner was removed, the Baron announced the health 
 of the King, politely leaving to the consciences of his guests to 
 drink to the sovereign de facto or dejvre, as their politics inclined. 
 The conversation now became general ; and, shortly afterwards, 
 IVIiss Bradwardine, who had done the honours with natural grace 
 and siniplicity, retired, and was soon followed by the clergyman. 
 Among the rest of the party, the wine, which fully justified the en- 
 comiuins of the landlord, flowed freely round, although Waverley, 
 with some difficulty, obtained the privilege of sometimes neglecting 
 the glass. At length, as the evening gi-ew more late, the Baron 
 made a private signal to Mr. Saunders Saunderson, or, as he face- 
 tiously denominated him, Alexander ab Alexandra, who left the 
 room with a nod, and soon after returned, his grave countenance 
 mantling with a solemn and mysterious smile, and placed before 
 his master a small oaken casket, mounted with brass ornaments of 
 curious form. The Baron, drawing out a private key, unlocked 
 the casket, raised the lid, and produced a golden goblet of a sin- 
 gular and antique appearance, moulded into the shape of a rampant 
 bear, which the owner regarded with a look of mingled reverence, 
 pride, and delight, that irresistibly reminded Waverley of Ben 
 Jonson's' Tom Otter, with his Bull, Horse, and Dog, as that wag 
 wittily denominated his chief carousing cups. But Mr. Bradwai-- 
 dine, turning towards him with complacency, requested him to 
 observe this curious relic of the olden time. 
 
 " It represents," he said, " the chosen crest of our family, a bear, 
 as ye observe, and rampant; because a good herald will depict 
 every animal in its noblest posture ; as a horse salient, a grey- 
 hound currant, and, as may be inferred, a ravenous animal in actu 
 ferociori, or in a voracious, lacerating, and devouring posture. 
 Now, sir, we hold this most honourable achievement by the 
 wappen-brief, or concession of arms, of Frederick Red-beard, 
 Emperor of Germany, to my predecessor, Godmund Bradwardine, 
 it being the crest of a gigantic Dane, whom he slew in the lists in 
 the Holy Land, on a quarrel touching the chastity of the emperor's 
 spouse or daughter, tradition saith not precisely which, and thus, 
 as Virgilius hath it — 
 
 Mutemus clypeos, Danaumque insignia nobis 
 Aptemus. 
 
 Then for the cup, Captain Waverley, it was wrought by the com- 
 mand of St. Duthac, Abbot of Aberbrothock, for behoof of anothei' 
 baron of the house of Bradwardine, who had valiantly defended 
 
WAVERLEY. 75 
 
 the patrimony of that monastery against certain encroaching nobles. 
 It is properly termed the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine (though old 
 Dr. Doubleit used jocosely to call it Ursa Major), and was sup- 
 posed, in old and Catholic times, to be invested with certain pro- 
 perties of a mystical and supernatural quality. And though I gite 
 not in to such anilia, it is certain it has always been esteemed a 
 solemn standard cup and heir-loom of our house ; nor is it ever 
 used but upon seasons of high festival, and such I hold to be the 
 arrival of the heir of Sir Everard under my roof ; and 1 devote this 
 draught to the health and prosperity of the ancient and highly-to- 
 be-honoured house of Waverley." 
 
 During this long harangue, he carefully decanted a cobwebbed 
 bottle of claret into the goblet, which held nearly an English pint ; 
 and, at the conclusion, delivering the bottle to the butler, to be held 
 carefully in the same angle with the horizon, he devoutly quaffed off 
 the contents of the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine. 
 
 Edward, with hoiTor and alarm, beheld the animal making his 
 rounds, and thought with great anxiety upon the appropriate 
 motto, " Beware the Bear ;" but at the same time plainly foresaw, 
 that as none of the guests scrupled to do him this extraordinary 
 honour, a refusal on his part to pledge their courtesy would be 
 extremely iU received. Resolving, therefore, to submit to this last 
 piece of tyranny, and then to quit the table, if possible, and con- 
 fiding in the strength of his constitution, he did justice to the 
 company in the contents of the Blessed Bear, and felt less incon- 
 venience from the draught than he could possibly have expected. 
 The others, whose time had been more actively employed, began 
 to show symptoms of innovation, — " the good wine did its good 
 office." * The frost of etiquette, and pride of birth, began to give 
 way before the genial blessings of this benign constellation, and 
 the formal appellatives with which the three dignitaries had hitherto 
 addressed each other, were now familiarly abbreviated into TuUy, 
 Bally, and Killie. When a few rounds had passed, the two latter, 
 after whispering together, craved permission (a joyful hearing for 
 Edward) to ask the grace-cup. This, after some delay, was at 
 length produced, and Waverley concluded that the orgies of 
 Bacchus were terminated for the evening. He was never more 
 mistaken in his life. 
 
 As the guests had left their horses at the small inn, or changc- 
 hoi/ss, as it was called, of the village, the Baron could not, in 
 politeness, avoid walking with them up the avenue, and Waverley, 
 from the same motive, and to enjoy, after this feverish revel, the 
 cool summer evening, attended the party. But when they arrived 
 at Luckie Macleary's, the Lairds of Balmawhapple and Killan- 
 
76 WAVERLEY. 
 
 cureit declared their determination to acknowledge their sehse o\ 
 the hospitality of Tuily-Veolan, by partaking with their entertainer 
 and his guest Captain Waverley, what they technically called 
 if^aek an doruis, a stirrup-cup, to the honour of the Baron's roof- 
 tree* 
 
 It must be noticed, that the Bailie, knowing by experience that 
 the day's joviality, which had been hitherto sustained at the expense 
 of his patron might terminate partly at his own, had mounted his 
 spavined grey pony, and, between gaiety of heart, and alarm foi 
 being hooked into a reckoning, spurred him into a hobbling canter 
 (a trot was out of the question), and had already cleared the village. 
 The others entered the change-house, leading Edward in unresist- 
 ing submission ; for his landlord whispered him, that to demur to 
 such an overture would be construed into a high misdemeanour 
 against the leges conviviales, or regulations of genial compotation. 
 Widow Macleary seemed to have expected this visit, as well she 
 might, for it was the usual consummation of merry bouts, not only 
 at TuUy-Veolan, but at most other gentlemen's houses in Scotland, 
 Sixty Years since. The guests thereby at once acquitted them- 
 selves of their burden of gratitude for their entertainer's kindness, 
 encouraged the trade of his change-house, did honour to the place 
 which afforded harbour to their horses, and indemnified themselves 
 for the previous restraints imposed by private hospitality, by spend- 
 ing, what Falstaff calls the sweet of the night, in the genial license 
 of a tavern. 
 
 Accordingly, in full expectation of these distinguished guests, 
 Luckie Macleary had swept her house for the first time this fort- 
 night, tempered her turf-fire to such a heat as the season required 
 in her damp hovel even at Midsummer, set forth her deal table 
 newly washed, propped its lame foot with a fragment of turf, 
 arranged four or five stools of huge and clumsy form upon the sitea 
 which best suited the inequalities of her clay floor ; and having, 
 moreover, put on her clean toy, rokelay, and scarlet plaid, gravely 
 awaited the arrival of the company, in full hope of custom and 
 profit. When they were seated under the sooty rafters of Luckie 
 Macleary's only apartment, thickly tapestried with cobwebs, their 
 hostess, who had already taken her cue from the Laird of BaJma- 
 whapple, appeared with a huge pewter measuring-pot, containing 
 at least three English quarts, familiarly denominated a Tappit hen, 
 and which, in the language of the hostess, reamed {}.e. mantled) 
 with excellent claret just drawn from the cask. 
 
 It was soon plain that what crumbs of reason the Bear had not 
 devoured, were to , be picked up by the Hen ; but the confusion 
 which appeared to prevail favoured Edward's resolution to evade 
 
WAVERLEY. 77 
 
 the gaily circling glass. The others began to talk thick and at once, 
 each performing his own part in the conversation, without the least 
 respect to his neighbour. The Baron of Bradwardine sung French 
 chansons-h-boire, and spouted pieces of Latin ; Killancureit talked, in 
 a steady unalterable dull key, of top-dressing and bottom-dressing,* 
 and year-olds, and gimmers, and dinmonts, and stots, and runts, 
 and kyloes, and a proposed turnpike act ; while Balmawhapple, in 
 notes exalted above both, extolled his horse, his hawks, and a 
 greyhound called Whistler. In the middle of this din, the Baron 
 repeatedly implored silence ; and when at length the instinct of 
 polite discipline so far prevailed, that for a moment he obtained it, 
 he hastened to beseech their attention "unto a military ariette, 
 which was a particular favourite of the Marechal Due de Berwick ;" 
 then, imitating, as well as he could, the manner and tone of a French 
 musquetaire, he immediately commenced, — 
 
 Mon coeur volage, dit elle, 
 
 N'est pas pour vous, gargon ? 
 Est pour un homme de guerre, 
 
 Qui a barbe au menton. 
 
 Lon, Lon, Laridon. 
 
 Qui port chapeau \ plume, 
 
 Soulier a rouge talon. 
 Que joue de la flute, 
 
 Aussi de viplon. 
 
 Lon, Lon, Laridon. 
 
 Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with what he 
 called a d — d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the 
 piper of Cupar ; and, without wasting more time, struck up, — 
 
 It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed, 
 And o'er the bent of Killiebraid, 
 And mony a weary cast I made. 
 To cuittle the muirfowl's tail.* 
 
 The Baron, whose voice was drowned in the louder and more 
 obstreperous strains of Balmawhapple, now dropped the competi- 
 tion, but continued to hum, Lon, Lon, Laridon, and to regard the 
 successful candidate for the attention of the company with an eye 
 of disdain, while Balmawhapple proceeded, — 
 
 If up a bonny black-cock should spring, 
 To whistle him. down wi' a slug in his wing, 
 And strap him on to my lunzie string. 
 Right seldom would I fail. 
 
 After an ineffectual attempt to recover the second verse, he sung 
 he first over again ; and, in prosecution of his triumph, declared 
 
78 WAVERLEY. 
 
 there was "more sense in that than in all the derry-dongs of 
 France, and Fifeshire to the boot of it." The Baron only answered 
 with a long pinch of snuff, and a glance of infinite contempt. But 
 those noble allies, the Bear and the Hen, had emancipated the 
 young laird from the habitual reverence in which he held Brad- 
 wardine at other times. He pronounced the claret shilpii, and 
 demanded brandy with great vociferation. It was brought ; and 
 now the Demon of Politics envied even the harmony arising from 
 this Dutch concert, merely because there was not a wrathful note 
 in the strange compound of sounds which it produced. Inspired 
 by her, the Laird of Balmawhapple, now superior to the nods and 
 winks with which the Baron of Bradwardine, in delicacy to Edward, 
 had hitherto checked his entering upon political discussion, de- 
 manded a bumper, with the lungs of a Stentor, " to the little 
 gentleman in black velvet who did such service in 1702, and may 
 the white horse break his neck over a mound of his making !" 
 
 Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough to remem- 
 ber that King William's fall, which occasioned his death, was said 
 to be owing to his horse stumbling at a mole-hill ; yet felt inclined 
 to take umbrage at a toast, which seemed, from the glance of 
 Balmawhapple's eye, to have a peculiar and uncivil reference to 
 the Government which he served. But, ere he could interfere, the 
 Baron of Bradwardine had taken up the quarrel " Sir," he said, 
 "whatever my sentiments, tanquam privaius, may be in such 
 matters, I shall not tamely endure your saying anything that may 
 impinge upon the honourable feelings of a gentleman under my 
 roof. Sir, if you have no respect for the laws of urbanity, do ye 
 not respect the militaiy oath, the sacramentum militare, by which 
 every officer is bound to the standards under which he is enrolled ? 
 Look at Titus Livius, what he says of those Roman soldiers who 
 were so unhappy as exuere sacra7nenium, — to renounce their 
 legionary oath ; but you are ignorant, sir, alike of ancient history 
 and modern courtesy." 
 
 " Not so ignorant as you would pronounce me," roared Balma- 
 whapple. " I ken weel that you mean the Solemn League and 
 Covenant ; but if a' the Whigs in hell had taken the " 
 
 Here the Baron and Waverley both spoke at once, the former 
 calling out, " Be silent, sir ! ye not only show your ignorance, but 
 disgrace your native country before a stranger and an English- 
 man ;" and Waverley, at the same moment, entreating Mr. Brad- 
 wardine to permit him to reply to an affront which seemed levelled 
 at him personally. But the Baron was exalted by wine, wrath, and 
 scorn, above all sublunary considerations. 
 
 " I crave you to be hushed, Captain Waverley ; you are else- 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 79 
 
 where, peradventure, JKzyKrzj,— forisfamiliated, that is, and entitled, 
 it maybe, to think and resent for yourself; but in my domain, in 
 this poor Barony of Bradwardine, and under this roof, which is 
 qicasi mine, being held by tacit relocation by a tenant-at-will, I am 
 z« loco parentis to you, and bound to see you scathless.— And for 
 you, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple, 1 warn ye, let me see no more 
 aberrations from the paths of good manners." 
 
 " And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, of Bradwar- 
 dine and Tully-Veolan," retorted the sportsman, in huge disdain, 
 " that I'll make a moor-cock of the man that refuses my toast, 
 whether it be a crop-eared English Whig wi' a black ribband at his 
 lug, or ane wha deserts his ain friends to claw favour wi' the rats 
 of Hanover." 
 
 In an instant both rapiers were brandished, and some desperate 
 passes exchanged. Balmawhapple was young, stout, and active ; 
 but the Baron, infinitely more master of his weapon, would, like 
 Sir Toby Belch, have tickled his opponent other gates than he did, 
 had he not been under the influence of Ursa Major. 
 
 Edward rushed forward to interfere between the combatants, 
 but the prostrate bulk of the Laird of Killancureit, over which he 
 stumbled, intercepted his passage. How Killancureit happened 
 to be in this recumbent posture at so interesting a moment, was 
 never accurately known. Some thought he was about to ensconce 
 himself under the table ; he himself alleged that he stumbled in 
 the act of lifting a joint-stool, to prevent mischief, by knocking 
 down Balmawhapple. Be that as it may, if readier aid than either 
 his or Waverley's had not interposed, there would certainly have 
 been bloodshed. But the well-known clash of swords, which was 
 no stranger to her dwelling, aroused Luckie Macleary as she sat 
 quietly beyond the hallan, or earthen partition of the cottage, with 
 eyes employed on Boston's Crook of the Lot, while her ideas were 
 engaged in summing up the reckoning. She boldly rushed in, 
 with the shrill expostulation, " Wad their honours slay ane another 
 there, and bring discredit on an honest widow-woman's house, 
 when there was a' the lee-land in the country to fight upon?" a 
 remonstrance which she seconded by flinging her plaid with great 
 dexterity over the weapons of the combatants. The servants 
 by this time rushed in, and being, by gi-eat chance, tolerably 
 sober, separated the incensed opponents, with the assistance of 
 Edward and Killancureit. The latter led off Balmawhapple, 
 cursing, swearing, and vowing revenge against every Whig, Presby- 
 terian, and fanatic in England and Scotland, from John-o'-Groat's 
 to the Land's End, and with difficulty got him to horse. Our 
 hero, with the assistance of Saunders Saunderson, escorted the 
 
8o WAVERLEY. 
 
 Baron of Bradwardine to his own dwelling, but could not prevail 
 upon him to retire to bed until he had made a long and rambling 
 apology for the events of the evening, of which, however, there was 
 not a word intelligible, except something about the Centaurs and 
 the LapithtE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 REPENTANCE AND A RECONCILIATION. 
 
 Waverley was unaccustomed to the use of wine, excepting with 
 great temperance. He slept therefore soundly till late in the suc- 
 ceeding morning, and then awakened to a painful recollection of the 
 scene of the preceding evening. He had received a personal affront, 
 ■ — ^he, a gentleman, a soldier, and a Waverley. True, the person who 
 offered it was not, at the time it was given, possessed of the mode- 
 rate share of sense which nature had allotted him ; true also, in re- 
 senting this insult, he would break the laws of Heaven, as well as of 
 his country ; true, in doing so, he might take the life of a young 
 man who perhaps respectfully discharged the social duties, and 
 render his family miserable; or he might lose his own ; — no plea- 
 sant alternative even to the bravest, when it is debated coolly and 
 in private. 
 
 All this pressed on his mind ; yet the original statement recurred 
 with the same irresistible force. He had received a personal 
 insult ; he was of the house of Waverley ; and he bore a commis- 
 sion. There was no alternative ; and he descended to the break- 
 fast parlour with the intention of taking leave of the family, and 
 writing to one of his brother officers to meet him at the inn mid- 
 way between TuUy-Veolan and the town where they were quar- 
 tered, in order that he might convey such a message to the Laird 
 of Balmawhapple as the circumstances seemed to demand. He 
 found Miss Bradwardine presiding over the tea and coffee, the 
 table loaded with wann bread, both of flour, oatmeal, and barley- 
 meal, in the shape of loaves, cakes, biscuits, and other varieties, 
 together with eggs, rein-deer-ham, mutton and beef ditto, smoked 
 salmon, marmalade, and all other delicacies which induced even 
 Johnson himself to extol the luxury of a Scotch breakfast above 
 that of all other countries. A mess of oatmeal porridge, flanked 
 by a silver jug, which held an equal mixture of cream and butter- 
 milk, was placed for the Baron's share of this repast ; but Rose 
 obs&rved he had walked out early in the morning, after giving 
 orders that his guest should not be disturbed. 
 
 Waverley sat down almost in silence, and with an air of absence 
 
WAVERLEY. 8l 
 
 and abstraction, which could not give Miss Bradwardine a favour- 
 able opinion of his talents for conversation. He answered at 
 random one or two obsei-vations which she ventured to make upon 
 ordinary topics ; so that feeling herself almost repulsed in her 
 efforts at entertaining him, and secretly wondering that a scarlet 
 coat should cover no better breeding, she left him to his mental 
 amusement of cursing Dr. Doubleit's favourite constellation of 
 Ursa Major, as the cause of all the mischief which had already 
 happened, and was, likely to ensue. At once he started, and his 
 colour heightened, as, looking towards the window, he beheld the 
 Baron and young Balmawhapple pass arm and arm, apparently in 
 deep conversation ; and he hastily asked, "Did Mr. Falconer sleep 
 here last night?" Rose, not much pleased with the abruptness of 
 the first question which the young stranger had addressed to her, 
 answered drily in the negative, and the conversation again sunk 
 into silence. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Saunderson appeared, with a message from 
 his master, requesting to speak with Captain Waverley in another 
 apartment. With a heart that beat a little quicker, not indeed 
 from fear, but from uncertainty and anxiety, Edward obeyed the 
 summons. He found the two gentlemen standing together, an air 
 of complacent dignity on the brow of the Baron, while something 
 like suUenness, or shame, or both, blanked the bold visage of 
 Balmawhapple. The former slipped his arm through that of the 
 latter, and thus seeming to walk with him, while in reality he led 
 him, advanced to meet Waverley, and, stopping in the midst of the 
 apartment, made in great state the following oration : '• Captain 
 Waverley, — my young and esteemed friend, Mr. Falconer, of Bal- 
 mawhapple, has craved of my age and experience, as of one not 
 wholly unskilled in the dependencies and punctilios of the duello' 
 or monomachia, to be his interlocutor in expressing to you the 
 regret with which he calls to remembrance certain passages of our 
 symposion last night, which could not but be highly displeasing to 
 you, as serving for the time under this present existing government. 
 He craves you, sir, to drown in oblivion the memory of such sole- 
 cisms against the laws of politeness, as being what his better reason 
 disavows, and to receive the hand which he offers you in amity ; 
 and I must needs assure you, that nothing less than a sense of 
 being dans son tort, as a gallant French chevalier, Mons. Le Bre- 
 tailleur, once said to me on such an occasion, and an opinion also 
 of your peculiar merit, could have extorted such concessions ; for 
 he and all his family are, and have been, time out of mind, 
 Mavortia pectora, as Buchanan saith, a bold and warlike sept, or 
 people." 
 
 F 
 
82 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Edward immediately, and with natural politeness, accepted the 
 hand which Balmawhapple, or rather the Baron in his character 
 of mediator, extended towards him. " It was impossible," he said, 
 " for him to remember what a gentleman expressed his wish he 
 had not uttered ; and he willingly imputed what had passed to 
 the exuberant festivity of the day." 
 
 " That 1^ very handsomely said," answered the Baron ; " for 
 undoubtedly, if a man be ebrius, or intoxicated, an incident which 
 on solemn and festive occasions may and will take place in the life 
 of a man of honour ; and if the same gentleman, being fresh and 
 sober, recants the contumelies which he hath spoken in his liquor, 
 it must be held vinum locuium est; the words cease to be his own. 
 Yet would 1 not find this exculpation relevant in the case of one 
 who was ebriosus, or an habitual drunkard ; because, if such a 
 person choose to pass the greater part of his time in the predica- 
 ment of intoxication, he hath no title to be exeemed from the obli- 
 gations of the code of politeness, but should learn to deport himself 
 peaceably and courteously when under influence of the vinous 
 stimulus. — And now let us proceed to breakfast, and think no more 
 of this daft business." 
 
 I must confess, whatever inference may be drawn from the cir- 
 cumstance, that Edward, after so satisfactory an explanation, did 
 much greater honour to the delicacies of Miss Bradwardine's 
 breakfast-table than his commencement had promised. Balma- 
 whapple, on the contrary, seemed embarrassed and dejected; and 
 Waverley now, for the first time, observed that his arm was in a 
 sling, which seemed to account for the awkward and embarrassed 
 manner with which he had presented his hand. To a question 
 from Miss Bradwardine, he muttered, in answer, something about 
 his horse having fallen ; and, seeming desirous to escape both 
 from the subject and the company, he rose as soon as breakfast 
 was over, made his bow to the party, and, declining the Baron's 
 invitation to tarry till after dinner, mounted his horse and returned 
 to his own home. 
 
 Waverley now announced his purpose of leaving Tully-Veolan 
 early enough after dinner to gain the stage at which he meant to 
 sleep ; but the unaffected and deep mortification with which the 
 goodnatured and affectionate old gentleman heard the proposal, 
 quite deprived him of courage to persist in it. No sooner had he 
 gained Waverley's consent to lengthen his visit for a few days, 
 than he laboured to remove the grounds upon which he conceived 
 he had meditated a more early retreat. " I would not have you 
 opine. Captain Waverley, that I am by practice or precept an 
 advocate of ebriefy, though it may be that, in our festivity of last 
 
WAVERLEY. 83 
 
 night, some of our friends, if not perchance altogether ebrii^ or 
 drunken, were, to say the least, ebrioli, by which the ancients 
 designed those who were fuddled, or as your English vernacular 
 and metaphorical phrase goes, half-seas over. Not that I would 
 so insinuate respecting you. Captain Waverley, who, like a prudent 
 youth, did rather abstain from potation ; nor can it be truly said 
 of myself, who, having assisted at the tables of many great gene- 
 rals and marechals at their solemn carousals, have the art to carry 
 my wine discreetly, and did not, during the whole evening, as ye 
 must have doubtless observed, exceed the bounds of a modest 
 hilarity." 
 
 There was no refusing assent to a proposition so decidedly laid 
 dovm by him who undoubtedly was the best judge ; although, had 
 Edward formed his opinion from his own recollections, he would 
 pronounced that the Baron was not only ebriolus, but verging to 
 become ebriusj or, in plain English, was incomparably the most 
 drunk of the party, except perhaps his antagonist the Laird of 
 Balmawhapple. However, having received the expected, or rather 
 the required, compliment on his sobriety, the Baron proceeded — 
 " No, sir, though 1 am myself of a strong temperament, I abhor 
 ebriety, and detest those who swallow wine giilcs causa, for the 
 oblectation of the gullet ; albeit I might deprecate the law of Pit- 
 tacus of Mitylene, who punished doubly a crime committed under 
 the influence of Liber Pater j nor would I utterly accede to the 
 objurgation of the younger Plinius, in the fourteenth book of his 
 ' Historia Naturalis.' No, sir ; I distinguish, I discriminate, and 
 approve of wine so far only as it maketh glad the face, or, in the 
 language of Flaccus, recepto amico" 
 
 Thus terminated" the apology which the Baron of Bradwardine 
 thought it necessary to make for the superabundance of his hospi- 
 tality ; and it may be easily believed that he was neither inter- 
 rupted by dissent, nor any expression of incredulity. 
 
 He then invited his guest to a morning ride, and ordered that 
 Davie GeUatley should meet them at the dern path with Ban and 
 Buscar. " For, until the shooting season commence, I would 
 willingly show you some sport, and we may, God willing, meet with 
 a roe. The roe. Captain Waverley, may be hunted at aU times 
 alike ; for never being in what is called pride of grease, he is also 
 never out of season, though it be a truth that his venison is not 
 equal to that of either the red or fallow deer.* But he will serve 
 to show how my dogs run ; and therefore they shall attend us with 
 David GeUatley." 
 
 Waverley expressed his surprise that his friend Davie was cap- 
 able of such trust ; but the Baron gave him to understand that 
 
 F a 
 
84 WAVERLEY. 
 
 tliis poor simpleton was neither fatuous, nee naturaliter idiota, as 
 is expressed in the brieves of furiosity, but simply a crack-brained 
 knave, who could execute very well any commission which jumped 
 with his own humour, and made his folly a plea for avoiding eveiy 
 other.' " He has made an interest with us," continued the Baron, 
 " by saving Rose from a great danger with his own proper peril ; 
 and the roguish loon must therefore eat of our bread and drink of 
 our cup, and do what he can, or what he will ; which, if the sus- 
 picions of Saunderson and the Bailie are well founded, may per- 
 chance in his case be commensurate terms." 
 
 Miss Bradwardine then gave Waverley to understand, that this 
 poor simpleton was dotingly fond of music, deeply affected by that 
 which was melancholy, and transported into extravagant gaiety by 
 light and Uvely airs. He had in this respect a prodigious memory, 
 stored with miscellaneous snatches and fragments of all tunes and 
 songs, which he sometimes applied, with considerable address, as 
 the vehicles of remonstrance, explanation, or satire. Davie was 
 much attached to the few who showed him kindness ; and both 
 aware of any slight or ill usage which he happened to receive, and 
 sufficiently apt, when he saw opportunity, to revenge it. The 
 common people, who often judge hardly of each other, as well as 
 of their betters, although they had expressed great compassion for 
 the poor innocent while suffered to wander in rags about the village, 
 no sooner beheld him decently clothed, provided for, and even a 
 sort of favourite, then they called up all the instances of sharpness 
 and ingenuity, in action and repartee, which his annals afforded, 
 and charitably bottomed thereupon a hypothesis, that David Gel- 
 latley was no farther fool than was necessary to avoid hard labour. 
 This opinion was not better founded than that of the Negroes, 
 who, from the acute and mischievous pranks of the nfonkeys, sup- 
 pose that they have the gift of speech, and only suppress their 
 powers of elocution to escape being set to work. But the hypo- 
 thesis was entirely imaginary ; David Gellatley was in good earnest 
 the half-ci'azed simpleton which he appeared, and was incapable of 
 any constant and steady exertion. He had just so much solidity 
 as kept on the windy side of insanity ; so much wild wit as saved 
 him from the imputation of idiocy ; some dexterity in field-sports 
 (in which we have known as great fools excel), great kindness and 
 humanity in the treatment of animals intrusted to him, warm 
 affections, a prodigious memory, and an ear for music. 
 
 The stamping of horses was now heard in the court, and Davie's 
 voice singing to the two large deer greyhounds, — 
 
 Hie away, hie away. 
 
 Over bank and over brae. 
 
WAVERLEY. 8.; 
 
 Where the copsewood is the greenest, 
 Where the fountains ghsten sheenest, 
 Where the lady-fern grows strongest, 
 Where the morning dew lies longest, 
 Where the black-cock sweetest sips it, 
 Where the fairy latest trips it : 
 Hie to haunts right seldom seen, 
 Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green, 
 Oyer bank and over brae. 
 Hie away, hie away. 
 
 " Do the verses he sings," asked Waverley, "belong to old Scot- 
 tish poetry. Miss Bradwardine ? " 
 
 " I believe not," she replied. " This poor creature had a brother, 
 and Heaven, as if to compensate to the family Davie's deficiencies, 
 had given him what the hamlet thought uncommon talents. An 
 imcle contrived to educate him for a Scottish kirk, but he could 
 not get preferment because he came from our ground. He 
 returned from college hopeless and broken-hearted, and fell into 
 a decline. My father supported him till his death, which happened 
 before he was nineteen. He played beautifully on the flute, and 
 was supposed to have a great turn for poetry. He was affectionate 
 and compassionate to his brother, who followed him like his 
 shadow, and we think that from him Davie gathered many frag- 
 ments of songs and music unlike those of this country. But if we 
 ask him were he got such a fragment as he is now singing, he 
 either answers with wild and long fits of laughter, or else breaks 
 into tears of lamentation ; but was never heard to give any explana- 
 tion, or to mention his brother's name since his death." 
 
 " Surely," said Edward, who was readily interested by a tale 
 bordering on the romantic, " surely more might be learned by 
 more particular inquiry." 
 
 " Perhaps so," answered Rose ; " but my father will not permit 
 any one to practise on his feelings on this subject." 
 
 By this time the Baron, with the help of Mr. Saunderson, had 
 indued a pair of jack-boots of large dimensions, and now invited 
 our hero to follow him as he stalked clattering down the ample 
 staircase, tapping each huge balustrade as he passed with the but 
 of his massive horse-whip, and humming, with the air of a chas- 
 seur of Louis Quatorze, 
 
 Pour la chasse ordonnee il faut preparer tout, 
 Ho la ho ! Vite ! vite debout. 
 
86 WAVERLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A MORE RATIONAL DAY THAN THE LAST. 
 
 The Baron of Bradwardine, mounted on an active and well- 
 managed horse, and seated on a demipique saddle, with deep 
 housings to agree with his livery, was no bad representative of the 
 old school. His light-coloured embroidered coat, and superbly 
 barred waistcoat, his brigadier wig, surmounted by a small gold- 
 laced cocked-hat, completed his personal costume ; but he was 
 attended by two well-mounted servants on horseback, armed with 
 holster-pistols. 
 
 In this guise he ambled forth over hill and valley, the admiration 
 of every farm-yard, which they passed in their progress, till, " low 
 down in a grassy vale," they found David Gellatley leading two 
 veiy tall deer greyhounds, and presiding over half a dozen curs, 
 and about as many bare-legged and bare-headed boys, who, to 
 procure the chosen distinction of attending on the chase, had not 
 failed to tickle his ears with the dulcet appellation of Maister Gel- 
 latley, though probably all and each had hooted him on former 
 occasions in the character of daft Davie. But this is no uncom- 
 mon strain of flattery to persons in office, nor altogether confined 
 to the bare-legged villagers of TuUy-Veolan : it was in fashion 
 Sixty Years since, is now, and will be six hundred years hence, if 
 this admirable compound of folly and knavery, called the world, 
 shall be then in existence. 
 
 These gillie-wet-foots* as they were called, were destined to 
 beat the bushes, which they performed with so much success, that, 
 after half an hour's search, a roe was started, coursed, and killed ; 
 the Baron following on his white horse, like Earl Percy of yore, 
 and magnanimously flaying and embowelling the slain animal 
 (which, he observed, was called by the French chasseurs, faire la. 
 curie) with his own baronial couteau de chasse. After this cere- 
 mony, he conducted his guest homeward by a pleasant and cir- 
 cuitous route, commanding an extensive prospect of different 
 villages and houses, to each of which Mr. Bradwardine attached 
 some anecdote of history or genealogy, told in language whimsical 
 from prejudice and pedantry, but often respectable for the good 
 sense and honourable feelings which his narrative displayed, and 
 almost always curious, if not valuable, for the information they 
 contained. 
 
 The truth is, the ride seemed agreeable to both gentlemen, 
 because they found amusement in each other's conversation, 
 
WAVERLEY. 87 
 
 although their characters and habits of thinking were in many- 
 respects totally opposite. Edward, we have informed the reader, 
 was warm in his feelings, wild and romantic in his ideas and in 
 his taste of reading, with a strong disposition towards poetry, 
 Mr. Bradwardine was the reverse of all this, and piqued himself 
 upon stalking through life with the same upright, starched, stoical 
 gravity which distinguished his evening promenade upon the ter- 
 race of TuIIy-Veolan, where for hours together — the very model of 
 old Hardyknute — 
 
 Stately stepp'd he east the wa', 
 And stately stepp'd he west. 
 
 As for literature, he read the classic poets, to be sure, and the 
 Epithalamium of Georgius Buchanan, and Arthur Johnstone's 
 Psalms, of a Sunday ; and the Deliciae Poetarum Scotorum, and 
 Sir David Lindsay's Works, and Barbour's Bruce, and BUnd 
 Harry's Wallace, and the Gentle Shepherd, and the Cherry and 
 the Slae. But though he thus far sacrificed his time to the Muses, 
 he would, if the truth must be spoken, have been much better pleased 
 had the pious or sapient apophthegms, as well as the historical 
 narratives, which these various works contained, been presented to 
 him in the form of simple prose. And he sometimes could not 
 refrain from expressing contempt of the "vain and unprofitable 
 art of poem-making," in which, he said, " the only one who had 
 excelled in his time was Allan Ramsay, the periwig-maker."* 
 
 But although Edward and he differed ioto ccelo, as the Baron 
 would have said, upon this subject, yet they met upon history as 
 on a neutral ground, in which each claimed an interest. The 
 Baron, indeed, only cumbered his memory with matters of fact ; 
 the cold, dry, hard outlines which history delineates. Edward, on 
 the contrary, loved to fill up and round the sketch with the colour- 
 ing of a warm and vivid imagination, which gives light and life to 
 the actors and speakers in the drama of past ages. Yet with 
 tastes so opposite, they contributed greatly to each other's amuse- 
 ment. Mr. Bradwardine's minute narratives and powerful memory 
 supplied to Waverley fresh subjects of the kind upon which his 
 fancy loved to labour, and opened to him a new mine of incident 
 and of character. And he repaid the pleasure thus communicated, 
 by an earnest attention, valuable to all story-tellers, more especially 
 to the Baron, who felt his habits of self-respect flattered by it ; 
 and sometimes also by reciprocal communications, which interested 
 Mr. Bradwardine, as confirming or illustrating his own favourite 
 anecdotes. Besides, Mr. Bradwardine loved to talk of the scenes 
 «»f his youth, which had been spent in camps and foreign lands, 
 
88 WAVERLEY. 
 
 and had many interesting particulars to tell of the generals under 
 whom he had served, and the actions he had witnessed. 
 
 Both parties returned to TuUy-VeoIan in great good-humour 
 with each other ; Waverley desirous of studying more attentively 
 what he considered as a singular and interesting character, gifted 
 with a memory containing a curious register of ancient and modern 
 anecdotes ; and Bradwardine disposed to regard Edward as puer 
 (or rather juvenis) bones spei et magncB indolis, a youth devoid of 
 that petulant volatility, which is impatient of, or vilipends, the 
 conversation and advice of his seniors, from which he predicted 
 great things of his future success and deportment in life. There 
 was no other guest except Mr. Rubrick, whose information and 
 discourse, as a clergyman and a scholar, harmonized very well 
 with that of the Baron and his guest. 
 
 Shortly after dinner, the Baron, as if to show that his temperance 
 was not entirely theoretical, proposed a visit to Rose's apartment, 
 or, as he termed it, her Troisieme Etas;e. Waverley was accord- 
 ingly conducted through one or two of those long awkward pas- 
 sages with which ancient architects studied to puzzle the inhabitants 
 of the houses which they planned, at the end of which Mr. Brad- 
 wardine began to ascend, by two steps at once, a very steep, 
 narrow, and winding stair, leaving Mr. Rubrick and Waverley to 
 follow at more leisure, while he should announce their approach 
 to his daughter. 
 
 After having climbed this perpendicular corkscrew until their 
 brains were almost giddy, they arrived in a little matted lobby, 
 which served as an ante-room to Rose's sanctum sanctorum, and 
 through which they entered her parlour. It was a small but 
 pleasant apartment, opening to the south, and hung with tapestry ; 
 adorned besides with two pictures, one of her mother, in the dress 
 of a shepherdess, with a. bell-hoop ; the other of the Baron, in his 
 tenth year, in a blue coat, embroidered waistcoat, laced hat, and 
 bag-wig, with a bow in his hand. Edward could not help smiling 
 at the costume, and at the odd resemblance between the round, 
 smooth, red-cheeked, staring visage in the portrait, and the gaunt, 
 bearded, hollow-eyed, swarthy features, which travelling, fatigues 
 of war, and advanced age, had bestowed on the original. The 
 Baron joined in the laugh. " Truly," he said, " that picture was a 
 woman's fantasy of my good mother's (a daughter of the Laird of 
 TuUiellum, Captain Waverley ; I indicated the house to you when 
 we were on the top of the Shinnyheuch; it was burnt by the Dutch 
 auxiliaries brought in by the Government in 1715;) I never sateffor 
 my pourtraicture but once since that was painted, and it was at the 
 special and reiterated request of the Marechal Duke of Berwick" 
 
WAVERLEY. 89 
 
 The good old gentleman did not mention what Mr. Rubrick after- 
 wards told Edward, that the Duke had done him this honour on 
 account of his being the first to mount the breach of a fort in Savoy 
 during the memorable campaign of 1709, and his having there 
 defended himself with his half-pike for nearly ten minutes before 
 any support reached him. To do the Baron justice, although 
 sufficiently prone to dwell upon, and even to exaggerate his family 
 dignity and consequence, he was too much a man of real courage 
 ever to allude to such personal acts of merit as he had himself 
 manifested. 
 
 Miss Rose now appeared from the interior room of her apart- 
 ment, to welcome her father and his friends. The little labours in 
 which she had been employed obviously showed a natural taste, 
 which required only cultivation. Her father had taught her French 
 and Italian, and a few of the ordinary authors in those languages 
 ornamented her shelves. He had endeavoured also to be her pre- 
 ceptor in music ; but as he began with the more abstruse doctrines 
 of the science, and was not perhaps master of them himself, she had 
 made no proficiency farther than to be able to accompany her voice 
 with the harpsichord ; but even this was not very common in 
 Scotland at that period. To make amends, she sung with great 
 taste and feeling, and with a respect to the sense of what she 
 uttered that might be proposed in example to ladies of much 
 superior musical talent. Her natural good sense taught her that if, 
 as we are assured by high authority, music be "married to immortal 
 verse," they are veiy often divorced by the performer in a most 
 shameful manner. It was perhaps owing to this sensibility to poetry, 
 and power of combining its expression with those of the musical 
 notes, that her singing gave more pleasure to all the unlearned in 
 music, and even to many of the learned, than could have been 
 communicated by a much finer voice and more brilliant execution, 
 unguided by the same delicacy of feeling. 
 
 A bartizan, or projecting gallery, before the windows of her par- 
 lour, served to illustrate another of Rose's pursuits ; for it was 
 crowded with flowers of different kinds, which she had taken under 
 her special protection. A projecting turret gave access to this 
 Gothic balcony, which commanded a most beautiful prospect. The 
 formal garden, with its high bounding walls, lay below contracted, 
 as it seemed, to a mere parterre ; while the view extended beyond 
 them down a wooded glen, where the small river was sometimes 
 visible, sometimes hidden in copse. The eye might be delayed by 
 a desirp to rest on the rocks, which here and there rose from the" 
 dell with massive or spiry fronts, or it might dwell on the noble, 
 though ruined tower, which was here beheld in all its dignity 
 
go WAVERLEY. 
 
 frowning from a promontory over the river. To the left 'were seen 
 two or three cottages, a part of the village ; the brow of the hill 
 concealed the others. The glen, or dell, was terminated by a sheet 
 of water, called Loch Veolan, into which the brook discharged it- 
 self, and which now glistened in the western sun. The' distant 
 country seemed open and varied in surface, though not wooded ; 
 and there was nothing to interrupt the view until the scene was 
 bounded by a ridge of distant and blue hills, which formed the 
 southern boundary of the strath or valley. To this pleasant station 
 Miss Bradwardine had ordered coffee. 
 
 The view of the old tower, or fortalice, introduced some family 
 anecdotes and tales of Scottish chivalry, which the Baron told with 
 great enthusiasm. The projecting peak of an impending crag which 
 rose near it, had acquired the name of St. Swithin's Chair. It was 
 the scene of a peculiar superstition, of which Mr. Rubrick men- 
 tioned some curious particulars, which reminded Waverley of a 
 rhyme quoted by Edgar in King Lear ; and Rose was called upon 
 to sing a little legend, in which they had been interwoven by some 
 village poet. 
 
 Who, noteless as the race from which he sprung, 
 Saved others' names, but left his own unsung. ' 
 
 The sweetness of her voice, and the simple beauty of her music, 
 gave all the advantage which the minstrel could have desired, and 
 which his poetry so much wanted. I almost doubt if it can be read 
 with patience, destitute of these advantages ; although I conjecture 
 the following copy to have been somewhat corrected by Waverley, 
 to suit the taste of those who might not relish pure antiquity. 
 
 St. Sfaif^in's €\vat. 
 On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere ye boune ye to rest, 
 Ever beware that your couch be blessed ; 
 Sign it with' cross, and sain it with bead. 
 Sing the Ave, and say the Creed. 
 For on Hallow-Mass Eve the Night-Hag will ride, 
 And all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side. 
 Whether the wind sing lowly or loud. 
 Sailing through moonshine or swath'd in the cloud. 
 The Lady she sat in St. Swithin's Chair, 
 The dew of the night has damp'd her hair ; 
 Her cheek was pale — but resolved and high 
 Was the word of her lip and the glance of her eye. 
 She mutter'd the spell of Swithin bold. 
 When his naked foot traced the midnight wold, 
 When he stopp'd the Hag as she rode the night, 
 And bade her descend, and her promise phglit. 
 
WAVERLEY. gi 
 
 He that dare sit on St. Swithin's Chair, 
 When the Night-Hag wings the troubled air, 
 Questions three, when he speaks the spell, 
 He may ask, and she must tell. 
 
 The Baron has been with King Robert his liege, 
 These three long years in battle and siege ; 
 News are there none of his weal or his woe, 
 And fain the Lady his fate would know. 
 
 She shudders and stops as the charm she speaks ; — 
 Is it the moody owl that shrieks .? , 
 
 Or is it that sound, betwixt laughter and scream. 
 The voice of the demon who haunts the stream ? 
 
 The moan of the wind sunk silent and low, 
 And the roaring torrent has ceased to flow ; 
 The calm was more dreadful than raging storm. 
 When the cold grey mist brought the ghastly form ! 
 
 " I am Sony to disappoint the company, especially Captain 
 Waverley, who listens with such laudable gravity ; it is but a 
 fragment, although I think there are other verses, describing the 
 return of the Baron from the wars, and how the lady was found 
 ' clay-cold upon the grounsill ledge.' " 
 
 "It is one of those figments," observed Mr. Bradwardine, "with 
 which the early history of distinguished families was deformed in 
 the times of superstition ; as that of Rome, and other ancient 
 nations, had their prodigies, sir, the which you may read in ancient 
 histories, or in the little work compiled by Julius Obsequens, and 
 inscribed by the learned Scheffer, the editor, to his patron, Bene- 
 dictus Skytte, Baron of Dudershoff." 
 
 " My father has a strange defiance of the marvellous, Captain 
 Waverley," observed Rose, " and once stood firm when a whole 
 synod of Presbyterian divines were put to the rout by a sudden 
 apparition of the foul fiend." 
 
 Waverley looked as if desirous to hear more. 
 
 " M,ust I tell my story as well as sing my song ? — Well — Once 
 upon a time there lived an old woman, called Janet Gellatley, who 
 was suspected to be a witch, on the infallible grounds that she was 
 very old, very ugly, very poor, and had two sons, one of whom was 
 a poet, and the other a fool, which visitation, all the neighbourhood 
 agreed, had come upon her for the sin of witchcraft. And she was 
 imprisoned for a week in the steeple of the parish church, and 
 sparingly supplied with food, and not permitted to sleep, until she 
 herself became as much persuaded of her being a witch as her 
 accusers ; and in this lucid and happy state of mind was brought 
 
92 WAVERLEY. 
 
 forth to make a clean breast, that is, to make open confession of 
 her sorceries, before all the Whig gentry and ministers in the 
 vicinity, who were no conjurors themselves. My father went to see 
 fair play between the witch and the clergy ; for the witch had been 
 born on his estate. And while the witch was confessing that the 
 Enemy appeared, and made his addresses to her as a handsome 
 black man, — which, if you could have seen poor old blear-eyed 
 Janet, reflected little honour on ApoUyon's taste, — and while the 
 auditors listened with astonished ears, and the clerk recorded with 
 a trembling hand, she, all of a sudden, changed the low mumbling 
 tone with which she spoke into a shrill yell, and exclaimed, ' Look 
 to yourselves ! look to yourselves ! I see the Evil One sitting in the 
 midst of ye.' The surprise was general, and terror and flight its 
 immediate consequences. Happy were those who were next the 
 door ; and many were the disasters that befell hats, bands, cuffs, 
 and wigs, before they could get out of the church, where they left 
 the obstinate prelatist to settle matters with the witch and her 
 admirer, at his own peril or pleasure." 
 
 " Rzstt solvziniur tabulcs," said the Baron: " when they recovered 
 their panic trepidation, they were too much ashamed to bring any 
 wakening of the process against Janet Gellatley." * 
 
 This anecdote led into a long discussion of 
 
 All those idle thoughts and fantasies, 
 ' Devices, dreams, opinions unsound, 
 Shows, visions, soothsays, and prophecies. 
 And all that feigned is, as leasings, tales, and lies. 
 
 With such conversation, and the romantic legends which it 
 introduced, closed our hero's second evening in the house of Tully- 
 Veolan. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A DISCOVERY.— WAVERLEY BECOMES DOMESTICATED AT TULLY- 
 VEOLAN. 
 The next day Edward arose betimes, and in a morning walk 
 around the house and its vicinity, came suddenly upon a small - 
 court in front of the dog-kennel, where his friend Davie was 
 employed about his four-footed charge. One quick glance of his 
 eye recognised Waverley, when, instantly turning his back, as if he 
 liad not observed him, he began to sing part of an old ballad : — 
 
 Young men will love thee more fair and more fast ; 
 
 Heard ye so merry the little bird sing f 
 Old men's love the longest will last, 
 
 And the throstle-cocHs head is under his wing. 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 93 
 
 The young man's wrath is like light straw on fire ; 
 
 Heard ye so merry the little bird sing? 
 But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire, 
 
 And the throstle-cocKs head is under his wing. 
 
 The young man will brawl at the evening board ; 
 
 Heard ye so merry the little bird sing f 
 But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword, 
 
 And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing. 
 
 Waverley could not avoid observing that Davie laid something 
 like a satirical emphasis on these lines. He therefore approached, 
 and endeavoured, by sundry queries, to elicit from him what the 
 innuendo might mean ; but Davie had no mind to explain, and had 
 wit enough to make his folly cloak his knavery. Edward could 
 collect nothing from him, excepting that the Laird of Balmawhapple 
 had gone home yesterday morning, "wi' his boots fu' o' bluid." In 
 the garden, however, he met the old butler, who no longer attempted 
 to conceal, that, having been bred in the nursery line with Sumack 
 and Co., of Newcastle, he sometimes wrought a turn in the flower- 
 borders to oblige the Laird and Miss Rose. By a series of queries, 
 Edward at length discovered, with a painful feeling of surprise and 
 shame, that Balmawhapple's submission and apology had been the 
 consequence of a rencontre with the Baron before his guest had 
 quitted his pillow, in which the younger combatant had been dis- 
 anned and wounded in the sword arm. 
 
 Greatly mortified at this information, Edward sought out his 
 friendly host, and anxiously expostulated with him upon the injus- 
 tice he had done him in anticipating his meeting with Mr. Falconer, 
 a circumstance, which, considering his youth and the profession of 
 arms which he had just adopted, was capable of being represented 
 much to his prejudice. The Baron justified himself at greater 
 length than I choose to repeat. He urged that the quarrel was 
 common to them, and that Balmawhapple could not, by the code of 
 honour, evite giving satisfaction to both, which he had done in his 
 case by an honourable meeting, and in that of Edward by such a 
 ■palinode as rendered the use of the sword unnecessary, and which, 
 being made and accepted, must necessarily sopite the whole affair. 
 
 With this excuse, or explanation, Waverley was silenced, if not 
 satisfied ; but he could not help testifying some displeasure against 
 the Blessed Bear, which had given rise to the quarrel, nor refrain 
 from hinting, that the sanctified epithet was hardly appropriate. The 
 Baron observed, he could not deny that " the Bear, though allowed 
 by heralds as a most honourable ordinary, had, nevertheless some- 
 what fierce, churlish, and morose in his disposition (as might be 
 read >". Archibald Simson, pastor of Dalkeith's Hieroglyphica 
 
94 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Animalhim), and had thus been the type of many quarrels and 
 dissensions which had occurred in the House of Bradwardinej of 
 which," he continued, " I might commemorate mine own unfortun- 
 ate dissension with my third cousin by the mother's side. Sir Hew 
 Halbert, who was so unthinlcing as to deride my family name,' as if 
 it had been quasi Bear-Warden j a most uncivil jest, since it not 
 only insinuated that the founder of our house occupied such a mean 
 situation as to be a custodier of wild beasts, a charge which, ye must 
 have observed, is only intrusted to the very basest plebeians ; but, 
 moreover, seemed to infer that our coat-armour had not been 
 achieved by honourable actions in war, but bestowed by way of 
 paranomasia, or pun upon our family appellation, — a sort of bearing 
 which the French call armoires parlantes j the Latins arma can- 
 tantia; and your English authorities, canting heraldry ; being 
 indeed a species of emblazoning more befitting canters, gaberlun- 
 zies, and suchlike mendicants, whose gibberish is formed upon 
 Tjlaying upon the word, than the noble, honourable, and useful 
 science of heraldry, which assigns armorial bearings as the reward 
 of noble and generous actions, and not to tickle the ear with vain 
 quodlibets, such as are found in jest-books." * Of his quarrel with 
 Sir Hew he said nothing more, than that it was settled in a fitting 
 manner. 
 
 Having been so minute with respect to the diversions of TuUy- 
 Veolan, on the first days of Edward's arrival, for the purpose of in- 
 troducing its inmates to the reader's acquaintance, it becomes less 
 necessary to trace the progress of his intercourse with the same 
 accuracy. It is probable that a young man, accustomed to more 
 cheerful society, would have tired of the conversation of so violent 
 an assertor of the " boast of heraldry " as the Baron ; but Edward 
 found an agreeable variety in that of Miss Bradwardine, who 
 listened with eagerness to his remarks uprn literature, and showed 
 great justness of taste in her answers. The sweetness of her dis- 
 position had made her submit with complacency, and even plea- 
 sure, to the course of reading prescribed by her father, although it 
 not only comprehended several heavy folios of history, but certain 
 gigantic tomes in high-church polemics. In heraldry he was 
 fortunately contented to give her only such a slight tincture as 
 might be acquired by perusal of the two folio volumes of Nisbet. 
 Rose was indeed the very apple of her father's eye. Her constant 
 liveliness, her attention to all those little observances most gratify- 
 ing to those who would never think of exacting them, her beauty, 
 in which he recalled the features of his beloved wife, her unfeigned 
 piety, and the noble generosity of her disposition, would have 
 justified the affection of the most doting father. 
 
WAVERLEY. 95 
 
 His anxiety on her behalf did not, however, seem to extend 
 itself in that quarter, where, according to the general opinion, it is 
 most efficiently displayed ; in labouring, namely, to establish her 
 in life, either by a large dowry or a wealthy marriage. By an old 
 settlement, almost all the landed estates of the Baron went, after 
 his death, to a distant relation ; and it was supposed that Miss 
 Bradwardine would remain but slenderly provided for, as the good 
 gentleman's cash matters had been too long under the exclusive 
 charge of Bailie Macwheeble, to admit of any great expectations 
 from his personal succession. It is true, the said Bailie loved his 
 patron and his patron's daughter next (though at an incomparable 
 distance) to himself. He thought it was possible to set aside the 
 settlement on the male line, and had actually procured an opinion 
 to that effect (and, as he boasted, without a fee) from an eminent 
 Scottish counsel, under whose notice he contrived to bring the 
 point while consulting him regularly on some other business. 
 But the Baron would not listen to such a proposal for an instant. 
 On the contrary, he used to have a perverse pleasure in boasting 
 that the barony of Bradwardine was a male fief, the first charter 
 having been given at that early period when women were not 
 deemed capable to hold a feudal grant ; because, according to Les 
 £OUStusmes de Normandie, c'est I'hoimne ki se bast et ki conseille; 
 or, as is yet more ungallantly expressed by other authorities, all of 
 whose barbarous names he delighted to quote at full length, because 
 a woman could not serve the superior, or feudal lord, in war, on 
 account of the decorum of her sex, nor assist him with advice, 
 because of her limited intellect, nor keep his counsel, owing to the 
 infirmity of her disposition. He would triumphantly ask, how it 
 would become a female, and that female a Bradwardine, to be seen 
 •employed in servitio extiendi, sett detrahendi, caligas regis post 
 iattaliam f that is, in pulling off the king's boots after an engage- 
 ment, which was the feudal service by which he held the barony of 
 Bradwardine. " No," he said, " beyond hesitation, procul dubio, 
 many females, as worthy as Rose, had been excluded, in order to 
 make way for my own succession, and heaven forbid that I should 
 do aught that might contravene the destination of my forefathers, 
 or impinge upon the right of my kinsman, Malcolm Bradwardine 
 of Inchgrabbit, an honourable though decayed branch of my owrl 
 family." 
 
 The Bailie, as prime minister, having received this decisive com- 
 munication from his sovereign, durst not press his own opinion 
 any farther, but contented himself with deploring, on all suitable 
 occasions, to Saunderson, the minister of the interior, the Laird's 
 self-willedness, and with laying plans for uniting Rose with the 
 
g6 WAVERLEY. 
 
 young laird of Balmawliapple, who had a fine estate, only mode- 
 rately burdened, and was a faultless young gentleman, being as 
 sober as a saint— if you keep brandy from him, and him from 
 brandy — and who, in brief, had no imperfection but that of keep- 
 ing light company at a time; such as Jinker, the horse-couper, and 
 Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the piper o' Cupar ; " o' whilk follies, Mr. 
 Saunderson, he'll mend, he'll mend," — pronounced the Bailie. 
 
 " Like sour ale in simmer," added David Gellatley, who hap- 
 pened to be nearer the conclave than they were aware of. 
 
 Miss Bradwardine, such as we have described her, with all the 
 simplicity and curiosity of a recluse, attached herself to the oppor- 
 tunities of increasing her store of literature which Edward's visit 
 afforded her. He sent for some of his books from his quarters, 
 and they opened to her sources of delight of which she had hitherto 
 had no idea. The best English poets, of every description, and 
 other works on belles lettres, made a part of this precious cargo. 
 Her music, even her flowers, were neglected, and Saunders not 
 only mourned over, but began to mutiny against the labour for 
 which he now scarce received thanks. These new pleasures 
 became gradually enhanced by sharing them with one of a kindred 
 taste. Edward's readiness to comment, to recite, to explain diffi- 
 cult passages, rendered his assistance invaluable ; and the wild 
 roinance of his spirit delighted a character too young and inexpe- 
 rienced to observe its deficiencies. Upon subjects which interested 
 him, and when quite at ease, he possessed that flow of natural, and 
 somewhat florid eloquence, which has been supposed as powerful 
 even as figure, fashion, fame, or fortune, in winning the female 
 heart. There was, therefore, an increasing danger, in this constant 
 intercourse, to poor Rose's peace of mind, which was the more 
 imminent, as her father was greatly too much abstracted in his 
 studies, and wrapped up in his own dignity, to' dream of his 
 daughter's incurring it. The daughters of the house of Bradwar- 
 dine were, in his opinion, like those of the house of Bourbon or 
 Austria, placed high above the clouds of passion which might 
 obfuscate the intellects of meaner females ; they moved in another 
 sphere, were governed by other feelings, and amenable to other 
 rules, than those of idle and fantastic affection. In short, he shut 
 his eyes so resolutely to the natural consequences of Edward's 
 intimacy with Miss Bradwardine, that the whole neighbourhood 
 concluded that he had opened them to the advantages of a match 
 between his daughter and the wealthy young Englishman, and 
 pronounced him much less a fool than he had generally shown 
 himself in cases where his own interest was concerned. 
 
 If the Baron, however, had really meditated such an alliance, 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 97 
 
 the indifference of Waverley would have been an insuperable bar 
 to his project. Our hero, since mixing more freely with the world, 
 had. learned to think with great shame and confusion upon his 
 mental legend of St. Cecilia, and the vexation of these reflections 
 was likely, for some time at least, to counterbalance the natural 
 susceptibility of his disposition. Besides, Rose Bradwardine, 
 beautiful and amiable as we have described her, had not precisely 
 the sort of beauty or merit which captivates a romantic imagina- 
 tion in early youth. She was too frank, too^ confiding, too kind ; 
 amiable quaUties, undoubtedly, but destructive of the marvellous, 
 with which a youth of imagination dehghts to dress the empress of 
 his affections. Was it possible to bow, to tremble, and to adore, 
 before the timid yet playful little girl, who now asked Edward to 
 mend her pen, now to construe a stanza in Tasso, and now how to 
 spell a very— vei-y long word in her version of it ? All these inci- 
 dents have their fascination on the mind at a certain period of hfe, 
 but not when a youth is entering it, and rather looking out for some 
 object whose affection may dignify him in his own eyes, than 
 stooping to one who looks up to him for such distinction. Hence, 
 though there can be no rule in so capricious a passion, early love 
 is frequently ambitious in choosing its object ; or, which comes to 
 the same, selects her (as in the case of Saint Cecilia aforesaid) 
 from a situation that gives fair scope for le beau ideal, which the 
 reality of intimate and familiar life rather tends to limit and im- 
 pair. 1 loiew a very accomplished and sensible young man cured 
 of a violent passion for a pretty woman, whose talents were not 
 equal to her face and figure, by being permitted to bear her com- 
 pany for a whole afternoon. Thus it is certain, that had Edward 
 enjoyed such an opportunity of conversing with Miss Stubbs, Aunt 
 Rachel's precautions would have been unnecessary, for he would 
 as soon have fallen in love with the dairy-maid. And although 
 Miss Bradwardine was a very different character, it seems pro- 
 bable that the very intimacy of their intercourse prevented his 
 feeling for her other sentiments than those of a brother for an 
 amiable and accomplished sister ; while the sentiments of poor 
 Rose were gradually, and without her being conscious, assuming a 
 shade of warmer affection. 
 
 I ought to have said that Edward, when he sent to Dundee for 
 the books before mentioned, had applied for, and received permis- 
 sion, extending his leave of absence. But the letter of his com- 
 manding-officer contained a friendly recommendation to him, not 
 to spend his time exclusively with persons who, estimable as they 
 might be in a general sense, could not be supposed well affected to 
 a government which they declined to acknowledge by taking the ' 
 
pa WAVERLEY. 
 
 oath oC allegiance. The letter further insinuated, though with 
 great delicacy, that although some family connections might be 
 supposed to render it necessary for Captain Waverley to commu- 
 nicate with gentlemen who were in this unpleasant state of suspi- 
 cion, yet his father's situation and wishes ought to prevent his 
 prolonging those attentions into exclusive intimacy. And it was 
 intimated, that while his political principles were endangered by 
 communicating with laymen of this description, he might also 
 receive erroneous impressions in religion from the prelatic clergy, 
 who so perversely laboured to set up the royal prerogative in things 
 sacred. 
 
 This last insinuation probably induced Waverley to set both 
 down to the prejudices of his commanding-officer. He was sen- 
 sible that Mr. Bradwardine had acted with the most scrupulous 
 delicacy, in never entering upon any discussion that had the most 
 remote tendency to bias his mind in political opinions, although he 
 was himself not only a decided partizan of the exiled family, but 
 had been trusted at different times with important commissions for 
 their service. Sensible, therefore, that there was no risk of his 
 being perverted from his allegiance, Edward felt as if he should 
 do his uncle's old friend injustice in removing from a house where 
 he gave and received pleasure and amusement, merely to gratify a^ 
 prejudiced and ill-judged suspicion. He therefore wrote a very 
 general answer, assuring his commanding officer that his loyalty 
 was not in the most distant danger of contamination, and con- 
 tinued an honoured guest and inmate of the house of TuUy- 
 Veolan. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A CREAGH* AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 When Edward had been a guest at Tully-Veolan nearly six 
 weeks, he descried, one morning, as he took his usual walk before 
 the breakfast-hour, signs of uncommon perturbation in the family. 
 Four bare-legged dairy-maids, with each an empty milk-pail in her 
 hand, ran about with frantic gestures, and uttering loud exclama- 
 tions of surprise, grief, and resentment. From their appearance, a 
 pagan might have conceived them a detachment of the celebrated 
 Belides, just come from their baking penance. As nothing was to 
 be got from this distracted chorus, excepting " Lord guide us ! " and 
 " Eh sirs ! " ejaculations which threw no light upon the cause of 
 their dismay, Waverley repaired to the fore-court, as it was called, 
 where he beheld Bailie Macwheeble cantering his white pony 
 
WAVERLEY. 99 
 
 down the avenue with all the speed it could muster. He had 
 arrived, it would seem, upon a hasty summons, and was followed 
 by half a score of peasants from the village, who had no great 
 difficulty in keeping pace with him. 
 
 The Bailie, greatly too busy, and too important, to enter into 
 explanations with Edward, summoned forth Mr. Saunderson, who 
 appeared with a countenance in which dismay was mingled with 
 solemnity, and they immediately entered into close conference. 
 Davie Gellatley was also seen in the group, idle as Diogenes at 
 Sinope, while his countrymen were preparing for a siege. His 
 spirits always rose with anything, good or bad, which occasioned 
 tumult, and he continued frisking, hopping, dancing, and singing 
 the burden of an old ballad, — 
 
 " Our gear's a' gane," 
 
 until, happening to pass too near the Bailie, he received an 
 admonitory hint from his horse-whip, which converted his songs 
 into lamentation. 
 
 Passing from thence towards the garden, Waverley beheld the 
 Baron in person, measuring and re-measuring, with swift and 
 tremendous strides, the length of the terrace ; his countenance 
 clouded with offended pride and indignation, and the whole of his 
 demeanour such as seemed to indicate, that any inquiry concerning 
 the cause of his discomposure would give pain at least, if not 
 offence. Waverley therefore glided into the house, without ad- 
 dressing him, and took his way to the breakfast-parlour, where he 
 found his young friend Rose, who, though she neither exhibited the 
 resentment of her father, the turbid' importance of Bailie Mac- 
 -wheeble, nor the despair of the handmaidens, seemed, vexed and 
 thoughtful. A single word explained the mystery. "Your break- 
 fast will be a disturbed one. Captain Waverley. A party of Cate- 
 rans have come down upon us, last night, and have driven off all 
 our milch cows.'' 
 
 " A party of Caterans ? " 
 
 "Yes; robbers from the neighbouring Highlands. We used to 
 be quite free from them while we paid black-mail to Fergus Mac- 
 Ivor Vich Ian Vohr ; but my father thought it unworthy of his 
 rank and birth to pay it any longer, and so this disaster has hap- 
 pened. ■ It is not the value of the cattle, Captain Waverley, that 
 vexes me ; but my father is so much hurt at the affront, and is so 
 bold and hot, that I fear he will try to recover them by the strong 
 hand ; and if he is not hurt himself, he will hurt some of these 
 wild people, and then there will be no peace between them and us 
 perhaps for our lifetime; and we cannot defend ourselves as in old 
 
 G 2 
 
loo WAVERLEY. 
 
 times, for the government have taken all our arms ; and my dear 
 
 father is so rash— O what wiU become of us ! " Here poor Rose 
 
 lost heart altogether, and burst into a flood of tears. 
 
 The Baron entered at this moment, and rebuked her with more 
 asperity than Waverley had ever heard him use to any one. 
 "Was it not a shame," he said, "that she should exhibit herself 
 before any gentleman in such a light, as if she shed tears for a 
 drove of horned nolt and milch kine, like the daughter of a 
 Cheshire yeoman '.— Captain Waverley, I must requf^=t ycur tavour- 
 able construction of her grief, which may, or ought to proceeu, 
 solely from seeing her father's estate exposed to spulzie and depre- 
 dation from common thieves and sornars,* while we are hot 
 allowed to keep half a score of muskets, whether for defence or 
 rescue." 
 
 Bailie Macwheeble entered immediately afterwards, and by his 
 report of arms and ammunition confirmed this statement, in- 
 forming the Baron, in a melancholy voice, that though the people 
 would certainly obey his honour's orders, yet there was no chance 
 of their following the gear to ony guid purpose, in respect there 
 were only his honour's body servants who had swords and pistols, 
 and the depredators were twelve Highlanders, completely armed 
 after the manner of their country. — Having delivered this doleful 
 annunciation, he assumed a posture of silent dejection, shaking his 
 head slowly with the motion of a pendulum when it is ceasing to 
 vibrate, and then remained stationary, his body stooping at a more 
 acute angle than usual, and the latter part of his person projecting, 
 in proportion. 
 
 The Baron, meanwhile, paced the room in silent indignation, 
 and at length fixing his eye upon an old portrait, whose person 
 was clad in armour, and whose features glared grimly out of a 
 huge bush of hair, part of which descended from his head to his 
 shoulders, and part from his chin and upper-lip to his breast-plate, 
 - — " That gentleman. Captain Waverley, my grandsire," he said, 
 " with two hundred horse, whom he levied within his own bounds, 
 discomfited and put to the rout more than five hundred of these 
 Highland reivers, who have been ever lapis offensionis et petra 
 scandali, a stumbling-block and a rock of offence to the Lowland 
 vicinage— he discomfited them, I say, when they had the temerity 
 to descend to harry this country, in the time of the civil dissensions, 
 in the year of grace sixteen hundred forty and two. And now, sir, 
 I, his grandson, am thus used at such unworthy hands ! " 
 
 Here there was an awful pause ; after which all the company, 
 as is usual in cases of difficulty, began to give separate and incon- 
 sistent counsel. Alexander ab Alexandre proposed they should 
 
WAVERLEY. lor 
 
 send some one to compound with the Caterans, who would readily, 
 he said, give up their prey for a dollar a head. The Bailie opined 
 that this transaction would amount to theft-boot, or composition of 
 felony ; and he recommended that some canny hand should be sent 
 up to the glens to make the best bargain he could, as it were for 
 himself, so that the Laird might not be seen in such a transaction. 
 Edward proposed to send off to the nearest, garrison for a party of 
 soldiers and a magistrate's warrant ; and Rose, as far as she dared, 
 endeavoured to insinuate the course of paying the arrears of tribute 
 money to Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr, who, they all knew, 
 could easily procure restoration of the cattle, if he were properly 
 propitiated. 
 
 None of these proposals met the Baron's approbation. The idea 
 of composition, direct or implied, was absolutely ignominious ; 
 that of Waverley only showed that he did not understand the state 
 of the country, and of the political parties which divided it ; and, 
 standing matters as they did with Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr, 
 the Baron would make no concession to him, were it, he said, " to 
 procure restitution in integrum of every stirk and stot that the 
 chief, his forefathers, and his clan, had stolen since the days of 
 Malcolm Canmore." 
 
 In fact, his voice was still for war, and he proposed to send 
 expresses to Balmawhapple, Killancureit, TuUiellum, and other 
 lairds, who were exposed to similar depredations, inviting them to 
 join in the pursuit ; "and then, sir, shall these nebulones nequissimi, 
 as Leslffius calls them, be brought to the fate of their predecessor 
 Cacus, 
 
 ' Elisos oculos, et siccum sanguine guttur.' " 
 
 The Bailie, who by no means relished these warlike counsels, 
 here pulled forth an immense watch, of the colour, and nearly of 
 the size, of a pewter warming pan, and observed it was now past 
 noon, and that the Caterans had been seen in the pass of Bally- 
 Brough soon after sun-rise ; so that before the allied forces could 
 assemble, they and their prey would be far beyond the reach of the 
 most active pursuit, and sheltered in those pathless deserts where 
 it was neither advisable to follow, nor indeed possible to trace 
 them. 
 
 This proposition was undeniable. The council therefore broke 
 up without coming to any conclusion, as has occurred to councils 
 of more importance ; only it was determined that the Bailie should 
 send his own three milk cows down to the Mains for the use of the 
 Baron's family, and brew small ale, as a substitute for milk, in his 
 own. To this arrangement, which was suggested by Saunderson. 
 
102 WAVERI.EY. 
 
 the Bailie readily assented, both from habitual deference to the 
 family, and an internal consciousness that his courtesy would, in 
 some mode or other, be repaid ten-fold. '■ 
 
 The Baron having also retired to give some necessary directions, 
 Waverley seized the opportunity to ask, whether this Fergus, 
 with the unpronounceable name, was the chief thief-taker of the 
 district. 
 
 " Thief-taker ! " answered Rose, laughing ; " he is a gentleman 
 of great honour and consequence ; the chieftain of an independent 
 branch of a powerful Highland clan, and is much respected, both 
 for his own power, and that of his kith, kin, and allies." 
 
 "And what has he to do with the thieves, then? is he a magis- 
 trate, or in the commission of the peace ? " asked Waverley. 
 
 " The commission of war rather, if there be such a thing," said 
 Rose ; " for he is a very unquiet neighbour to his un-friends, and 
 keeps a greater following on foot than many that have thrice his 
 estate. As to his connexion with the thieves, that I cannot well 
 explain ; but the boldest of them will never steal a hoof from any 
 one that pays black-mail to Vich Ian Vohr." 
 
 " And what is black-mail ?" 
 
 " A sort of protection-money that Low-country gentlemen and 
 heritors, lying near the Highlands, pay to some Highland chief, 
 that he may neither do them harm himself, nor suffer it to be done 
 to them by others ; and then if your cattle are stolen, you have 
 only to send him word, and he will recover them ; or it may be, he 
 will drive away cows from some distant place, where he has a ■ 
 quarrel, and give them to you to make up your loss." 
 
 "And is this sort of Highland Jonathan Wild admitted into 
 society, and called a gentleman ? " 
 
 " So much so," said Rose, " that the quarrel between my father 
 and Fergus Mac-Ivor began at a county meeting, where he wanted 
 to take precedence of all the Lowland gentlemen then present, 
 only my father would not suffer it« And then he upbraided my 
 father that he was under his banner, and paid him tribute ; and 
 my father was in a towering passion, for BaiHe Macwheeble, who 
 manages such things his own way, had contrived to keep this 
 black-mail a secret from him, and passed it in his account for cess- 
 money. And they would have fought ; but Fergus Mac-Ivor said 
 very gallantly, he would never raise his hand against a grey head 
 that was so much respected as my fathei's. — O ! I wish, I wish 
 thgy had continued friends ! " 
 
 "And did you ever see this Mr. Mac- Ivor, if that be his name. 
 Miss Bradwardine ? " 
 
 " No, that is not his name ; and he would consider master as 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 103 
 
 a sort of affront, only that you are an Englishman and know no 
 better. But the Lowlanders call him, like other gentlemen, by the 
 name of his estate, Glennaquoich ; and the Highlanders call him 
 Vich Ian Vohr, that is, the son of John the Great ; and we upon 
 the braes here call him by both names indifferently." 
 
 " I am afraid I shall never bring my English tongue to call him 
 by either one or other." 
 
 " But he is a very polite, handsome man," continued Rose ; 
 " and his sister Florals one of the most beautiful and accomplished 
 young ladies in this country : she was bred in a convent in France, 
 and was a great friend of mine before this unhappy dispute. Dear 
 Captain Waverley, try your influence with my father to make 
 matters up. I am sure this is but the beginning of our troubles ; 
 for Tully-Veolan has never been a safe or quiet residence when we 
 have been at feud with the Highlanders. When I was a girl about 
 ten there was a skirmish fought between a party of twenty of 
 them, and my father and his servants, behind the Mains ; and the 
 bullets broke several panes in the north windows, they were so 
 near. Three of the Highlanders were killed, and they brought 
 them in wrapped in their plaids, and laid them on the stone floor 
 of the hall ; and next morning, their wives and daughters came, 
 clapping their hands, and crying the coronach, and shrieking, and 
 carried away the dead bodies, with the pipes playing before them. 
 I could not sleep for six weeks without starting, and thinking 
 I heard these terrible cries, and saw the bodies lying on the steps, 
 all stiff and swathed up in their bloody tartans. But since that 
 time there came a party from the garrison at Stirling, with a war- 
 rant from the Lord Justice-Clerk, or some such great man, and 
 took away all our arms ; and now, how are we to protect ourselves 
 if they come down in any strength ■? " 
 
 Waverley could not help starting at a story which bore so much 
 resemblance to one of his own day-dreams. Here was a girl 
 scarce seventeen, the gentlest of her sex, both in temper and 
 appearance, who had witnessed with her own eyes such a scene 
 as he had used to conjure up in his imagination, as only occurring 
 in ancient times, and spoke of it coolly, as one very likely to recur. 
 He felt at once the impulse of curiosity, and that slight sense of 
 danger which only serves to heighten its interest. He might have 
 said with Malvolio, " ' I do not now fool myself, to let imagination 
 jade me ! ' I am actually in the land of military and romantic 
 adventures, and it only remains to be seen what will be my own 
 share in them." 
 
 The whole circumstances now detailed concerning the state of the 
 country, seemed equally novel and extraordinary. He had indeed 
 
104 WAVERLEY. 
 
 often heard of Highland thieves, but had no idea of the systematic 
 ; mode in which their depredations were conducted ; and that the 
 practice was connived at, and even encouraged, by many of the 
 Highland chieftains, who not only found the creaghs, or forays, 
 useful for the purpose of training individuals of their clan to the 
 practice of arms, but also of maintaining a wholesome terror among 
 their Lowland neighbours, and levying, as we have seen, a tribute 
 from them, under colour of protection-money. 
 
 Baihe Macwheeble, who soon afterwards entered, expatiated still 
 more at length upon the same topic. This honest gentleman's con- 
 versation was so formed upon his professional practice, that Davie 
 Gellatley once said his discourse was like " a charge of horning." 
 He assured our hero, that "from the maist ancient times of record, 
 the lawless thieves, limmers, and broken men of the Highlands, had 
 been in fellowship together by reason of their surnames, for the 
 committing of divers thefts, reifs, and herships upon the honest men 
 of the Low Country, when they not only intromitted with their 
 whole goods and gear, corn, cattle, horse, nolt, sheep, outsight and 
 insight plenishing, at their wicked pleasure, but moreover made 
 prisoners, ransomed them, or concussed them into giving bori-ows 
 (pledges) to enter into captivity again : AU which was directly 
 prohibited in divers parts of the Statute Book, both by the act one 
 thousand five hundred and sixty-seven, and various others ; the 
 whilk statutes, with all that had followed and might follow thei'e- 
 upon, were shamefully broken and vilipended by the said sornars, 
 limmers, and broken men, associated into fellowships, for the 
 aforesaid purposes of theft, stouthreef, fire-raising, murther, raptus 
 mulierum, or forcible abduction of women, and such like as afore- 
 said." 
 
 It seemed like a dream to Waverley that these deeds of violence 
 should be familiar to men's minds, and currently talked of, as 
 falling within the common order of things, and happening daily in 
 the immediate vicinity, without his having crossed the seas, and 
 while he was yet in the otherwise well-ordered island of Great 
 Britain.* 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ALLY APPEARS. 
 
 The Baron returned at the dinner-hour, and had in a great 
 measure recovered his composure and good-humour. He not only 
 confirmed the stories which Edward had heard from Rose and 
 BaiKe Macwheeble, but added many anecdotes from his own 
 experience, concerning the state of the Highlands and their 
 
WAVERLEY. lOS 
 
 inhabitants. The chiefs he pronounced to be, in general, gentle- 
 men of great honour and high pedigree, whose word was accounted 
 as a law by all those of their own sept, or clan. " It did not 
 indeed," he said, " become them, as had occurred in late instances, 
 to propone X!h£\r ;prosapia, a lineage which rested for the most part 
 on the vain and fond rhymes of their Seannachies or Bhairds, as 
 asquiponderate with the evidence of ancient charters and royal 
 grants of antiquity, conferred upon distinguished houses in the Low 
 Country by divers Scottish monarchs ; nevertheless, such was 
 their outrecvidance and presumption, as to undervalue those v/ho 
 possessed such evidents, as if they held their lands in a sheep's 
 skin." 
 
 This, by the way, pretty well explained the cause of quarrel 
 between the Baron and his Highland ally. But he went on to state 
 so many curious particulars concerning the manners, customs, and 
 habits of this patriarchal race, that Edward's curiosity became 
 highly interested, and he inquired whether it was possible to make 
 with safety an excursion into the neighbouring Highlands, whose 
 dusky barrier of mountains had already excited his wish to pene- 
 trate beyond them. The Baron assured his guest that nothing 
 would be more easy, providing this quarrel were first made up, 
 since he could himself give him letters to many of the distinguished 
 Chiefs, who would receive him with the utmost courtesy and hospi- 
 tality. 
 
 While they were on this topic, the door suddenly opened, and, 
 ushered by Saunders Saunderson, a Highlander, fully armed and 
 equipped, entered the apartment. Had it not been that Saunders 
 acted the part of master of the ceremonies to this martial appari- 
 tion, without appearing to deviate from his usual composure, and 
 that neither Mr. Bradwardine nor Rose exhibited any emotion, 
 Edward would certainly have thought the intrusion hostile. As it 
 was, he started at the sight of what he had not yet happened to 
 see, a mountaineer in his full national costume. The individual 
 Gael was a stout, dark, young man, of low stature, the ample folds 
 of whose plaid added to the appearance of strength which his 
 person exhibited. The short kilt, or petticoat, showed his sinewy 
 and clean-made limbs ; the goat-skin purse, flanked by the usual 
 defences, a dirk and steel-wrought pistol, hung before him ; his 
 bonnet had a short feather, which indicated his claim to be treated 
 as a Duinh^-wassel, or sort of gentleman ; a broadsword dangled 
 by his side, a target hung upon his shoulder, and a long Spanish 
 fowling-piece occupied one of his hands. With the' other hand he 
 pulled off his bonnet, and the Baron, who well knew their customs, 
 and the proper mode of addressing them, immediately said, with 
 
io6 WAVERLEY. 
 
 an air of dignity, but without rising, and much, as Edward thought, 
 in the manner of a prince receiving an embassy, " Welcome, Evan 
 Dhu Maccombich! what news from Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian 
 Vohr ? " 
 
 " Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr," said the ambassador, in 
 good English, "greets you well. Baron of Bradwardine and Tully- 
 Veolan, and is sorry there has been a thick cloud interposed be- 
 tween you and him, which has kept you from seeing and considering 
 the friendship and alliances that have been between your houses 
 and forbears of old ; apd he prays you that the cloud may pass 
 away, and that things may be as they have been heretofore between 
 the clan Ivor and the house of Bradwardine, when there was an 
 egg between them for a flint, and a knife for a sword. And he 
 expects you will also say, you are sorry for the cloud, and no man 
 shall hereafter ask whether it descended from the hill to the valley, 
 or rose from the valley to the hiU ; for they never struck with the 
 scabbard who did not receive with the sword, and woe to him who 
 would lose his friend for the stormy cloud of a spring morning." 
 
 To this the Baron of Bradwardine answered with suitable dignity, 
 that he knew the chief of clan Ivor to be a well-wisher to the Kin^, 
 and he was sorry there should have been a cloud between him and 
 any gentleman of such sound principles, " for when folks are banding 
 together, feeble is he who hath no brother." 
 
 This appearing perfectly satisfactory, that the peace between 
 these august persons might be duly solemnized, the Baron ordered 
 a stoup of usquebaugh, and, filling a glass, drank to the health and 
 prosperity of Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich ; upon which the Celtic 
 ambassador, to requite his politeness, turned down a mighty bumper 
 of the same generous liquor, seasoned with his good wishes to the 
 house of Bradwardine. 
 
 Having thus ratified the preliminaries of the general treaty of 
 pacification, the envoy retired to adjust with Mr. Macwheeble some 
 subordinate articles with which it was not thought necessary to 
 trouble the Baron. These probably referred to the discontinuance 
 of the subsidy, and apparently the Bailie found means to satisfy 
 their ally, without suffering his master to suppose that his dignity 
 was compromised. At least, it is certain, that after the plenipoten- 
 tiaries had drunk a bottle of brandy in single drams, which seemed 
 to have no more effect upon such seasoned vessels, than if it had 
 been poured upon the two bears at the top of the avenue, Evan 
 Dhu Maccombich, having possessed himself of all the information 
 which he could procure respecting the robbery of the preceding 
 night, declared his intention to set off immediately in pursuit of 
 the cattle, which he pronounced to be " no that far off ;— they have 
 
WAVERLEY. 107 
 
 broken the bone," he cbsei-ved, "but they have had no time to suck 
 the marrow." 
 
 Our hero, who had attended Evan Dhu during his perquisitions, 
 was much struck with the ingenuity which he displayed in collect- 
 ing information, and the precise and pointed conclusions which he 
 drew from it. Evan Dhu,, on his part, was obviously flattered with 
 the attention of Waverley, the interest he seemed to take in his 
 inquiries, and his curiosity about the customs and scenery of the 
 Highlands. Without much ceremony he invited Edward to accom- 
 pany him on a short walk of ten or fifteen miles into the mountains, 
 and see the place where the cattle were conveyed to ; adding, " If 
 it be as I suppose, you never saw such a place in your life, nor ever 
 will, unless you go with me or the like of me." 
 
 Our hero, feeling his curiosity considerably excited by the idea 
 of visiting the den of a Highland Cacus, took, however, the pre- 
 caution to inquire if his guide might be trusted. He was assured, 
 that the invitation would on no account have been given had there 
 been the least danger, and that all he had to apprehend was a little 
 fatigue ; and as Evan proposed he should pass a day at his Chief- 
 tain's house in returning, where he would be sure of good accom- 
 modation and an excellent welcome, there seemed nothing very 
 formidable in the task he undertook. Rose, indeed, turned pale 
 when she heard of it ; but her father, who loved the spirited curiosity 
 of his young friend, did not attempt to damp it by an alarm of 
 danger which really did not exist, and a knapsack, with a few 
 necessaries, being bound on the shoulders of a sort of deputy game- 
 keeper, our hero set forth with a fowling-piece in his hand, accom- 
 panied by his new friend Evan Dhu, and followed by the gamekeeper 
 aforesaid, and by two wild Highlanders, the attendants of Evan, 
 one of whom had upon his shoulder a hatchet at the end of a pole, 
 called a Lochaber-axe,* and the other a long ducking-gun. Evan, 
 upon Edward's inquiry, gave him to understand that this martial 
 escort was by no means necessary as a guard, but merely, as he 
 said, drawing up and adjusting his plaid with an air of dignity, 
 that he might appear decently at TuUy-Veolan, and as Vich Ian 
 Vohr's foster-brother ought to do. " Ah ! " said he, " if you Saxon 
 Duinhd-wassel (English gentleman) saw but the Chief with his tail 
 on!" 
 
 " With his tail on ! " echoed Edward, in some surprise. 
 
 " Yes — that is, with all his usual followers, when he visits those 
 of the same rank. There is," he continued, stopping and drawing 
 himself proudly up, while he counted upon his fingers the several 
 officers of his chief's retinue — " there is his hanckman, or right-hand 
 man ; then his bard, or poet ; then his bladier, or orator, to make 
 
io8 WAVERLEY. 
 
 harangues to the great folks whom he visits ; then his gilly-more, 
 or armour-bearer, to carry his sword and target, and his gun ; then 
 his gilly-casjliuch, who carries him on his back through the sikes 
 and brooks ; then \ii% gilly-coinstrian, to lead his horse by the bridle 
 in steep and difficult paths; then his gilfy-trushharnisk, to carry 
 his knapsack ; and the piper and the piper's man, and it may be a 
 dozen young lads beside, that have no business, but are just boys of 
 the belt, to follow the laird, and do his honour's bidding." 
 
 " And does your Chief regularly maintain all these men?" de- 
 manded Waverley. 
 
 " All these ? " replied Evan ; " ay, and many a fair head beside, 
 that would not ken where to lay itself, but for the mickle barn at 
 Glenn aquoich." 
 
 With similar tales of the grandeur of the Chief in peace and war, 
 Evan Dhu beguiled the way till they approached more closely those 
 huge mountains which Edward had hitherto only seen at a distance. 
 It was towards evening as they entered one of the tremendous 
 passes which afford communication between the high and low 
 country ; the path, which was extremely steep and rugged, winded 
 up a chasm between two tremendous rocks, following the passage 
 which a foaming stream that brawled far below appeared to have 
 worn for itself in the course of ages. A few slanting beams of the 
 sun, which was now setting, reached the water in its darksome bed, 
 and showed it partially, chafed by a hundred rocks, and broken by 
 a hundred falls. The descent from the path to the stream was a 
 mere precipice, with here and there a projecting fragment of granite, 
 or a scathed tree, which had warped its twisted roots into the 
 fissures of the rock. On the right hand, the . mountain rose above 
 the path with almost equal inaccessibility ; but the hill on the 
 opposite side displayed a shroud of copsewood, with which some 
 pines were intermingled. 
 
 " This," said Evan, " is the pass of Bally-Brough, which was 
 kept in former times by ten of the clan Donnochie against a hun- 
 dred of the Low Country carles. The graves of the slain are still 
 to be seen in that little corri, or bottom, on the opposite side of the 
 bum — if your eyes are good, you may see the green specks among 
 the heather — See, there is an earn, which you Southrons call an 
 eagle — you have no such birds as that in England — he is going to 
 fetch his supper from the Laird of Bradwardine's braes, but I'll 
 send a slug after him." 
 
 He fired his piece accordingly, but missed the superb monarch 
 of the feathered tribes, who, without noticing the attempt to annoy 
 him, continued his majestic flight to the southward. A thousand 
 birds of prey, hawks, kites, carrion-crows, and ravens, disturbed 
 
WAVERLEY. 109 
 
 from the lodgings which they had just taken up for the evenino- 
 rose at the report of the gun, and mingled their hoarse and dis- 
 cordant notes with the echoes which replied to it, and with the 
 roar of the mountain cataracts. Evan, a little disconcerted at 
 having missed his mark, when he meant to have displayed peculiar 
 dexterity, covered his confusion by whistling part of a pibroch as 
 he reloaded his piece, and proceeded in silence up the pass. 
 
 It issued in a narrow glen, between two mountains, both very 
 lofty, and covered with heath. The brook continued to be their 
 companion, and they advanced up its mazes, crossing them now 
 and then, on which occasions Evan Dhu uniformly offered the 
 assistance of his attendants to carry over Edward ; but our hero, 
 who had been always a tolerable pedestrian, declined the accommo- 
 dation, and obviously rose in his guide's opinion by showing that 
 he did not fear wetting his feet. Indeed he was anxious, so far as 
 he could without affectation, to remove the opinion which Evan 
 seemed to entertain of the effeminacy of the Lowlanders, and parti- 
 cularly of the English. 
 
 Through the gorge of this glen they found access to a black bog, 
 of tremendous extent, full of large pit-holes, which they traversed 
 with great difficulty and some danger, by tracks which no one but 
 a' Highlander could have followed. The path itself, or rather the 
 portion of more solid ground on which the travellers half walked, 
 half waded, was rough, broken, and in many places quaggy and 
 unsound. Sometimes the ground was so completely unsafe, that it 
 was necessarj' to spring from one hillock to another, the space 
 between being incapable of bearing the human weight. This was 
 an easy matter to the Highlanders, who wore thin-soled brogues fit 
 for the purpose, and moved with a peculiar springing step ; but 
 Edward began to find the exercise, to which he was unaccustomed, 
 more fatiguing than he expected. The lingering twilight served to 
 show them through this Serbonian bog, but deserted them almost 
 totally at the bottom of a steep and very stony hill, which it was 
 the travellers' next toilsome task to ascend. The night, however, 
 was pleasant, and not dark; and Waverley, calling up mental 
 energy to support personal fatigue, held on his march gallantly, 
 though envying in his heart his Highland attendants, who con- 
 tinued, without a symptom of abated vigour, the rapid and swinging 
 pace, or rather trot, which, according to his computation, had 
 ah-eady brought them fifteen miles upon their journey. 
 
 After crossing this mountain, and descending on the other side 
 towards a thick wood, Evan Dhu held some conference with his 
 Highland attendants, in consequence of which Edward's baggage 
 was shifted from the shoulders of the gamekeeper to those of one 
 
no WAVERLEY. 
 
 of the gillies, and. the former was sent off with the other moun- 
 taineer in a direction different from that of the three remaining 
 travellers. On asking the meaning of this separation, Waverley 
 was told that the Lowlander must go to a hamlet about three miles 
 off for the night ; for unless it was some veiy particular friend, 
 Donald Bean Lean, the worthy person whom they supposed to be 
 possessed of the cattle, did not much approve of strangers approach- 
 ing his retreat. This seemed reasonable, and silenced a qualm of 
 suspicion which came across Edward's mind, when he saw himself, at 
 such a place and such an hour, deprived of his only Lowland com- 
 panion. And Even immediately afterwards added, " that indeed 
 he himself had better get forward, and announce their approach to 
 Donald Bean Lean, as the arrival of a sidier roy (red soldier) might 
 otherwise be a disagreeable surprise." And without waiting for an 
 answer, in jockey phrase, he ti"otted out, and putting himself to a 
 very round pace, was out of sight in an instant. 
 
 Waverley was now left to his own nxeditations, for his attendant 
 with the battle-axe spoke very little English. They were traversing 
 a thick and, as it seemed, an endless wood of pines, and conse- 
 quently the path was altogether indiscernible in the murky darkness 
 which surrounded them. The Highlander, however, seemed to 
 trace it by instinct, without the hesitation of a moment, and Edward 
 followed his footsteps as close as he could. 
 
 After journeying a considerable time in silence, he could not help 
 asking, " Was it far to the end of their journey ?" 
 
 " Ta cove was tree, four mile ; but as Duinh^-wassel was a 
 wee taiglit, Donald could, tat is, might — would — should send ta 
 curragh." 
 
 This conveyed no information. The airragh which was pro- 
 mised might be a man, a horse, a cait, or chaise ; and no more 
 could be got from the man with the battle-axe, but a repetition of 
 " Aich ay ! ta curragh." 
 
 But in a short time Edward began to conceive his meaning, 
 when, issuing from the wood, he found himself on the banks of a 
 large river or lake, where his conductor gave him to understand 
 they must sit down for a little while. The moon, which now began 
 to rise, showed obscurely the expanse of water which spread before 
 them, and the shapeless and indistinct forms of mountains with 
 which it seemed to be surrounded. The cool and yet mild air of 
 the summer night refreshed Waverley after his rapid and toilsome 
 walk ; and the perfume which it wafted from the birch trees,* 
 bathed in the evening dew, was exquisitely fragrant. 
 
 He had now time to give himself up to the full romance of his 
 situation. Here he sate on the banks of an unknown lake, under 
 
WAVERLEY. m 
 
 the guidance of a wild native, whose language was unknown to him 
 on a visit to the den of some renowned outlaw, a second Robin 
 Hood, perhaps, or Adam o' Gordon, and that at deep midnight, 
 through scenes of difficulty and toil, separated from his attendant, 
 left by his guide ; — What a variety of incidents for the exercise of 
 a. romantic imagination, and all enhanced by the solemn feeling of 
 uncertainty, at least, if not of danger ! The only circumstance 
 "which assorted ill with the rest, was the cause of his journey — the 
 Baron's milk cows ! This degrading incident he kept in the back- 
 ground. 
 
 While wrapt in these dreams of imagination, his companion 
 .gently touched him, and, pointing in a direction nearly straight 
 across the lake, said " Yon's ta cove." A small point of light was 
 seen to twinkle in the direction in which he pointed, and gradually 
 increasing in size and lustre, seemed to flicker like a meteor upon 
 the verge of the horizon. While Edward watched this pheno- 
 menon, the distant dash of oars was heard. The measured sound 
 approached near and more near, and presently a loud whistle was 
 heard in the same direction. His friend with the battle-axe imme- 
 diately whistled clear and shrill, in reply tO' the signal, and a boat, 
 manned with four or five Highlanders, pushed for a little inlet, 
 near which Edward was sitting. He advanced to meet them with > 
 his attendant, was immediately assisted into the boat by the 
 •officious attention of two stout mountaineers, and had no sooner 
 seated himself than they resumed their oars, and began to row 
 a,cross the lake with great rapidity. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE HOLD OF A HIGHLAND ROBBER. 
 
 The party preserved silence, interrupted only by the monotonous 
 a.nd murmured chant of a Gaelic song, sung in a kind of low reci- 
 tative by the steersman, and by the dash of the oars, which the 
 notes seemed to regulate, as they dipped to them in cadence. 
 The light, which they now approached more nearly, assumed a 
 hroader, redder, and more irregular splendour. It appeared plainly 
 to be a large fire, but whether kindled upon an island or the main 
 land, Edward could not determine. As he saw it, the red glaring 
 •orb seemed to rest on the very surface of the lake itself, and re- 
 sembled the fiery vehicle in which the Evil Genius of an Oriental 
 tale traverses land and sea. They approached nearer, and the 
 light of the fire sufficed to show that it was kindled at the bottom 
 of a huge dark crag or rock, rising abruptly from the very edge of 
 
ii£ WAVERLEY. 
 
 the water ; its front, changed by the reflection to dusky red, formed 
 a strange and even awful contrast to the banks around, which 
 were from time to time faintly and partially illuminated by pallid 
 moonlight. 
 
 The boat now neared the shore, and Edward could discover that 
 this large fire, amply supplied with branches of pine-wood by two. 
 figures, who, in the red reflection of its Ught, appeared like demons,, 
 was kindled in the jaws of a lofty cavern, into which an inlet from 
 the lake seemed to advance ; and he conjectured, which was indeed 
 true, that the fire had been lighted as a beacon to the boatmen on. 
 their return. They rowed right for the mouth of the cave, and then, 
 shipping their oars, permitted the boat to enter in obedience to the 
 impulse which it had received. The skiff passed the little point or 
 platform of rock on which the fire was blazing, and running about 
 two boats' length farther, stopped where the cavern (for it was 
 already arched overhead) ascended from the water by five or six 
 broad ledges of rocks, so easy and regular that they might be 
 termed natural steps. At this moment a quantity of water was 
 suddenly flung upon the fire, which sunk with a hissing noise, and 
 with it disappeared the light it had hitherto afforded. Four or five^ 
 active arms lifted Waverley out of the boat, placed him on his feet^ 
 and almost carried him into the recesses of the cave. He made a 
 few paces in darkness, guided in this manner ; and advancing 
 towards a hum of voices, which seemed to sound from the centre- 
 of the rock, at an acute turn Donald Bean Lean and his whole es- 
 tablishment were before his eyes. 
 
 The interior of the cave, which here rose veiyliigh, was illumi- 
 nated by torches made of pine-tree, which emitted a bright and 
 bickering light attended by a strong though not unpleasant odour. 
 Their light was assisted by the red glare of a large charcoal fire, 
 round which were seated five or six armed Highlanders, while 
 others were indistinctly seen couched on their plaids, in the more 
 remote recesses of the cavern. In one large aperture, which the- 
 robber facetiously called his spence isx pantry), there hung by the- 
 heels the carcasses of a sheep, or ewe, and two cows lately slaugh- 
 tered. The principal inhabitant of this singular mansion, attended, 
 by Evan Dhu as master of the ceremonies, came forward to meet, 
 his guest, totally different in appearance and manner from what 
 his imagination had anticipated. The profession which he followed. 
 — the wilderness in which he dwelt — the wild warrior forms that 
 surrounded him, were all calculated to inspire terror. From such 
 accompaniments, Waverley prepared himself to meet a stern,, 
 gigantic, ferocious figure, such as Salvator would have chosen ta. 
 be the central object of a group of banditti.* 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 113 
 
 Donald Bean Lean was the very reverse of all these. He was 
 thin in person and low in stature, with light sandy-coloured hair, 
 and small pale features, from which he derived his agnomen of 
 Bean, or white ; and although his form was light, well-propor- 
 tioned, and active, he appeared, on the whole, rather a diminutive 
 and insignificant figure. He had served in some inferior capacity 
 in the French ai-my, and in order to receive his English visitor in 
 great form, and probably meaning, in his way, to pay him a com- 
 pliment, he had laid aside the Highland dress for the time, to put 
 on an old blue and red uniform, and a feathered hat, in which he 
 was far from showing to advantage, and indeed looked so incon- 
 gruous, compared with all around him, that Waverley would have 
 been tempted to laugh, had laughter been either civil or safe. The 
 robber received Captain Waverley with a profusion of French 
 politeness and Scottish hospitality, seemed perfectly to know his 
 name and connexions, and to be particularly acquainted with his 
 uncle's political principles. On these he bestowed great applause, 
 to which Waverley judged it prudent to make a very general 
 reply. 
 
 Being placed at a convenient distance from the charcoal fire, the 
 heat of which the season rendered oppressive, a strapping High- 
 land damsel placed before Waverley, Evan, and Donald Bean, 
 three cogues, or wooden vessels composed of staves and hoops, 
 containing eanaruich* a sort of strong soup, made out of a parti- 
 cular part of the inside of the beeves. After this refreshment, 
 which, though coarse, fatigue and hunger rendered palatable, 
 steaks, roasted on the coals, were supplied in liberal abundance, 
 and disappeared before Evan Dhu and their host with a prompti- 
 tude that seemed like magic, and astonished Waverley, who was 
 much puzzled to reconcile their voracity with what he had heard of 
 the abstemiousness of the Highlanders. He was ignorant that 
 this abstinence was with the lower ranks wholly compulsory, and 
 that, like some animals of prey, those who practise it were usually 
 gifted with the power of indemnifying themselves to good purpose, 
 when chance threw plenty in their way. The whisky came forth 
 in abundance to crown the cheer. The Highlanders drank it 
 copiously and undiluted ; but Edward, having mixed a little with 
 water, did not find it so palatable as to invite him to repeat the 
 draught. Their host bewailed himself exceedingly that he could 
 offer him no wine : " Had he but known four-and-twenty hours 
 before, he would have had some, had it been within the circle of 
 forty miles round him. But no gentleman could do more to show 
 his sense of the honour of a visit from another, than to offer him 
 the best cheer his house afforded. Where there are no bushes 
 
 H 
 
IE4 WAVERLEY. 
 
 there can be no nuts, and the way of those you live wirh is that you 
 must follow." 
 
 He went on regretting to Evan Dhu the death of an aged man, 
 Donnacha an Amrigh, or Duncan with the cap, " a gifted seer," 
 who foretold, through the second sight, visitors of every description 
 who haunted their dwelling, whether as friends or foes. 
 
 " Is not his son Malcolm taishatr (a second-sighted person) ?" 
 asked Evan. , 
 
 " Nothing equal to his father," replied Donald Bean. ' " He told 
 us the other day we were to see a great gentleman riding on a 
 horse, and there came nobody that whole day but Shemus Beg, 
 the blind harper, with his dog. Another time he advertised us of 
 a wedding, and behold it proved a funeral ; and on the creagh, 
 when he foretold to us we should bring home a hundred head of 
 horned cattle, we gripped nothing but a fat bailie of Perth." 
 
 From this discourse he passed to the political and military state 
 of the country ; and Waverley was astonished, and even alarmed, 
 to find a person of this description so accurately acquainted with 
 the strength of the various garrisons and regihients quartered north 
 of the Tay. He even mentioned the exact number of recruits who 
 had joined Waverley's troop from his uncle's estate, and observed 
 they were pretty men, meaning, not handsome, but stout warlike 
 fellows. He put Waverley in mind of one- or two minute circum- 
 stances which had happened at a general review of the regiment, 
 which satisfied him that the robber had been an eye-witness of it ; 
 and Evan Dhu having by this time retired from the conversation, 
 and wrapped himself up in his plaid to take some repose, Donald 
 asked Edward, in a very significant manner, whether he had no- 
 thing particular to say to him. 
 
 Waverley, surprised and somewhat startled at this question from 
 such a character, answered he had no motive in visiting him but 
 curiosity to see his extraordinary place of residence. Donald Bean 
 Lean looked him steadily in the face for an instant, and then said, 
 with a significant nod, " You might as well have confided in me ; I 
 am as much worthy of trust as either the Baron of Bradwardine, or 
 Vich Ian Vohr : — But you are equally welcome to my house." 
 
 Waverley felt an involuntary shudder creep over him at the 
 mysterious language held by this outlawed and lawless bandit, 
 which, in despite of his attempts to master it, deprived him of the 
 power to ask the meaning of his insinuations. A heath pallet, 
 with the flowers stuck uppermost, had been prepared for him in a 
 recess of the cave, and here, covered with such spare plaids as 
 could be mustered, he lay for some time watching the motions of 
 the other inhabitants of the cavern. Small parties of two or three 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 "S 
 
 entered or left the place without any other ceremony than a few 
 words in Gaelic to the principal outlaw, and, when he fell asleep, to 
 a tall Highlander who acted as his lieutenant, and seemed to keep 
 watch during his repose. Those who entered, seemed to have 
 returned from some excursion, of which they reported the success, 
 and went without faxther ceremony to the larder, where, cutting 
 with their dirks their rations from the carcasses which were there 
 suspended, they proceeded to broil and eat them at their own 
 pleasure and leisure. The liquor was under strict regulation, 
 being served out either by Donald himself, his lieutenant, or the 
 strapping Highland girl aforesaid, who was the only female that 
 appeared. The allowance of whisky, however, would have ap- 
 peared prodigal to any but Highlanders, who, living entirely in the 
 open air, and in a very moist climate, can consume great quantities 
 of ardent spirits without the usual baneful effects either upon the 
 brain or constitution. 
 
 At length the fluctuating groups began to swim before the eyes 
 of our hero as they gradually closed ; nor did he re-open them till 
 the morning sun was high on the lake without, though there was 
 but a faint and glimmering twilight in the recesses of Uaimh an Ri, 
 or the King's Cavern, as the abode of Donald Bean Lean was 
 proudly denominated. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WAVERLEY PROCEEDS ON HIS JOURNEY. 
 
 When Edward had collected his scattered recollection, he was 
 surprised to observe the cavern totally deserted. Having arisen 
 and put his dress in some order, he looked more accurately round 
 him ; but all was still solitary. If it had not been for the decayed 
 brands of the fire, now sunk into grey ashes, and the remnants of 
 the festival, consisting of bones half burnt and half gnawed, .and an 
 empty keg or two, there remained no traces of Donald and his 
 band. When Waverley sallied forth to the entrance of the cave, he 
 perceived that the point of rock, on which remained the marks of 
 last night's beacon, was accessible by a small path either natural, 
 or roughly hewn in the rock, along the little inlet of water which 
 ran a few yards up into the cavern, where, as in a wet-dock, the 
 skiff which brought him there the night before was still lying 
 moored. When he reached the small projecting platform on which 
 the beacon had been established, he would have believed his 
 further progress by land impossible, only that it was scarce pro- 
 bible but what the inhabitants of the cavern had some mode o£ 
 
 H 2 
 
Si6 WAVERLEY. 
 
 issuing from it otherwise than by the lake. Accordingly, he soon 
 observed three or four shelving steps, or ledges of rock, at the very 
 extremity of the little platform ; and, making use of them as a stair- 
 case, he clambered by their means around the projecting shoulder 
 of the crag on which the cavern opened, and, descending with some 
 difficulty on the other side, he gained the wild and precipitous 
 shores of a Highland loch, about four miles in length, and a mile 
 and a half across, surrounded by heathy and savage mountains, on 
 the crests of which the morning mist was still sleeping. 
 
 Looking back to the place from which he came, he could not 
 help admiring the address which had adopted a retreat of such 
 seclusion and secrecy. The rock, round the shoulder of which he 
 had turned by a few imperceptible notches, that barely afforded 
 place for the foot, seemed, in looking back upon it, a huge preci- 
 pice, which barred all farther passage by the shores of the lake in 
 that direction. There could be no possibility, the breadth of the 
 lake considered, of descrying the entrance of the narrow and low- 
 browed cave from the other side ; so that, unless the retreat had 
 been sought for with boats, or disclosed by treachery, it might be 
 a safe and secret residence to its garrison as long as they were 
 supplied with provisions. Having satisfied his curiosity in these 
 particulars, Waverley looked around for Evan Dhu and his 
 attendant, who, he rightly judged, would be at no great distance, 
 whatever might have become of Donald Bean Lean and his party, 
 whose mode of life was, of course, liable to sudden migrations of 
 abode. Accordingly, at the distance of about half a mile, he 
 beheld a Highlander (Evan apparently) angling in the lake, 
 «(fith another attending him, whom, from the weapon which he 
 shouldered, he recognised for his friend with the battle-axe. 
 
 Much nearer to the mouth of the cave, he heard the notes of a 
 lively Gaelic song, guided by which, in a sunny recess, shaded by 
 a glittering birch-tree, and carpeted with a bank of firm white sand, 
 he found the damsel of the cavern, whose lay had already reached 
 him, busy, to the best of her power, in arranging to advantage 
 a morning repast of milk, eggs, barley-bread, fresh butter, and 
 honeycomb. The poor girl had already made a circuit of four 
 miles that morning in search of the eggs, of the meal which baked 
 her cakes, and of the other materials of the breakfast, being all 
 delicacies which she had to beg or borrow from distant cottagers. 
 The followers of Donald Bean Lean used little food except the 
 flesh of the animals which they drove away from the Lowlands ; 
 bread itself was a delicacy seldom thought of, because hard to be 
 obtained, and all the domestic accommodations of milk, poultrj'', 
 butter, &c., were out of the question in this Scythian camp. Yet 
 
WAVERLEY. IIT 
 
 St must not be omitted, that although Alice had occupied a part of 
 the morning in providing those accommodations for her guest 
 which the cavern did not afford, she had secured time also to 
 arrange her own person in her best trim. Her finery was very 
 simple. A short russet-coloured jacket, and a petticoat, of scanty 
 longitude, was her whole dress ; but these were clean, and neatly 
 arranged. A piece of scarlet embroidered cloth, called the snood, 
 confined her hair, which fell over it in a profusion of rich dark 
 curls. The scarlet plaid, which formed part of her dress, was laid 
 aside, that it might not impede her activity in attending the stranger. 
 I should forget Alice's proudest ornament, were I to omit men- 
 tioning a pair of gold ear-rings, and a golden rosary, which her 
 father (for she was the daughter of Donald Bean Lean) had brought 
 from France, the plunder, probably, of some battle or storm. 
 
 Her form, though rather large for her years, was very well pro- 
 portioned, and her demeanour had a natural and rustic grace, with 
 nothing of the sheepishness of an ordinary peasant. The smiles, 
 displaying a row of teeth of exquisite whiteness, and the laughing 
 eyes, with which, in dumb show, she gave Waverley that morning 
 greeting which she wanted English words to express, might have 
 been interpreted by a coxcomb, or perhaps by a young soldier, who, 
 without being such, was conscious of a handsome person, as meant 
 to convey more than the courtesy of an hostess. Nor do I take it 
 upon me to say, that the little wild mountaineer would have wel- 
 comed any staid old gentleman advanced in life, the Baron of 
 Bradwardine, for example, with the cheerful pains which she 
 bestowed upon Edward's accommodation. She seemed eager to 
 place him by the meal which she had so sedulously arranged, and 
 to which she now added a few bunches of cran-berries, gathered in 
 an adjacent morass. Having had the satisfaction of seeing him 
 seated at his breakfast, she placed herself demurely upon a stone 
 at a few yards' distance, and appeared to watch with great com- 
 placency for some opportunity of serving him. 
 
 Evan and his attendant now returned slowly along the beach, 
 the latter bearing a large salmon-trout, the produce of the morning's 
 sport, together with the angling-rod, while Evan strolled forward, 
 with an easy, self-satisfied, and important gait, towards the spot 
 where Waverley was so agreeably employed at the breakfast-table. 
 After morning greetings had passed on both sides, and Evan, 
 looking at Waverley, had said something in Gaelic to Alice, which 
 made her laugh, yet colour up to her eyes, through a complexion 
 well embrowned by sun and wind, Evan intimated his commands 
 that the fish should be prepared for breakfast. A spark from the 
 lock of his pistol produced a light, and a few withered fir branchea 
 
Ii8 WAVERLEY. 
 
 were quickly in flame, and as speedily reduced to hot embers, on 
 which the trout was broiled in large slices. To crown the repast, 
 Evan produced from the pocket of his short jerkin, a large scallop 
 shell, and from under the folds of his plaid, a ram's horn full of 
 whisky. Of this he took a copious dram, observing, he had 
 already taken his morning with Donald Bean Lean, before his 
 departure ; he offered the same cordial to Alice and to Edward, 
 which they both declined. With the bounteous air of a lord, Evan 
 then proffered the scallop to Dugald MaKony, his attendant, who 
 without waiting to be asked a second time, drank it off with great 
 gusto. Evan then prepared to move towards the boat, inviting 
 Waverley to attend him. Meanwhile, Alice had made up in 
 a small basket what she thought worth removing, and flinging her 
 plaid around her, she advanced up to Edward, and, with the 
 utmost simplicity, taking hold of his hand, offered her cheek to his 
 salute, dropping, at the same time, her little courtesy. Evan, who 
 was esteemed a wag among the mountain fair, advanced, as if to 
 secure a similar favour ; but Alice, snatching up her basket, 
 escaped up the rocky bank as fleetly as a roe, and, turning round 
 and laughing, called something out to him in Gaelic, which he 
 answered in the same tone and language ; then, waving her hand 
 to Edward, she resumed her road, and was soon lost among the 
 thickets, though they continued for some time to hear her lively 
 carol, as she proceeded gaily on her solitary journey. 
 
 They now again entered the gorge of the cavern, and stepping 
 into the boat, the Highlander pushed off, and, taking advantage of 
 the morning breeze, hoisted a clumsy sort of sail, while Evan 
 assumed the helm, directing their course, as it appeared to Waverley, 
 rather higher up thelake than towards theplace of his embarkation 
 on the preceding night. As they glided along the silver mirror, 
 Evan opened the conversation with a panegyric upon Alice, who, 
 he said, was both canny znAfendy; and was, to the boot of all 
 that, the best dancer of a strathspey in the whole strath. Edward , 
 assented to her praises so far as he understood them, yet could not 
 help regretting that she was condemned to such a perilous and 
 dismal life. 
 
 " Oich ! for that," said Evan, "there is nothing in Perthshire 
 that she need want, if she ask her father to fetch it, unless it be too 
 hot or too heavy." 
 
 " But to be the daughter of a cattle-stealer— a common thief ! " 
 
 " Common thief !— No such thing : Donald Bean Lean never 
 lifted less than a drove in his life." 
 
 " Do you call him an uncommon thief, then ? " 
 
 "No — he that steals a cow from a poor widow, or a stirk from a 
 
WAVERLEY. it^ 
 
 cottar, is a thief; lie that lifts a drove from a Sassenach laird, is 
 d gentleman-drover. And, besides, to take a tree from the forest, 
 a salmon from the river, a deer from the hill, or a cow from a 
 Lowland strath, is what no Highlander need ever think shame 
 upon." 
 
 " But what can this end in, were he taken in such an appro- 
 priation ? '■' 
 
 " To be sure he would die for the law, as many a pretty man has 
 done before him." 
 
 " Die for the law !" 
 
 " Ay ; that is, with the law, or by the law ; be strapped up on 
 the kind gallows of Crieff,* where his father died, and his goodsire 
 died, and where 1 hope he'U live to die himsel, if he's not shot, or 
 slashed, in a creagh." 
 
 " You hope such a death for your friend, Evan ? " 
 
 " And that do I e'en ; would you have me wish him to die on a 
 bundle of wet straw in yon den of his, like a mangy tyke ? " 
 
 " But what becomes of Alice, then ? " 
 
 " Troth, if such an accident were to happen, as her father would 
 not need her help ony langer, I ken nought to hinder me to marry 
 her mysell." 
 
 " Gallantly resolved ! " said Edward ; — " but, in the meanwhile, 
 Evan, what has your father-in-law (that shall be, if he have the 
 good fortune to be hanged) done with the Baron's cattle ? " 
 
 " Oich," answered Evan, " they were all trudging before your lad 
 and Allan Kennedy before the sun blinked ower Ben-Lawers this 
 morning ; and they'll be in the pass of Bally-Brough by this time, 
 in their way back to the parks of TuUy-Veolan, all but two, that 
 were unhappily slaughtered before 1 got last night to Uaimh an Ri." 
 
 " And where are we going, Evan, if I may be so bold as to ask ? " 
 said Waverley. 
 
 " Where would you be ganging, but to the laird's ain house of 
 Glennaquoich ? Ye would not think to be in his country, without 
 ganging to see him ? It would be as much as a man's life's worth." 
 
 " And are we far from Glennaquoich?" 
 
 " But five bits of miles ; and Vich Ian Vohr will meet us." 
 
 In about half an hour they reached the upper end of the lake, 
 where, after landing Waverley, the two Highlanders drew the boat 
 into a little creek among thick flags and reeds, where it lay per- 
 fectly concealed. The oars they put in another place of conceal- 
 ment, both for the use of Donald Bean Lean probably, when his 
 occasions should next bring him to that place. 
 
 The travellers followed for some time a delightful opening into 
 the hills, down which a little brook found its way to the lake. 
 
120 WAVERLEY. 
 
 When they had pursued their walk a short distance, Waverley 
 renewed his questions about their host of the cavern. 
 
 " Does he always reside in that cave?" 
 
 " Out, no ! it's past the skill of man to tell where he's to be 
 found at a' times ; there's not a dern nook, or cove, or corri, in the 
 whole country, that he's not acquainted with." 
 
 " And do others beside your master shelter him ? " 
 
 " My master ? — My master is in Heaven," answered Evan, 
 haughtily ; and then immediately assuming his usual civility of 
 manner — " But you mean my chief ; — no, he does not shelter 
 Donald Bean Lean, nor any that are like him ; he only allows him 
 (with a smile) wood and- water." 
 
 " No great boon, I should think, Evan, when both seem to be 
 very plenty." 
 
 " Ah ! but ye dinna see through it. ' When I say wood and 
 water, I mean the loch and the land ; and I fancy Donald would 
 be put tiU't if the laird were to look for him wi' threescore men in 
 the wood of Kailychat yonder ; and if our boats, with a score or 
 twa mair, were to come down the loch to Uaimh an Ri, headed by 
 mysell, or ony other pretty man." 
 
 " But suppose a strong party came against him from the Low 
 Country, would not your Chief defend him ? " 
 
 "Na, he would not ware the spark of a flint for him — if they 
 came with the law." 
 
 " And what must Donald do, then ? " 
 
 " He behoved to rid this country of himsell, and fall back, it may 
 be, over the mount upon Letter Scriven." 
 . " And if he were pursued to that place ? " 
 
 " I'se warrant he would go to his cousin's at Rannoch.'' 
 
 " Well, but if they followed him to Rannoch .'' " 
 
 " That," quoth Evan, " is beyond all belief ; and, indeed, to tell 
 you the truth, there durst not a Lowlander in all Scotland follow 
 the fray a gun-shot beyond Bally-Brough, unless he had the help 
 of the Sidier Dhu." 
 
 " Whom do you call so? " 
 
 " The Sidier Dhu ? the black soldier ; that is what they call the 
 independent companies that were raised to keep peace and law in 
 the Highlands. Vich Ian Vohr commanded one of them for five 
 years, and I was sergeant myself, I shall warrant ye. They call 
 them Sidier Dhu, because they wear the tartans, — as they call 
 your men, King George's men, Sidier Roy, or red soldiers." 
 
 " Well, but when you were in King George's pay, Evan, you were 
 surely King George's soldiers ? " 
 
 " Troth, and you must ask Vich Ian Vohr about that ; for we 
 
WAVERLEY. 121 
 
 are for his king, and care not much which o' them it is. At ony 
 rate, nobody can say we are King George's men now, when we 
 have not seen his pay this twelvemonth." 
 
 This last argument admitted of no reply, nor did Edward 
 attempt any : he rather chose to bring back the discourse to 
 Donald Bean Lean. "Does Donald confine himself to cattle, or 
 does he lift, as you call it, anything else that comes in his way ? " 
 
 " Troth, he's nae nice body, and he'll just tak ony thing, but 
 most readily cattle, horse, or live Christians ; for sheep are slow of 
 travel, and inside plenishing is cumbrous to carry, and not easy to 
 put away for siller in this country." 
 
 " But does he carry off men and women ? " 
 
 "Out, ay. Did not ye hear him speak o' the Perth bailie.' It 
 cost that body five hundred merks ere he got to the south of Bally- 
 Brough. — And ance Donald played a pretty sport.* There was to 
 be a blythe bridal between the Lady Cramfeezer, in the howe o' the 
 Mearns (she was the auld laird's widow, and no sae young as she 
 had been hersell), and young Gilliewhackit, who had spent his 
 heirship and moveables, like a gentleman, at cock-matches, bull- 
 baitings, horse-races, and the like. Now, Donald Bean Lean, 
 being aware that the bridegroom was in request, and wanting to 
 cleik the cunzie (that is, to hook the siller), he cannily carried off 
 Gilliewhackit ae night when he was riding dovering hame (wi' the 
 malt rather abune the meal), and with the help of his gillies he gat 
 him into the hills with the speed of light, and the first place he 
 wakened in was the cove of Uaimh an Ri. So there was old to do 
 about ransoming the bridegroom ; for Donald would not lower a 
 farthing of a thousand punds " 
 
 "The devil!" 
 
 " Punds Scottish, ye shall understand. And the lady had not 
 the siller if she had pawned her gown ; and they applied to the 
 governor o' Stirling castle, and to the major o' the Black Watch ; 
 and the governor said, it was ower far to the northward, and out of 
 his district ; and the major said, his men were gane hame to the 
 shearing, and he would not call them out before the victual was got 
 in for all the Cramfeezers in Christendom, let alane the Mearns, 
 for that it would prejudice the country. And in the meanwhile ye'll 
 no hinder Gilliewhackit to take the small-pox. There was not the 
 doctor in Perth or Stirling would look near the poor lad ; and 
 I cannot blame them, for Donald had been misguggled by ane of 
 these doctors about Paris, and he swore he would fling the first 
 into the loch that he catched beyond the Pass. However, some- 
 cailliachs (that is, old women), that were about Donald's hand, 
 nursed Gilliewhackit sae weel, that between the free open air in the 
 
122 WAVERLEiT. 
 
 cove and the fresh whey, deil an he did not recover maybe as weal 
 as if he had been closed in a glazed chamber and a bed with 
 curtains, and fed with red wine' and white meat. And Donald was 
 sae vexed about it, that when he was stout and weel, he even sent 
 him free home, and said he would be pleased with ony thing they 
 would like to gie him for the plague and trouble which he had 
 about Gilhewhackit to an unkenn'd degree. And I cannot tell yoa 
 precisely how they sorted ; but they agreed sae right that Donald 
 was invited to dance at the wedding in his Highland trews, and 
 they said that there was never sae meikle siller chnked in his purse 
 either before or since. And to the boot of all that, Gilhewhackit 
 said, that, be the evidence what it liked, if he had the luck to be 
 on Donald's inquest, be would bring him in guilty of nothing what- 
 ever, unless it were wilful arson, or murder under trust." 
 
 With such bald and disjointed chat Evan went on, illustrating 
 the existing state of the Highlands, more perhaps to the amuse- 
 ment of Waverley than that of our readers. At length, after 
 having marched over bank and brae, moss and heather, Edward, 
 though not unacquainted with the Scottish liberality in computing 
 distance, began to think that Evan's five miles were nearly doubled. 
 His observation on the large measure which the Scottish allowed 
 of their land, in comparison to the computation of their money 
 was readily answered by Evan, with the old jest, " The deil take 
 them wha hae the least pint stoup." * 
 
 And now the report of a gun was heard, and a sportsman was 
 seen, with his dogs and attendant, at the upper end of the glen. 
 " Shough," said Dugald Mahony, " tat's ta Chief" 
 
 " It is not," said Evan, imperiously. " Do you think he would 
 come to meet a Sassenach Duinhewassel in such a way as that ? " 
 
 But as they approached a little nearer, he said, with an 
 appearance of mortification, "And it is even he, sure enough ; and 
 he has not his tail on after all ; — there is no living creature with 
 him but Galium Beg." 
 
 In fact, Fergus Mac-Ivor, of whom a Frenchman might have 
 said, as truly as of any man in the Highlands, " Qu'il comioit bien 
 ses gens" had no idea of raising himself in the eyes of an English 
 young man of fortune, by appearing with a retinue of idle High- 
 landers disproportioned to the occasion. He was well aware that 
 such an unnecessary attendance would seem to Edward rather 
 ludicrous than respectable ; and while few men were more attached 
 to ideas of chieitainship and feudal power, he was, for that very 
 reason, cautious of exhibiting external marks of dignity, unless at 
 the time and in the manner when they were most likely to produce 
 an imposing effect. Therefore, although, had he been to receive 
 
WAVERLEY. 123 
 
 a brother chieftain, he would probably have been attended by all 
 that retinue which Evan described with so much unction, he 
 judged it more respectable to advance to meet Waverley with a 
 single attendant, a very handsome Highland boy, who carried his 
 master's shooting-pouch and his broadsword, without which he 
 seldom went abroad. 
 
 When Fergus and Waverley met, the latter was struck with the 
 pecuUar grace and dignity of the Chieftain's figure. Above the 
 middle size, and finely proportioned, the Highland dress, which he 
 wore in its simplest mode, set off his person to great advantage. 
 He wore the trews, or close trowsers, made of tartan, chequed 
 scarlet and white ; in other particulars, his dress strictly resembled 
 Evan's, excepting that he had no weapon save a dirk, very richly 
 mounted with silver. His page, as we have said, carried his clay- 
 more ; and the fowling-piece, which he held in his hand, seemed 
 only designed for sport. He had shot in the course of his walk 
 some young wild ducks, as, though close-time was then unknown, 
 the broods of grouse were yet too young for the sportsman. His 
 countenance was decidedly Scottish, with all the peculiarities of 
 the northern physiognomy, but yet had so little of its harshness 
 and e.xaggeration, that it would have been pronounced in any 
 country extremely handsome. The martial air of the bonnet, with 
 a single eagle's feather as a distinction, added much to the manly 
 appearance of his head, which was besides ornamented with a far 
 more natural and graceful cluster of close black curls than ever 
 were exposed to sale in Bond Street. 
 
 An air of openness and affability increased the favourable impres- 
 sion derived from this handsome and dignified exterior. Yet a 
 skilful physiognomist would have been less satisfied with the coun- 
 tenance on the second than on the first view. The eyebrow and 
 upper lip bespoke something of the habit of peremptory command 
 and decisive superiority. Even his courtesy, though open, frank, 
 and unconstrained, seemed to indicate a sense of personal import- 
 ance ; and, upon any check or accidental excitation, a sudden 
 though transient lour of the eye showed a hasty, haughty, and 
 vindictive temper, not less to be dreaded because it seemed much 
 under its owner's command. In short, the countenance of the 
 Chieftain resembled a smiling summer's day, in which, notwith- 
 standing, we are made sensible by certain though slight signs, that 
 it may thunder and lighten before the close of evening. 
 
 It was not, however, upon their first meeting, that Edward had 
 an opportunity of making these less favourable remarks. The Chief 
 received him as a friend of the Baron of Bradwardine, with the 
 utmost expression of kindness, and obligation for the visit ; up- 
 
124 WAVERLEY. 
 
 braided him gently with choosing so rude an abode as he had done 
 the night before ; and entered into a Hvely conversation with him 
 about Donald Bean's housekeeping, but without the least hint as to 
 his predatory habits, or the immediate occasion of Waverley's 
 visit, a topic which, as the Chief did not introduce it, our hero also 
 avoided. While they walked merrily on towards the house of 
 Glennaquoich, Evan, who now fell respectfully into the rear, fol- 
 lowed with Galium Beg and Dugald Mahony. 
 
 We shall take the opportunity to introduce the reader to some 
 particulars of Fergus Mac-Ivor's character and history, which were 
 not completely known to Waverley till after a connexion, which, 
 though arising from a circumstance so casual, had for a length of 
 time the deepest influence upon his character, actions, and prospects. 
 But this, being an important subject, must form the commeneement 
 of a new chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE CHIEF AND HIS MANSION. 
 
 The ingenious licentiate, Francisco de Ubeda, when he com- 
 menced his history of La Picara Justina Diez, — which, by the way, 
 is one of the most rare books of Spanish literature,' — complained of 
 his pen having caught up a hair, and forthwith begins, with more 
 eloquence than common sense, an affectionate expostulation with 
 that useful implement, upbraiding it with being the quill of a goose, 
 — a bird inconstant by nature, as frequenting the three elements of 
 water, earth, and air, indifferently, and being of course, " to one 
 thing constant never." Now I protest to thee, gentle reader, that I 
 entirely dissent from Francisco de Ubeda, in this matter, and hold 
 it the most useful quality of my pen, that it can speedily change 
 from grave to gay, and from description and dialogue to narrative 
 and chax-acter. So that if my quill display no other properties of 
 its mother-goose than her mutability, truly I shall be well pleased ; 
 and I conceive that you, my worthy friend, will have no occasion for 
 discontent. From the jargon, therefore, of the Highland giUies, I 
 pass to the character of their Chief. It is an important examina- 
 tion, and therefore, like Dogberry, we must spare no wisdom. 
 
 The ancestor of Fergus Mac-Ivor, about three centuries before, 
 had set up a claim to be recognised as chief of the numerous and 
 powerful clan to which he belonged, the name of which it is un- 
 necessary to mention. Being defeated by an opponent who had 
 more justice, or at least more force, on his side, he moved south- 
 wards, with those who adhered to him, in quest- of new settlements, 
 
WAVERLEY. 125 
 
 like a second ^neas. The state of the Perthshire Highlands 
 favoured his purpose. A great baron in that country had lately 
 become traitor to the crown ; Ian, which was the name of our ad- 
 venturer, united himself with those who were commissioned by the 
 king to chastise him, and did such good service, that he obtained a 
 grant of the property, upon which he and his posterity afterwards 
 resided. He followed the king also in war to the fertile regions of 
 England, where he employed his leisure hours so actively in raising 
 subsidies among the boors of Northumberland and Durham, that 
 upon .his return he was enabled to erect a stone tower, or fortalice, 
 so much admired by his dependents and neighbours, that he, who 
 had hitherto been called Ian Mac-Ivor, or John the son of Ivor, was 
 thereafter distinguished, both in song and genealogy, by the high 
 title of Ian nan Chaistel, or John of the Tower. The descendants 
 of this worthy were so proud of him, that the reigning chief always 
 bore the patronymic title of Vich Ian Vohr, i.e. the son of John the 
 Great ; while the clan at large, to distinguish them from that from 
 which they had seceded, were denominated Sliochd nan Ivor, the 
 race of Ivor. 
 
 The father of Fergus, the tenth in direct descent from John of 
 the Tower, engaged heart and hand in the insurrection of 1 7 1 5 , and 
 ■was forced to fly to France, after the attempt of that year in favour 
 of the Stuarts had proved unsuccessful. More fortunate than other 
 fugitives, he obtained employment in the French service, and 
 married a lady of rank in that kingdom, by whom he had two 
 children, Fergus and his sister Flora. The Scottish estate had 
 been forfeited and exposed to sale, but was re-purchased for a small 
 price in the name of the young proprietor, who in consequence 
 came to reside upon his native domains.* It was soon perceived 
 that he possessed a character of uncommon acuteness, fire, and 
 ambition, which, as he became acquainted with the state of the 
 country, gradually assumed a mixed and peculiar tone, that could 
 ojily have been acquired Sixty Years since. 
 
 Had Fergus Mac-Ivor lived Sixty Years sooner than he did, he 
 would, in all probability, have wanted the polished manner and 
 knowledge of the world which he now possessed ; and had he lived 
 Sixty Years later, his ambition and love of rule would have lacked 
 the fuel which his situation now afforded. He was indeed, within 
 his little circle, as perfect a politician as Castruccio Castrucani 
 himself. He applied himself with great earnestness to appease all 
 the feuds and dissensions which often arose among other clans in 
 his neighbourhood, so that he became a frequent umpire in their 
 quarrels. His own patriarchal power he strengthened at every 
 expense which his fortune would permit, and indeed stretched his 
 
126 WAVERLEY. 
 
 means to the uttermost, to maintain the rude and plentiful hospi- 
 tality, which was the most valued attribute of a chieftain. For the 
 same reason, he crowded his estate with a tenantry', hardy indeed; 
 and fit for the purposes of war, but greatly outnumbering what the 
 soil was calculated to maintain. These consisted chiefly of his own 
 clan, not one of whom he suffered to quit his lands if he could 
 possibly prevent it. But he maintained, besides, many adventurers 
 from the mother sept, who deserted a less warlike, though more 
 wealthy chief, to do homage to Fergus Mac-Ivor. Other indi- 
 viduals, too, who had not even that apology, were nevertheless re- 
 ceived into his allegiance, which indeed was refused to none who 
 were, like Poins, proper men of their lands, and were willing to 
 assume the name of Mac-Ivor. 
 
 He was enabled to discipline these forces, from having obtained 
 command of one of the independent companies raised by Govern- 
 ment to preserve the peace of the Highlands. While in this 
 capacity he acted with vigour and spirit, and preserved great order 
 in the country under his charge. He caused his vassals to enter by 
 rotation into his company, and serve for a certain space of time, 
 which gave them all in turn a general notion of military discipline. 
 In his campaigns against the banditti, it was observed that he as- 
 sumed and exercised to the utmost the discretionary power, which, 
 while the law had no free course in the Highlands, was conceived 
 to belong to the military parties who were called in to support it. 
 He acted, for example, with great and suspicious lenity to those 
 freebooters who made restitution on his summons, and offered 
 personal submission to himself, while he rigorously pursued, appre- 
 hended, and sacrificed to justice, all such interlopers as dared to 
 despise his admonitions or commands. On the other hand, if any 
 officers of justice, military parties, or others, presumed to pursue 
 thieves or marauders through his territories, and without applying 
 for his consent and concurrence, nothing was more certain than 
 that they would meet with some notable foil or defeat ; upon which 
 occasions Fergus Mac-Ivor was the first to condole with them, and, 
 after gently blaming their rashness, never failed deeply to lament 
 the lawless state of the country. These lamentations did not ex- ■ 
 elude suspicion, and matters were so represented to Government, 
 that our Chieftain was deprived of his military command.* 
 
 Whatever Fergus Mac-Ivor felt on this occasion, he had the art 
 of entirely suppressing every appearance of discontent ; but in a 
 short time the neighbouring country began to feel bad effects from 
 his disgrace. Donald Bean Lean, and others of his class, whose 
 depredations had hitherto been confined to other districts, appeared 
 from thenceforivard to have made a settlement on this devoted 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 127 
 
 border ; and their ravages were carried on with little opposition, as 
 the Lowland gentry were chiefly Jacobites, and disarmed. This 
 forced many of the inhabitants into contracts of black-mail with 
 Fergus Mac-Ivor, which not only established him their protector, 
 and gave him great weight in all their consultations, but, moreover, 
 supplied funds for the waste of his feudal hospitality, which the dis- 
 continuance of his pay might have otherwise essentially diminished. 
 
 In following this course of conduct, Kergus had a further object 
 than merely being the great man of his neighbourhood, and ruling 
 despotically over a small clan. From his infancy upward, he had 
 devoted himself to the cause of the exiled family, and had per- 
 suaded himself, not only that their restoration to the crown of 
 Britain would be speedy, but that those who assisted them would 
 be raised to honour and rank. It was with this view that he 
 laboured to reconcile the Highlanders among themselves, and aug- 
 mented his own force to the utmost, to be prepared for the first 
 favourable opportunity of rising. With this purpose also he con- 
 ciliated the favour of such Lowland gentlemen in the vicinity as 
 were friends to the good cause ; and for the same reason, having 
 incautiously quarrelled with Mr. Bradwardine, who, notwithstand- 
 ing his peculiarities, was much respected in the country, he took 
 advantage of the foray of Donald Bean Lean to solder up the dis- 
 pute in the manner we have mentioned. Some, indeed, surmised 
 that he caused the enterprise to be suggested to Donald, on purpose 
 to pave the way to a reconciliation, which, supposing that to be the 
 case, cost the Laird of Bradwardine two good milch-cows. This 
 zeal in their behalf the House of Stuart repaid with a considerable 
 share of their confidence, an occasional supply of louis d'or, 
 abundance of fair words, and a parchment, with a huge waxen seal 
 appended, purporting to be an Earl's patent, granted by no less a 
 person than James the Third, King of England, and Eighth King 
 of Scotland, to his right feal, trusty, and well-beloved Fergus Mac- 
 Ivor of Glennaquoich, in the county of Perth, and Kingdom of 
 Scotland. 
 
 With this future coronet glittering before his eyes, Fergus 
 plunged deeply into the correspondence and plots of that unhappy 
 period ; and, like all such active agents, easily reconciled his con- 
 science to going certain lengths in the service of his party, from 
 ■which honour and pride would have deteiTcd him, had his sole 
 object been the direct advancement of his own personal interest. 
 With this insight into a bold, ambitious, and ardent, yet artful and 
 politic character, we resume the broken thread of our narrative. 
 
 The Chief and his guest had by this time reached the house of 
 Glennaquoich, which consisted of Ian nan Chaistel's mansion, a 
 
128 WAVERLEY. 
 
 liigli rude-looking square tower, with the addition of a lofted hom-^ 
 that is, a building of two stories, constructed by Fergus's grand- 
 father when he returned from that memorable expedition, well re- 
 membered by the western shires, under the name of the Highland 
 Host. Upon occasion of this crusade against the Ayrshire Whigs 
 and Covenanters, the Vich Ian Vohr of the time had probably been 
 as successful as his predecessor was in harrying Northumberland, 
 and therefore left to his posterity a rival edifice, as a monument of 
 his magnificence. 
 
 Around the house, which stood on an eminence in the midst of a 
 narrow Highland valley, there appeared none of that attention to 
 convenience, far less to ornament and decoration, which usually 
 surrounds a gentleman's habitation. An inclosure or two, divided 
 by dry-stone walls, were the only part of the domain that was 
 fenced ; as to the rest, the narrow slips of level ground which lay 
 by the side of the brook exhibited a scanty crop of bar-ley, liable to 
 constant depredations from the herds of wild ponies and black 
 cattle that grazed upon the adjacent hills. These ever and anon 
 made an incursion upon the arable ground, which was repelled by 
 the loud, uncouth, and dissonant shouts of half a dozen Highland 
 swains, all running as if they had been mad, and every one halloo- 
 ing a half-starved dog to the rescue of the forage. At a httle 
 distance up the glen was a small and stunted wood of birch ; the 
 hills were high and heathy, but without any variety of surface'; so 
 that the whole view was wild and desolate, rather than grand and 
 solitary. Yet, such as it was, no genuine descendant of Ian nan 
 Chaistel would have changed the domain for Stow or Blenheim. 
 
 There was a sight, however, before the gate, which perhaps would 
 have afforded the first owner of Blenheim more pleasure than the 
 finest view in the domain assigned to him by the gratitude of his 
 country. This consisted of about a hundred Highlanders in com- 
 plete dress and arms ; at sight of whom the Chieftain apologised to 
 Waverley in a sort of negligent manner. "He had forgot," he said, 
 " that he had ordered a few of his clan out, for the purpose of seeing 
 that they were in a fit condition to protect the country, and prevent 
 such accidents as, he was sorry to learn, had befallen the Baron 
 of Bradwardine. Before they were dismissed, perhaps Captain 
 Waverley might choose to see them go through a part of their 
 exercise." 
 
 Edward assented, and the men executed with agility and precision 
 some of the ordinary militaiy movements. They then practised 
 individually al a mark, and showed extraordinary dexterity in the 
 managetnent of the pistol and firelock. They took aim, standing, 
 sitting, Isamng, oir lying prostrate, as they were commanded, and 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 129 
 
 always with effect upon the target. Next, they paired off for the 
 broadsword exercise ; and, having manifested their individual skill 
 and dexterity, united in two bodies, and exhibited a sort of mock 
 encounter, in which the charge, the rally, the flight, the pursuit, and 
 all the current of a heady fight, were exhibited to the sound of the 
 great war bagpipe. 
 
 On a signal made by the Chief, the skirmish was ended. Matches 
 were then made for running, wrestling, leaping, pitching the bar, 
 and other sports, in which this feudal militia displayed incredible 
 swiftness, strength, and agility; and accomplished the purpose 
 which their Chieftain had at heart, by impressing on Wavei-ley no 
 light sense of their merit as soldiers, and of the power of him who 
 commanded them by his nod.* 
 
 " And what number of such gallant fellows have the happiness 
 to call you leader ? " asked Waverley. 
 
 " In a good cause, and under a chieftain whom they loved, the 
 race of Ivor have seldom taken the field under five hundred clay- 
 mores. But you are aware. Captain Waverley, that the disarming 
 act, passed about twenty years ago, prevents their being in the com- 
 plete state of preparation as in former times ; and I keep no more 
 of my clan under arms than may defend my own or my friends' 
 property, when the country is troubled with such men as you): last 
 night's landlord ; and Government, which has removed other means 
 of defence, must connive at our protecting ourselves." 
 
 " But, with your force, you might soon destroy, or put down, such 
 gangs as that of Donald Bean-Lean." 
 
 " Yes, doubtless ; and my reward would be a summons to deliver 
 up to General Blakeney, at Stirling, the few broadswords they have 
 left us : there were little policy in that, mcthinks. — But come. 
 Captain, the sound of the pipes informs me that dinner is prepared. 
 ■ — Let me have the honour to show you into my rude mansion." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A HIGHLAND FEAST. 
 
 Erk Waverley entered the banqueting hall, he was offered the 
 patriarchal refreshment of a bath for the feet, which the sultiy 
 weather, and the morasses he had traversed, rendered highly ac- 
 ceptable. He was not, indeed, so luxuriously attended upon this 
 occasion as the heroic travellers in the Odyssey ; the task of ablu- 
 tion and abstersion being performed, not by a beautiful damsel, 
 trained 
 
 To chafe the limb, and pour the fragrant oil, 
 
 I 
 
130 WAVERLEY. 
 
 but by a smoke-dried skinny old Highland woman, who did not seem 
 to think herself much honoured by the duty imposed upon her, but 
 muttered between her teeth, " Our father's herds did not feed so 
 near together, that I should do you this service." A small donation, 
 however, amply reconciled this ancient handmaiden to the supposed 
 degradation ; and, as Edward proceeded to the hall, she gave him 
 her blessing, in the Gaelic proverb, " May the open hand be filled 
 the fullest." 
 
 The hall, in which the feast was prepared, occupied all the first 
 story of Ian nan Chaistel's original erection, and a huge oaken table 
 extended through its whole length. The apparatus for dinner was 
 simple, even to rudeness, and the company numerous, even to 
 crowding. At the head of the table was the Chief himself, with 
 Edward, and two or three Highland visitors of neighbouring clans ; 
 the elders of his own tribe, wadsetters, and tacksmen, as they were 
 called, who occupied portions of his estate as mortgagers or lessees, 
 sat next in rank ; beneath them, their sons and nephews, and foster- 
 brethren ; then the officers of the Chief's household, according to 
 their order ; and, lowest of all, the tenants who actually cultivated 
 the ground. Even beyond this long perspective, Edward might see 
 upon the green, to which a huge pair of folding-doors opened, a 
 multitude of Highlanders of a yet inferior description, who, never- 
 theless, were considered as guests, and had their share both of the 
 countenance of the entertainer, and of the cheer of the day. In 
 the distance, and fluctuating round this extreme verge of the ban- 
 quet, was a changeful group of women, ragged boys and girls, 
 beggars, young and old, large greyhounds, and terriers, and point- 
 ers, and curs of low degree ; all of whom took some interest, more 
 or less immediate, in the main action of the piece. 
 
 This hospitality, apparently unbounded, had yet its line of 
 economy. Some pains had been bestowed in dressing the dishes of 
 fish, game, &c., which were at the upper end of the table, and 
 immediately under the eye of the English stranger. Lower down 
 stood immense clumsy joints of mutton and beef, which, but for 
 the absence of pork,* abhorred in the Highlands, resembled the 
 rude festivity of the banquet of Penelope's suitors. But the central 
 dish was a yearling lamb, called " a hog in har'st," roasted whole. 
 It was set upon its legs, with a bunch of parsley in its mouth, and 
 was probably exhibited in that form to gratify the pride of the 
 cook, who piqued himself more on the plenty than the elegance of 
 his master's table. The sides of this poor animal were fiercely 
 attacked by the clansmen, some with dirks, others with the Icnives , 
 which were usually in the same sheath with the dagger, so that it was 
 soon rendered a mangled and rueful spectacle. Lower down still, the 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 131 
 
 victuals seemed of yet coarser quality, though sufficiently abundant. 
 Broth, onions, cheese, and the fragments of the feast, regaled the 
 sons of Ivor who feasted in the open air. 
 
 The liquor was supplied in the same proportion, and under 
 similar regulations. Excellent claret and champagne were liberally 
 distributed among the Chief's immediate neighbours ; whisky, 
 plain or diluted, and strong beer, refreshed those who sat near 
 the lower end. Nor did this inequality of distribution appear 
 to give the least offence. Every one present understood that his 
 taste was to be formed according to the rank which he held at 
 table ; and, consequently, the tacksmen and their dependents 
 always professed the wine was too cold for their stomachs, and 
 called, apparently out of choice, for the liquor which was assigned 
 to them from economy.* The bagpipers, three in number, screamed, 
 during the whole time of dinner, a tremendous war-tune ; and the 
 echoing of the vaulted roof, and clang of the Celtic tongue, pro- 
 duced such a Babel of noises, that Waverley dreaded his ears would 
 never recover it. Mac-Ivor, indeed, apologized for the confusion 
 occasioned by so large a party, and pleaded the necessity of his 
 situation, on which unlimited hospitality was imposed as a para- 
 mount duty. " These stout idle kinsmen of mine," he said, " ac- 
 count my estate as held in trust for their support ; and I must find 
 them beef and ale, while the rogues will do nothing for themselves 
 but practise the broadsword, or wander about the hills, shooting, 
 fishing, hunting, drinking, and making love to the lasses of the 
 strath. But what can I do. Captain Waverley? everything will 
 keep after its kind whether it be a hawk or a Highlander." Edward 
 made the expected answer, in a compliment upon his possessing so 
 many bold and attached followers. 
 
 " Why, yes," replied the Chief, " were I disposed, like my father, 
 to put myself in the way of getting one blow on the head, or two 
 on the neck, I believe the loons would stand by me. But who 
 thinks of that in the present day, v.ihen the maxim is, — ' Better 
 an old woman with a purse in her hand, than three men with belted 
 brands ?"' Then, turning to the company, he proposed the " Health 
 of Captain Waverley, a worthy fi'iend of his kind neighbour and 
 ally, the Baron of Bradwardine." 
 
 " He is welcome hither," said one of the elders, " if he come 
 from Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine." 
 
 " I say nay to that," said an old man, who apparently did not 
 Aiean to pledge the toast ; " I say nay to that ; — while there is a 
 green leaf in the forest, there will be fraud in a Comyne." 
 
 There is nothing but honour in the Baron of Bradwardine,'' 
 answered another ancient ; " and the guest that comes hither from 
 
 I 2 
 
i32 WAVERLEY. 
 
 him should be welcome, though he came with blood on his hand, 
 unless it were blood of the race of Ivor." 
 
 The old man, whose cup remained full, replied, " There has been 
 blood enough of the race of Ivor on the hand of Bradwardine." 
 
 " Ah ! Ballenkeiroch," replied the first, " you think rather of the 
 flash of the carbine at the Mains of Tully-Veolan, than the glance 
 of the sword that fought for the cause at Preston." 
 
 " And well I may," answered Ballenkeiroch ; " the flash of the 
 gun cost me a fair-haired son, and the glance of the sword has done 
 but little for King James." ' 
 
 The Chieftain, in two words of French, explained to Waverley, 
 that the Baron had shot this old man's son in a fray near Tully- 
 Veolan about seven years before ; and then hastened to remove 
 Ballenkeiroch's prejudice, by informing him that Waverley was an 
 Englishman, unconnected by birth or alliance with the family of 
 Bradwardine ; upon which the old gentleman raised the hitherto- 
 untasted cup, and courteously drank to his health. This ceremony 
 being requited in kind, the Chieftain made a signal for the pipes to 
 cease, and said aloud, "Where is the song hidden, my friends, that 
 Mac-Murrough cannot find it ? " 
 
 Mac-Murrough, the family bhairdh, an aged man, immediately 
 took the hint, and began to chant, with low and rapid utterance, a 
 profusion of Celtic verses, which were received by the audience 
 with all the applause of enthusiasm. As he advanced in his decla- 
 mation, his ardour seemed to increase. He had at first spoken 
 with his eyes fixed on the ground ; he now cast them around as- if 
 beseeching, and anon as if commanding, attention, and his tones 
 rose into wild and impassioned notes, accompanied with appropriate 
 gestures. He seemed to Edward, who attended to him with much 
 interest, to recite many proper names, to lament the dead, to apos- 
 trophise the absent, to exhort, and entreat, and animate those who 
 were present. Waverley thought he even discerned his own name, 
 and was convinced his conjecture was right, from the eyes of the 
 company being at that moment turned towards him simultaneously. 
 The ardour of the poet appeared to communicate itself to the 
 audience. Their wild and sun-burnt countenances assumed a fiercer 
 and more animated expression ; all bent forward towards the reciter, 
 many sprung up and waved their arms in ecstasy, and some laid 
 their hands on their swords. When the song ceased, there was a 
 deep pause, while the aroused feelings of the poet and of the 
 hearers gradually subsided into their usual channel. 
 
 The Chieftain, who during this scene had appeared rather to 
 watch the emotions which were excited, than to partake their high 
 tone of enthusiasm, filled with claret a small silver cup which stood 
 
if 
 
 
 X £ 
 
 
WAVERLEY. 133 
 
 by him. « Give this," he said to an attendant, "to Mac-Murrough 
 nan Fonn {i. e. of the songs), and when he has drank the juice, bid 
 him keep, for the sake of Vich Ian Vohr, the shell of the gourd 
 which contained it." The gift was received by Mac-Murrough with 
 profound gratitude; he drank the wine, and, kissing the cup, 
 shrouded it with reverence in the plaid which was folded on his 
 bosom. He then burst forth into what Edward justly supposed to 
 be an extemporaneous effusion of thanks, and praises of his Chief. 
 It was received with applause, but did not produce the effect of his 
 first poem. It was obvious, however, that the clan regarded the 
 generosity of their Chieftain with high approbation. Many ap- 
 proved Gaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of which the 
 Chieftain gave his guest the following versions : — 
 
 " To him that will not turn his back on friend or foe." " To him 
 that never forsook a comrade." " To him that never bought or 
 sold justice." " Hospitality to the exile, and broken bones to the 
 tyrant." " The lads with the kilts." " Highlanders, shoulder to 
 shoulder," — with many other pithy sentiments of the like nature. 
 
 Edward was particularly solicitous to know the meaning of that 
 song which appeared to produce such effect upon the passions of 
 the company, and hinted his curiosity to his host. " As I observe," 
 said the Chieftain, " that you have passed the bottle during the last 
 three rounds, I was about to propose to you to retire to my sister's 
 tea-table, who can explain these things to you better than I can. 
 Although I cannot stint my clan in the usual current of their 
 festivity, yet I neither am addicted myself to exceed in its amount, 
 nor do I," added he, smiling, " keep a Bear to devour the intellects 
 of such as can make good use of them." 
 
 Edward readily assented to this proposal, and the Chieftain, 
 saying a few words to those around him, left the table, followed by 
 Waverley. As the door closed behind them, Edward heard Vich 
 Ian Vohr's health invoked with a wild and animated cheer, that 
 expressed the satisfaction of the guests, and the depth of their 
 devotion to his service. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE chieftain's SISTER. 
 
 The drawing-room of Flora Mac-Ivor was furnished in the 
 plainest and most simple manner ; for at Glennaquoich every other 
 sort of expenditure was retrenched as much as possible, for the 
 purpose of maintaining, in its full dignity, the hospitality of the 
 Chieftain, and retaining and multiplying the number of his 
 
I3f WAVERLEY. 
 
 dependents and adherents. But there was no appearance of this 
 parsimony in the dress of the lady herself, which was in texture 
 elegant, and even rich, and arranged in a manner which partook 
 partly of the Parisian fashion, and partly of the more simple dress 
 of the Highlands, blended together with great taste. Her hair 
 was not disfigured by the art of the friseur, but fell in jetty ringlets 
 on her neck, confined only by a circlet, richly set with diamonds. 
 This peculiarity she adopted in compliance with the Highland 
 prejudices, which could not endure that a woman's head should be 
 covered before wedlock. 
 
 Flora Mac-Ivor bore a most striking resemblance to her brother 
 Fergus ; so much so, that they might have played Viola and 
 Sebastian with the same exquisite effect produced by the appear- 
 ance of Mrs. Henry Siddons and her brother, Mr. William Murray, 
 in these characters. They had the same antique and regular 
 correctness of profile ; the same dark eyes, eye-lashes, and eye- 
 brows ; the same clearness of complexion, excepting that Fergus's was 
 embrowned by exercise, and Flora's possessed the utmost feminine 
 delicacy. But the haughty, and somewhat stern regularity of 
 Fergus's features, was beautifully, softened in those of Flora. 
 Their voices were also similar in tone, though differing in the key. 
 That of Fergus, especially while issuing ordei'S to his followers 
 during' their military exercise, reminded Edward of a favourite 
 passage in the description of Emetrius : 
 
 whose voice was heard around. 
 
 Loud as a trumpet with a silver sound. 
 
 That of Flora, on the contrary, was soft and sweet, — "an 
 excellent thing in woman ; " yet, in urging any favourite topic, 
 which she often pursued with natural eloquence, it possessed as 
 well the tones which impress awe and conviction, as those of 
 persuasive insinuation. The eager glance of the keen black eye, 
 which in the Chieftain seemed impatient even of the material 
 obstacles it encountered, had, in his sister, acquired a gentle pen- 
 siveness. His looks seemed to seek glory, power, all that could 
 exalt him above others in the race of humanity ; while those of his 
 sister, as if she were already conscious of mental superiority, 
 seemed to pity, rather than envy, those who were struggling for 
 any farther distinction. Her sentiments corresponded with the 
 expression of her countenance. Early education had impressed 
 upon her mind, as well as on that of the Chieftain, the most 
 devoted attachment to the exiled family of Stuart. She believed it 
 the duty of her brother, of his clan, of every man in Britain, at 
 whatever personal hazard, to contribute to that restoration which 
 the partisans of the Chevalier de St. George had not ceased to 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 I3S 
 
 hope for. For this she was prepared to do all, to suffer all, to 
 sacrifice all. But her loyalty, as it exceeded her brother's in 
 fanaticism, excelled it also in purity. Accustomed to petty 
 intrigue, and necessarily involved in a thousand paltry and selfish 
 discussions, ambitious also by nature, his political faith was 
 tinctured, at least, if not tainted, by the .views of interest and 
 advancement so easily combined with it ; and at the moment he 
 should unsheathe his claymore, it might be difficult to say whether 
 it would be most with the view of making James Stuart a king, or 
 Fergus Mac-Ivor an earl. This, indeed, was a mixture of feeling 
 which he did not avow even to himself, but it existed, nevertheless, 
 in a powerful degree. 
 
 In Flora's bosom, on the contrary, the zeal of loyalty burnt pure 
 and unmixed with any selfish feeling ; she would have as soon 
 made religion the mask of ambitious and interested views, as have 
 shrouded them under the opinions which she had been taught to 
 think patriotism. Such instances of devotion were not uncommon 
 among the followers of the unhappy race of Stuart, of which many 
 memorable proofs will recur to the mind of most of my readers. 
 But peculiar attention on the part of the Chevalier de St George 
 and his princess to the parents of Fergus and his sister, and to 
 themselves when orphans, had riveted their faith. Fergus, upon 
 the death of his parents, had been for some time a page of honour 
 in the train of the Chevalier's lady, and, from his beauty and 
 sprightly temper, was uniformly treated by her with the utmost 
 distinction. This was also extended to Flora, who was maintained 
 for some time at a convent of the first order, at the princess's 
 expense, and removed from thence into her own family, where she 
 spent nearly two years. Both brother and sister retained the 
 deepest and most grateful sense of her kindness. 
 
 Having thus touched upon the leading principle of Flora's 
 character, I may dismiss the rest more slightly. She was highly 
 accomplished, and had acquired those elegant manners to be 
 expected from one who, in early youth, had been the companion of 
 a princess ; yet she had not learned to substitute the gloss of 
 politeness for the reality of feeling. When settled in the lonely 
 regions of Glennaquoich, she found that her resources in French, 
 English, and Italian literature, were likely to be few and in- 
 terrupted ; and, in order to fiU up the vacant time, she bestowed a 
 rart of it upon the music and poetical traditions of the High- 
 landers, and began really to feel the pleasure in the pursuit, which 
 her brother, whose perceptions of literary merit were more blunt, 
 rather affected for the sake of popularity than actually experienced. 
 Her resolution was strengthened in these researches, by the extreme 
 
136 WAVERLEY. 
 
 delight which her inquiries seemed to afford those to whom she 
 resorted for information. 
 
 Her love of her clan, an attachment which was almost hereditaiy 
 in her bosom, was, like her loyalty, a more pure passion than that 
 of her brother. He was too thorough a politician, regarded his 
 patriarchal influence too much as the means of accomplishing his 
 own aggrandisement, that we should term him the model of a 
 Highland Chieftain. Flora felt the same anxiety for cherishing and 
 extending their patriarchal sway, but it was with the generous 
 desire of vindicating from poverty, or at least from want and 
 foreign oppression, those whom her brother was by birth, according 
 to the notions of the time and country, entitled to govern. The 
 savings of her income, for she had a smaU pension from the^ 
 Princess Sobieski, were dedicated, not to add to the comforts of the 
 peasantry, for that was a word which they neither knew nor 
 apparently wished to know, but to relieve their absolute necessities, 
 when in sickness or extreme old age. At every other period, they 
 rather toiled to procure something which they might share with the 
 Chief as a proof of their attachment, than expected other assistance 
 from him save what was afforded by the rude hospitality of his 
 castle, and the general division and subdivision of his estate among 
 them. Flora was so much beloved by them, that when Mac- 
 Murrough composed a song, in which he enumerated all the prin- 
 cipal beauties of the district, and intimated her superiority by 
 concluding, that " the fairest apple hung on the highest bough," he 
 received, in donatives from the individuals of the clan, more seed- 
 barley than would have sowed his Highland Parnassus, the Bards 
 croft, as it was called, ten times over. 
 
 From situation, as well as choice. Miss Mac-Ivor's society was 
 extremely limited. Her most intimate friend had been Rose 
 Bradwardine, to whom she was much attached ; and when seen 
 together, they would have afforded an artist two admirable subjects 
 for the gay and the melancholy muse. Indeed Rose was so 
 tenderly watched by her father, and her circle of wishes was so 
 limited, that none arose but what he was willing to gratify, and 
 scarce any which did not come within th'; compass of his power. 
 With Flora it was otherwise. While almost a girl, she had under- 
 gone the most complete change of scene, from gaiety and splendour 
 to absolute solitude and comparative poverty ; and the ideas and 
 wishes which she chiefly fostered, respected great national events, 
 and changes not to be brought round without both hazard and 
 bloodshed, and therefore not to be thought of with levity. Her 
 manner, consequently, was grave, though she readily contributed 
 ber talents to the amusement of society, and stood very high in the 
 
WAVERLEY. 137 
 
 opinion of the old Baron, who used to sing along with her such 
 French duets of Lindor and Cloris, &c., as were in fashion about 
 the end of the reign of old Louis le Grand. 
 
 It was generally believed, though no one durst have hinted it to 
 the Baron of Bradwardine, that Flora's entreaties had no small 
 share in allaying the wrath of Fergus upon occasion of their 
 quarrel. She took her brother on the assailable side, by dwelling 
 first upon the Baron's age, and then representing the injury which 
 the cause might sustain, and the damage which must arise to his 
 own character in point of prudence, so necessary to a political 
 agent, if he persisted in caiTying it to extremity. Otherwise it is 
 probable it would have terminated in a duel, both because the 
 Baron had, on a former occasion, shed blood of the clan, though 
 the matter had been timely accommodated, and on account of his 
 high reputation for address at his weapon,- which Fergus almost 
 condescended to envy. For the same reason she had urged their 
 reconciliation, which the Chieftain the more readily agreed to, as it 
 favoured some ulterior projects of his own. 
 
 To this young lady, now presiding at the female empire of the 
 tea-table, Fergus introduced Captain Waverley, whom she received 
 with the usual forms of politeness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 HIGHLAND MINSTRELSY. 
 
 When the first salutations had passed, Fergus said to his sister, 
 " My dear Flora, before 1 return to the barbarous ritual of our fore- 
 fathers, I must tell 5'ou that Captain Waverley is a worshipper of the 
 Celtic muse, not the less so perhaps that he does not understand a 
 word of her language. I have told him you are eminent as a 
 translator of Highland poetiy, and that Mac-Murrough admires 
 your version of his songs upon the same principle that Captain 
 Waverley admires the original, — because he does not comprehend 
 them. Will you have the goodness to read or recite to our guest in 
 English, the extraordinary string of names which Mac-Murrough 
 has tacked together in Gaelic ?— My life to a moorfowl's feather, 
 you are provided with a version ; for I know you are in all the 
 bard's councils, and acquainted with his songs long before he 
 rehearses them in the hall." 
 
 "How can you say so, Fergus? You ^now how little these 
 verses can possibly interest an EngUsh stranger, even if I could 
 translate them as you pretend." 
 
 " Not less than they interest me, lady fair. To-day your joint 
 
138 WAVERLEY. 
 
 composition, for I insist you had a share in it, has cost me the last 
 silver cup in the castle, and I suppose will cost me something else 
 next time I hold cour pUniere, if the muse descends on INIac- 
 Murrough; for you know our pi'overb, — When the hand of the 
 Chief ceases to bestow, the breath of the bard is frozen in the 
 utterance. — Well, 1 would it were even so : there are three thin£r<> 
 that are useless to a modern Highlander, — a sword which he mu.t 
 not draw, — a bard to sing of deeds which he dare not imitate, — and 
 a large goat-skin purse without a louis-d'or to put into it." 
 
 " Well, brother, since you betray my secrets, you cannot expect 
 me to keep yours. — I assure you. Captain Waverley, that Fergus is 
 too proud to exchange his broadsword for a marechal's baton ; that 
 he esteems Mac-Murrough a far greater poet than Homer, and 
 would not give up his goat-skin purse for all the louis-d'or which it 
 could contain." 
 
 " Well pronounced. Flora ; blow for blow, as Con an* said to the 
 devU. Now do you two talk of bards and poetry, if not of purses 
 and claymores, while I return to do the final honours to the 
 senators of the tribe of Ivor." So saying, he left the room. 
 
 The conversation continued between Flora and Waverley ; for 
 two well-dressed young women, whose character seemed to hover 
 between that of companions and dependents, took no share in it. 
 They were both pretty girls, but served only as foils to the grace 
 and beauty of their patroness. The discourse followed the turn 
 which the Chieftain had given it, and Waverley was equally amused 
 and surprised with the account which the lady gave him of Celtic 
 poetry. 
 
 " The recitation," she said, " of poems, recording the feats 0} 
 heroes, the complaints of lovers, and the wars of contending 
 tribes, forms the chief amusement of a winter fire-side in the High- 
 lands. Some of these are said to be very ancient, and if they are 
 ever translated into any of the languages of civilized Europe, 
 cannot fail to produce a deep and general sensation. Others are 
 more modern, the composition of those family bards whom the 
 chieftains of more distinguished name and power retain as the 
 poets and historians of their tribes. These, of course, possess 
 various degrees of merit ; but much of it must evaporate in trans- 
 lation, or be lost on those who do not sympathize with the feelings 
 of the poet." 
 
 " And your bard, whose effusions seemed to produce such effect 
 upon the company to-day, — is he reckoned among the favourite 
 poets of the mountain?" 
 
 " That is a trying question. His reputation is high among his 
 countrymen, and you must not expect me to depreciate it."* 
 
WAVERLEY. ,39 
 
 "But the song, Miss Mac-Ivor, seemed to awaken all those 
 warriors, both young and old." 
 
 " The song is little more than a catalogue of names of the High- 
 land clans under their distinctive peculiarities, and an exhortation 
 to them to remember and to emulate the actions of their fore- 
 fathers." 
 
 And am I wrong in conjecturing, however extraordinary the 
 guess appears, that there was some allusion to me in the verses 
 which he recited ? " 
 
 "You have a quick observation. Captain Waverley, which in this 
 instance has not deceived you. The Gaelic language, being un- 
 commonly vocalic, is well adapted for sudden and extemporaneous 
 poetry ; and a bard seldom fails to augment the effects of a pre- 
 meditated song, by throwing in any stanzas which may be suggested 
 by the circumstances attending the recitation." 
 
 " I would give my best horse to know what the Highland bard 
 could find to say of such an unworthy Southron as myself." 
 
 " It shall not even cost you a lock of his mane. — Una, 
 Mavourneen J (She spoke a few words to one of the young girls 
 in attendance, who instantly curtsied, and tripped out of the room.) 
 — I have sent Una to learn from the bard the expressions he used, 
 and you shall command my skill as dragoman." 
 
 Una returned in a few minutes, and repeated to her mistress a. 
 few lines in Gaelic. Flora seemed to think for a moment, and then, 
 slightly colouring, she turned to Waverley — " It is impossible to 
 gratify your curiosity. Captain Waverley, without exposing my own 
 presumption. If you will give me a few moments for con- 
 sideration, I will endeavour to engraft the meaning of these lines 
 upon a rude English translation, which 1 have attempted, of a part 
 of the original. The duties of the tea-table seem to be concluded, 
 and, as the evening is delightful, Una will show you the way to one 
 of my favourite haunts, and Cathleen and I will join you there." 
 
 Una, having received instructions in her native language, con- 
 ducted Waverley out by a passage different from that through 
 which he had entered the apartment. At a distance he heard the 
 hall of the chief still resounding with the clang of bagpipes and 
 the high applause of his guests. Having gained the open air by a 
 postern door, they walked a little way up the wild, bleak, and 
 narrow valley in which the house was situated, following the course 
 of the stream that winded through it. In a spot, about a quarter 
 of a mile from the castle, two brooks, which formed the little river, 
 had their junction. The larger of the two came down the long 
 bare valley, which extended, apparently without any change or 
 elevation of character, as far as the hills which formed its boundary 
 
140 WAVERLEY. 
 
 pemiitted the eye to reach. But the other stream, which had its 
 source among the mountains on the left hand of the strath, seemed 
 to issue from a very narrow and dark opening betwixt two large 
 rocks. These streams were different also in character. The larger 
 was placid, and even sullen in its course, wheeling in deep eddies, 
 or sleeping in dark blue pools ; but the motions of the lesser brook 
 were rapid and furious, issuing from between precipices, like 
 a maniac from his confinement, all foam and uproar. 
 
 It was up the course of this last stream that Waverley, like a 
 knight of romance, was conducted by the fair Highland damsel, his 
 silent guide. A small path, which had been rendered easy in many 
 places for Flora's accommodation, led him through scenery of a very 
 different description from that which he had just quitted. Around the 
 castle, all was cold, bare, and desolate, yet tame even in desolation ; 
 but this narrow glen, at so short a distance, seemed to open into 
 the land of romance. The rocks assumed a thousand peculiar and 
 varied forms. In one place, a crag of huge size presented its ' 
 gigantic bulk, as if to forbid the passenger's farther progress ; and 
 it was not until he approached its very base, that Waverley dis- 
 cerned the sudden and acute turn by which the pathway wheeled 
 its course around this formidable obstacle. In another spot, the 
 projecting rocks from the opposite sides of the chasm had approached 
 so near to each other, that two pine-trees laid across, and covered 
 with turf, formed a rustic bridge at the height of at least one hun- 
 dred and fifty feet. It had no ledges, and was barely three feet in 
 breadth. 
 
 While gazing at this pass of peril, which crossed, like a single 
 black line, the small portion of blue sky not intercepted by the pro- 
 jecting rocks on either side, it was with a sensation of horror that 
 Waverley beheld Flora and her attendant appear, like inhabitants of 
 another region, propped, as it were, in mid air, upon this trembling 
 structure. She stopped upon observing him below, and, with an 
 air of graceful ease, which made him shudder, waved her handker- 
 chief to him by way of signal. He was unable, from the sense of 
 dizziness which her situation conveyed, to return the salute ; and 
 was never more relieved than when the fair apparition passed on 
 from the precarious eminence which she seemed to occupy with so 
 much indifference, and disappeared on the other side. 
 
 Advancing a few yards, and passing under the bridge which he 
 had viewed with so much terror, the path ascended rapidly from 
 the edge of the brook, and the glen widened into a silvan amphi- 
 theatre, waving with birch, young oaks, and hazels, with here and 
 there a scattered yew-tree. The rocks now receded, but still 
 showed their grey and shaggy crests rising among the copse-wood. 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 141 
 
 Still higher, rose eminences and peaks, some bare, some clothed 
 with wood, some round and purple with heath, and others splintered 
 into rocks and crags. At a short turning, the path, which had for 
 some furlongs lost sight of the brook, suddenly placed Waverley in 
 front of a romantic waterfall. It was not so remarkable either for 
 great height or quantity of water, as for the beautiful accompani- 
 ments which made the spot interesting. After a broken cataract of 
 about twenty feet, the stream was received in a large natural basin 
 filled to the brim with water, which, where the bubbles of the fall 
 subsided, was so exquisitely clear, that although it was of great 
 depth, the eye could discern each pebble at the bottom. Eddying 
 round this reservoir, the brook found its way over a broken part of 
 the ledge, and formed a second fall, which seemed to seek the very 
 abyss ; then, wheeling out beneath from among the smooth dark 
 rocks, which it had polished for ages, it wandered murmuring down 
 the glen, forming the stream up which Waverley had just ascended.* 
 The borders of this jromantic reservoir corresponded in beauty ; but 
 it was beauty of a stern and commanding cast, as if in the act of 
 expanding mto grandeur. Mossy banks of turf were broken and 
 interrupted by huge fragments of rock, and decorated with trees and 
 shrubs, some of which had been planted under the direction of 
 Flora, but so cautiously, that they added to the grace, without 
 diminishing the romantic wildness of the scene. 
 
 Here, like one of those lovely forms which decorate the land- 
 scapes of Poussin, Waverley found Flora gazing on the waterfall. 
 Two paces further back stood Cathleen, holding a small Scottish 
 harp, the use of which had been taught to Flora by Rory Dall, one 
 of the last harpers of the Western Highlands. The sun, now stoop- 
 ing in the west, gave a rich and varied tinge to all the objects 
 which surrounded Waverley, and seemed to add more than human 
 brilliancy to the full expressive darkness of Flora's eye, exalted the 
 richness and purity of her complexion, and enhanced the dignity 
 and grace of her beautiful form. Edward thought he had never, 
 even in his wildest dreams, imagined a figure of such exquisite and 
 interesting loveliness. The wild beauty of the retreat, bursting 
 upon him as if by magic, augmented the mingled feeling of delight 
 and awe with which he approached her, like a fair enchantress of 
 Boiardo or Ariosto, by whose nod the scenery around seemed to 
 have been created, an Eden in the wilderness. 
 
 Flora, like every beautiful woman, was conscious of her own 
 power, and pleased with its effects, which she could easily discern 
 from the respectful, yet confused address of the young soldier. 
 But, as she possessed excellent sense, she gave the romance of the 
 scene, and other accidental circumstances, full weight in appreci- 
 
142 WAVERLEY. 
 
 ating the feelings with which Waverley seemed obviously to be 
 impressed ; and, unacquainted with the fanciful and susceptible 
 peculiarities of his character, considered his homage as the passing 
 tribute which a woman of even inferior charms might have expected 
 in such a situation. She therefore quietly led the way to a spot at 
 such a distance from the cascade, that its sound should rather 
 accompany than interrupt that of her voice and instrument, and, 
 sitting down upon a mossy fragment of rock, she took the harp 
 from Cathleen. 
 
 " I have given you the trouble of walking to this spot. Captain 
 Waverley, both because I thought the scenery would interest you, 
 and because a Highland song would suffer still more from my imper- 
 fect translation, were I to introduce it without its own wild' and 
 appropriate accompaniments. To speak in the poetical language of 
 my country, the seat of the Celtic Muse is in the mist of the secret 
 and solitary hill, and her voice in the murmur of the mountain 
 stream. He who wooes her must love the barren rock more than 
 the fertile valley, and the solitude of the desert better than the 
 festivity of the hall." 
 
 Few could have heard this lovely woman make this declaration, 
 with a voice where harmony was exalted by pathos, without 
 exclaiming that the muse whom she invoked could never find a 
 more appropriate representative. But Waverley, though the thought 
 rushed on his mind, found no courage to utter it. Indeed, the wild 
 feeling of romantic delight with which he heard the few first notes 
 she drew from her instrument, amounted almost to a sense of pain. 
 He would not for worlds have quitted his place by her side ; yet he 
 almost longed for solitude, that he might decipher and examine at 
 leisure the complication of emotions which now agitated his bosom. 
 
 Flora had exchanged the measured and monotonous recitative, of 
 the bard for a lofty and uncommon Highland air, which had been 
 a battle-song in former ages. A few irregular strains introduced a 
 prelude of a wild and peculiar tone, which harmonized well with 
 the distant waterfall, and the soft sigh of the evening breeze in the 
 rustling leaves of an aspen which overhung the seat of the fair 
 harpress. The following verses convey but little idea of the feel- 
 ings with which, so sung and accompanied, they were heard by 
 Waverley : — 
 
 There is mist on the mountain, and night on the vale, 
 But more dark is the sleep of the sons of the Gael. 
 A stranger commanded— it sunk on the land. 
 It has frozen each heart, and benumb'd every hand. 
 
WAVERLEY. ,4^ 
 
 The dirk and the target lie sordid with dust, 
 The bloodless'claymore is but redden'd with rust ; 
 On the hill or the glen if a gun should appear, 
 It is only to war with the heath-cock or deer. 
 
 The deeds of our sires if our bards should rehearse, 
 Let a blush or a blow be the meed of their verse ! 
 Be mute every string, and be liush'd every tone. 
 That shall bid us remember the fame that is flown 1 
 
 But the dark hours of night and of slumber are past, 
 The morn on our mountains is dawning at last ; 
 Glenaladale's peaks are illumed with the rays, 
 And the streams of Glenfinnan* leap bright in the blaz.;. 
 
 O high-minded Moray!*— the exiled — the dear! — 
 In the blush of the dawning the STANDARD uprear ! 
 Wide, wide on the winds of the north let it fly. 
 Like the sun's latest flash when the tempest is nigh ! 
 
 Ye sons of the strong, when that dawning shall break, 
 Need the harp of the aged remind you to wake ? 
 That dawn never beam'd on your forefather's eye, 
 But it roused each high chieftain to vanquish or die. 
 
 O ! sprung from the Kings who in Islay kept state. 
 Proud chiefs of Clan Ranald, Glengarry, and Sleat ! 
 Combine like three streams from one mountain of snow, 
 And resistless in union rush down on the foe ! 
 
 True son of Sir Evan, undaunted Lochiel, 
 Place thy targe on thy shoulder and burnish thy steel I 
 Rough Keppoch, give breath to thy bugle's bold swell, 
 Till far Coryarrick resound to the knell ! 
 
 Stem son of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kintail, 
 Let the stag in thy standard bound wild in the gale ! 
 May the race of Clan Gillean, the fearless and free. 
 Remember Glenlivat, Harlaw, and Dundee ! 
 
 Let the clan of grey Fingon, whose offspring has given 
 Such heroes to earth, and such martyrs to heaven, 
 Unite with the race of renown'd Rorri More, 
 To launch the long galley, and stretch to the oar. 
 
 How Mac-Shimei will joy when their chief shall display 
 The ewe-crested bonnet o'er tresses of grey ! 
 How the race of wrong'd Alpine and murder'd Glencoe 
 Shall shout for revenge when they pour on the foe ! 
 
T44 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Ye sons of brown Dermid, who slew the wild boar, 
 Resume the pure faith of the great Callum-More 1 
 Mac-Neil of the Islands, and Moy of the lake, 
 For honour, for freedom, for vengeance awake ! 
 
 Here a large greyhound, bounding up the glen, jumped upon 
 Flora, and interrupted her music by his importunate caresses. At 
 a distant whistle, he turned, and shot down the path again with the 
 rapidity of an arrow. " That is Fergus's faithful attendant, Captain 
 Waverley, and that was his signal. He likes no poetiy but what is 
 humorous, and comes in good time to interrupt mj' long-catalogue 
 of the tribes, whom one of your saucy English poets calls 
 
 Our bootless host of high-born beggars, 
 Mac-Leans, Mac-Kenzies, and Mac-Gregors." 
 
 Waverley expressed his regret at the interruption. 
 
 " O you cannot guess how much you have lost ! The bard, as in 
 duty bound, has addressed three long stanzas to Vich Ian Vohr of 
 the Banners, enumerating all his great properties, and not forgetting 
 his being a cheerer of the harper and bard — ' a giver of bounteous 
 gifts.' Besides, you should have heard a practical admonition to 
 the fair-haired son of the stranger, who lives in the land where the 
 grass is always green, — the rider on the shining pampered steed, 
 whose hue is like the raven, and whose neigh is like the scream of 
 the eagle for battle. This valiant horseman is affectionately con- 
 jured to remember that his ancestors were distinguished by their 
 loyalty, as well as by their courage. — All this you have lost ; but, 
 since your curiosity is not satisfied, I judge, from the distant sound 
 of my brother's whistle, I may have time to sing the concluding 
 stanzas before he comes to laugh at my translation." 
 
 Awake on your hills, on your islands awake, 
 Brave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the lake ! 
 'Tis the bugle — but not for the chase is the call ; 
 'Tis the pibroch's shrill summons — but not to the hall. 
 
 'Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death. 
 When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath : 
 They call to the dirk, the claymore, and the targe. 
 To the march and the muster, the line and the charge. 
 
 Be the brand of each Chieftain like Fin's in his ire ! 
 May the blood through his veins flow like currents of fire ! 
 Burst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of yore, 
 Or die like your sires, and endure it no more ! 
 
WAVERLEY. 145 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 WAVERLEY CONTINUES AT GLENNAQUOICH. 
 
 As Flora concluded her song, Fergus stood before them. " I 
 knew I should find you here, even without the assistance of my 
 friend Bran. A simple and unsublimed taste now, like my own, 
 would prefer a jet d'eau at Versailles to this cascade with all its 
 accompaniments of rock and roar ; but this is Flora's Parnassus, 
 Captain Waverley, and that fountain her Helicon. It would be 
 greatly for the benefit of my cellar if she could teach her coadjutor, 
 Mac-Murrough, the value of its influence : he has just drunk a pint 
 of usquebaugh to correct, he said, the coldness of the claret — Let me 
 try. its virtues." He sipped a little water in the hoUow of his hand, 
 and immediately commenced, with a theatrical air, — 
 
 " O Lady of the desert, hail ! 
 That lovest the harping of the Gael, 
 Through fair and fertile regions borne, 
 Where never yet grew grass or corn. 
 
 But English poetry will never succeed under the influence of a 
 Highland Helicon — Allans, courage — 
 
 O vous, qui buvez, k tasse pleine, 
 A cette heureuse fontaine, 
 Ou on ne voit, sur le rivage. 
 
 Que quelques vilains troupeaux, 
 Suivis de nymphes de village. 
 
 Qui les escortent sans sabots '' 
 
 "A truce, dear Fergus ! spare us those most tedious and insipid 
 persons of all Arcadia. Do not, for Heaven's sake, bring down 
 Coridon and Lindor upon us." 
 
 " Nay, if you cannot relish la houlette et la chalitineau, have 
 with you in heroic strains." 
 
 " Dear Fergus, you have certainly partaken of the inspiration of 
 Mac-Murrough's cup, rather than of mine." 
 
 " I disclaim it, ma belle demoiselle, although I protest it would be 
 the more congenial of the two. Which of your cracked-brained 
 Italian romancers is it that says, 
 
 lo d'Elicona niente 
 Mi euro, in fe de Dio, che'l bore d'acque 
 (Bea chi ber ne vuol) sempre me spiacque ! * 
 
 But if you prefer the Gaelic, Captain Waverley, here is httle Cath- 
 
 K 
 
J46 WAVERLEY. 
 
 leen shall sing you Drimmindhu. Come, Cathlesn, astore {i. e. my 
 dear), begin ; no apologies'to the Cean-kinnL" 
 
 Cathleen sung with much liveliness a little Gaelic song, the bur- 
 lesque elegy of a countryman on the loss of his cow, the comic 
 tones of which, though he did not understand the language, made 
 Waverley laugh more than once.* 
 
 ■' Admirable Cathleen ! " cried the Chieftain ; " I must find you a 
 handsome husband among the clansmen one of these days." 
 
 Cathleen laughed, blushed, and sheltered herself behind her com- 
 panion. 
 
 In the progress of their return to the castle, the Chieftain warmly 
 pressed Waverley to remain for a week or two, in order to see a 
 grand hunting party in which he and some other Highland gentle- 
 men proposed to join. The charms of melody and beauty were too 
 strongly impressed in Edward's breast to permit his declining an 
 invitation so pleasing. It was agreed, therefore, that he should 
 write a note to the Baron of Bradwardine, expressing his intention 
 to stay a fortnight at Glennaquoich, and requesting him to forward " 
 by the bearer (a gilly of the Chieftain's) any letters which might 
 have arrived for him. 
 
 This turned the discourse upon the Baron, whom Fergus highly 
 extolled as a gentleman and soldier. His character was touched 
 with yet more discrimination by Flora, who observed that he was 
 the very model of the old Scottish cavalier, with all his excellencies 
 and peculiarities. " It is a character. Captain Waverley, -which is 
 fast disappearing ; for its best point was a self-respect, which was 
 never lost sight of till now. But, in the present time, the gentlemen 
 whose principles do not permit them to pay court to the existing 
 government, are neglected and degraded, and many conduct them- 
 selves accordingly ; and, like some of the persons you have, seen at 
 TuUy-Veolan, adopt habits and companions inconsistent with their 
 birth and breeding. The ruthless proscription of party seems to 
 degrade the victims whom it brands, however unjustly. But let us 
 hope that a brighter day is approaching, when a Scottish country- 
 gentleman may be a scholar without the pedantry of our friend the 
 Baron, a sportsman without the low habits of Mr. Falconer, and a 
 judicious improver of his property without becoming a boorish two- 
 legged steer like Killancureit." 
 
 Thus did Flora prophesy a revolution, which time indeed has 
 produced, but in a manner very different from what she had in her 
 mind. / 
 
 The amiable Rose was next mentioned, with the warm est encomium 
 on her person, manners, and mind. " That man," said Flora, "will 
 find an inestimable treasure in the affections of Rose Bradwardine, 
 
WAVERLEY. 147 
 
 who shall be so fortunate as to become their object. Her very soul 
 is in home, and in the discharge of all those quiet virtues of which 
 home is the centre. Her husband will be to her what her father 
 now is, the object of all her care, solicitude, and affection. She will 
 see nothing, and connect herself with nothing, but by him and 
 through him. If he is a man of sense and virtue, she will sympa- 
 thize in his son-ows, divert his fatigue, and share his pleasures. If 
 she becomes the property of a churlish or negligent husband, she 
 wiU suit his taste also, for she will not long survive his unkindness. 
 And, alas ! how great is the chance that some such unworthy lot 
 may be that of my poor friend ! — O that I were a queen this 
 moment, and could command the most amiable and worthy youth 
 of my kingdom to accept happiness with the hand of Rose Brad- 
 wardine." 
 
 " I wish you would command her to accept mine en attendant" 
 said Fergus, laughing. 
 
 I don't know by what caprice it was that this wish, however jocu- 
 larly expressed, rather jarred on Edward's feelings, notwithstanding 
 his growing inclination to Flora, and his indifference to Miss Brad- 
 wardine. This is one of the inexplicabilities of human nature, 
 which we leave without comment. 
 
 " Yours, brother ?" answered Flora, regarding him steadily. " No ; 
 you have another bride — Honour ; and the dangers you must run 
 in pursuit of her rival would break poor Rose's heart." 
 
 With this discourse they reached the castle, and Waverley soon 
 prepared his despatches for Tully-Veolan. As he knew the Baron 
 was punctilious in such matters, he was about to impress his billet 
 with a seal on which his armorial bearings were engraved, but he 
 did not find it at his watch, and thought he must have left it at 
 Tully-Veolan. He mentioned his loss, borrowing at the same time 
 the family seal of the Chieftain. 
 
 " Surely," said Miss Mac-Ivor, " Donald Bean Lean would 
 not" ■ 
 
 " My life for him, in such circumstances," answered her brother ; 
 — " besides he would never have left the watch behind." 
 
 " After all, Fergus," said Flora, " and with every allowance, I am 
 surprised you can countenance that man." 
 
 " I countenance him ? — This kind sister of mine would persuade 
 you. Captain Waverley, that I take what the people of old used to 
 call ' a steakraid,' that is, a ' coKop of the foray,' or, in plainer 
 words, a portion of the robber's booty, paid by him to the Laird, or 
 Chief, through whose grounds he drove his prey. O, it is certain, 
 that unless I can find some way to charm Flora's tongue. General 
 Blakeney will send a sergeant's party from Stirling (this he said 
 
 K 2 
 
148 WAVER LEY. 
 
 with haughty and emphatic irony) to seize Vich Ian Vohi-, as they 
 niclcname me, in his own castle." 
 
 " Now, Fergus, most not our guest be sensible that all this is 
 folly and affectation ? You have men enough to serve you without 
 enlisting a banditti, and your own honour is above taint — ^Why 
 don't you send this Donald Bean Lean, whom I hate for his smooth- 
 ness and duplicity, even more than for his rapine, out of your 
 country at once ? No cause should induce me to tolerate such a 
 character." 
 
 "No cause. Flora?" said the Chieftain, significantly. 
 
 " No cause, Fergus !~ not even that which is nearest to my heart. 
 Spare it the omen of such evil supporters ! " 
 
 " O but, sister," rejoined the chief, gaily, " you don't consider my 
 respect for la belle passion. Evan Dhu Maccombich is in love with 
 Donald's daughter, Alice, and you cannot expect me to distui'b him 
 in his amours. Why, the whole clan would cry shame on me. 
 You know it is one of their wise sayings, that a kinsman is part of 
 a man's body, but a foster-brother is a piece of his heart." 
 
 " Well, Fergus, there is no disputing with you, but I would all 
 this may end well." 
 
 " Devoutly prayed, my dear and prophetic sister, and the best 
 way in the world to close a dubious argument. — But hear ye not the 
 pipes, Captain Waverley ? Perhaps you will like better to dance to 
 them in the hall, than to be deafened with their harmony without 
 taking part in the exercise they invite us to." 
 
 Waverley took Flora's hand. The dance, song, and merry- 
 making proceeded, and closed the day's entertainment at the castle 
 of Vich Ian Vohr. Edward at length retired, his mind agitated by 
 a variety of new and conflicting feelings, which detained him from 
 rest for some time, in that not unpleasing state of mind in which 
 fancy takes the helm, and the soul rather drifts passively along with 
 the rapid and confused tide of reflections, than exerts itself to 
 encounter, systematize, or examine them. At a late hour he fell 
 asleep, and dreamed of Flora Mac-Ivor. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A STAG-HUNT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 Shall this be a long or a short chapter ? — This is a question in 
 which you, gentle reader, have no vote, however much you may be 
 interested in the consequences ; just as you may (like myself) pro- 
 bably have nothing to do with the imposing a new tax, excepting 
 the trifling circumstance of being obliged to pay it. More happy 
 
WAVERLEY. 149 
 
 surely in the present case, since, though it lies within my arbitrary 
 power to extend my materials as I think proper, I cannot call you 
 into Exchequer if you do not think proper to read my narrative. 
 Let me therefore consider. It is true, that the annals and docu- 
 ments in my hands say but little of this Highland chase ; but then I 
 can find copious materials for description elsewhere. There is old 
 Lindsay of Pitscottie ready at my elbow, with his Athole hunting, 
 and his " lofted and joisted palace of green timber ;" with all kind 
 of drink to be had in burgh and land, as ale, beer, wine, muscadel, 
 malvaise, hippocras, and aquavits ; with wheat-bread, main-bread, 
 ginge-bread, beef, mutton, lamb, veal, venison, goose, grice, capon, 
 coney, crane, swan, partridge, plover, duck, drake, brissel-cock, 
 pawnies, black-cock, muir-fowl, and capercailzies ; " not forgetting 
 the " costly bedding, vaiselle, and napry," and least of all the 
 " excelling stewards, cunning baxters, excellent cooks, and pot- 
 tingars, with confections and drugs for the desserts." Besides the 
 particulars which may be thence gleaned for this Highland feast 
 (the splendour of which induced the Pope's legate to dissent from 
 an opinion which he had hitherto held, that Scotland, namely, 
 was the — the — the latter end of the world) — besides these, might 
 I not illuminate my pages with Taylor the Water Poet's hunting in 
 the braes of Mar, where, / 
 
 " Through heather, mosse, 'mong frogs, and bogs, and fogs, 
 'Mongst craggy cliffs and thunder-batter'd hills. 
 
 Hares, hinds, bucks, roes, are chased by men and dogs,. 
 Where two hours' hunting fourscore fat deer kills. 
 
 Lowland, your sports are low as is your seat ; 
 
 The Highland games and minds ai'e high and great." 
 
 But without further tyranny over my readers, or display of the 
 extent of my own reading, I shall content myself with borrowing a 
 single incident from the memorable hunting at Lude, commemo- 
 rated in the ingenious Mr. Gunn's Essay on the Caledonian Harp, 
 and so proceed in my story with all the brevity that my natural 
 style of composition, partaking of what scholars call the peri- 
 phrastic and ambagitory, and the vulgar the circumbendibus, will 
 permit me. 
 
 The solemn hunting was delayed, from various causes, for about 
 three weeks. The interval was spent by Waverley with great 
 satisfaction at Glennaquoich ; for the impression which Flora had 
 made on his mind at their first meeting grew daily stronger. She 
 was precisely the character to fascinate a youth of romantic imagi- 
 nation. Her manners, her language, her talents for poetry and 
 music, gave additional and varied influence to her eminent per- 
 sonal charms. Even in her hours of gaiety, she was in his fancy 
 
.fo WAVERLEY. 
 
 exalted above the ordinary daughters of Eve, and seemed only to 
 stoop for an instant to those topics of amusement and gallantry 
 which others appear to live for. In the neighbourhood of this 
 enchantress, while sport consumed the morning, and music and 
 the dance led on the hours of evening, Waverley became daily 
 more delighted with his hospitable landlord, and more enamoured 
 of his bewitching sister. 
 
 At length, the period fixed for the grand hunting arrived, and 
 Waverley and the Chieftain departed for the place of rendezvous, 
 which was a day's journey to the northward of Glennaquoich. 
 Fergus was attended on this occasion by about three hundred 
 of his clan , well armed, and accoutred in their best fashion. 
 Waverley complied so far with the custom of the country as to 
 adopt the trews (he could not be reconciled to the Wit), brogues, 
 and bonnet, as the fittest dress for the exercise in which he was to 
 be engaged, and which least exposed him to be stared at as a 
 stranger when they should reach the place of rendezvous. They 
 found, on the spot appointed, several powerful Chiefs, to all of 
 whom Waverley was formally presented, and by all cordially re- 
 ceived. Their vassals and clansmen, a part of whose feudal duty 
 it was to attend on these parties, appeared in such numbers as 
 amounted to a small army. These active assistants spread through 
 the country far and near, forming a circle, technically called the 
 iinchd, which, gradually closing, drove the deer in herds together 
 towards the glen where the Chiefs and principal sportsmen lay in 
 wait for them. In the meanwhile, these distinguished personages 
 bivouacked among the flowery heath, wrapped up in their plaids ; 
 a mode of passing a summer's night which Waverley found by no 
 means unpleasant. 
 
 For many hours after sun-rise, the mountain ridges and passes 
 retained their ordinary appearance of silence and solitude, and the 
 Chiefs, with their followers, amused themselves with various pas- 
 times, in which the joys of the shell, as Ossian has it, were not 
 forgotten. " Others apart sate on a hill retired ; " probably as 
 deeply engaged in the discussion of politics and news, as Milton's 
 spirits in metaphysical disquisition. At length signals of the 
 approach of the game were descried and heard. Distant shouts 
 resounded from valley to valley, as the various parties of High- 
 landers, climbing rocks, struggling through copses, wading brooks, 
 and traversing thickets, approached more and more near to each 
 other, and compelled the astonished deer, with the other wild 
 animals that fled before them, into a narrower circuit. Every now 
 and then the report of muskets was heard, repeated by a thousand 
 echoes. The baying of the dogs was soon added to the chorus, 
 
WAVERLEY. 151 
 
 which grew ever louder and more loud. At length the advanced 
 parties of the deer began to show themselves ; and as the stragglers 
 came bounding down the pass by two or three at a time, the 
 Chiefs showed their skill by distinguishing the fattest deer, and 
 their dexterity in bringing them down with their guns. Fergus 
 exhibited remarkable address, and Edward was also so fortunate 
 as to attract the notice and applause of the sportsmen. 
 
 But now the main body of the deer appeared at the head of the 
 glen, compelled into a very narrow compass, and presenting such a 
 formidable phalanx, that their antlers appeared at a distance, over 
 the ridge of the steep pass, like a leafless grove. Their number 
 was very great, and from a desperate stand which they made, with 
 the tallest of the red-deer stags arranged in front, in a sort of battle 
 S-^'a-Yj gazing on the group which barred their passage down the 
 glen, the more experienced sportsmen began to augur danger. The 
 work of destruction, however, now commenced on all sides. Dogs 
 and hunters were at work, and muskets and fusees resounded from 
 every quarter. The deer, driven to desperation, made at length a 
 fearful charge right upon the spot where the more distinguished 
 sportsmen had taken their stand. The word was given in Gaelic 
 to fling themselves upon their faces ; but Waverley, on whose 
 Enghsh ears the signal was lost, had almost fallen a sacrifice to 
 his ignorance of the ancient language in which it was communi- 
 cated. Fergus, observing his danger, sprung up and pulled him 
 with violence to the ground, just as the whole herd broke down 
 upon them. The tide being absolutely irresistible, and wounds 
 from a stag's horn highly dangerous,* the activity of the Chieftain 
 may be considered, on this occasion, as having saved his guest's 
 life. He detained him with a firm grasp until the whole herd of 
 deer had fairly run over them. Waverley then attempted to rise, 
 but found that he had suffered several very severe contusions, and, 
 upon a further examination, discovered that he had sprained his 
 ankle violently. 
 
 This checked the mirth of the meeting, although the High- 
 landers, accustomed to such incidents, and prepared for them, had 
 suffered no harm themselves. A wigwam was erected almost in an 
 instant, where Edward was deposited on a couch of heather. The 
 surgeon, or he who assumed the office, appeared to unite the 
 characters of a leech and a conjuror. He was an old smoke-dried 
 Highlander, wearing a venerable grey beard, and having for his 
 sole garment a tartan frock, the skirts of v/hich descended to the 
 knee, and, being undivided in front, made the vestment serve at 
 once for doublet and breeches.* He observed great ceremony in 
 approaching Edward i and though our hero was writhing with 
 
152 WAVERLEY. 
 
 pain, would not proceed to any operation which might assuage it 
 until he had perambulated his couch three times, moving from east 
 to west, according to the course of the sun. This, which was called 
 making the deasil,* both the leech and the assistants seemed to 
 consider as a matter of the last importance to the accomplishment 
 of a cure ; and Waverley, whom pain rendered incapable of ex- 
 postulation, and who indeed saw no chance of its being attended 
 to, submitted in silence. 
 
 After this ceremony was duly performed, the old Esculapius let 
 his patient blood with a cupping-glass with great dexterity, and 
 proceeded, muttering all the while to himself in Gaelic, to boil on 
 the fire certain herbs, with which he compounded an embrocation. 
 He then fomented the parts which had sustained injury, never 
 failing to murmur prayers or spells, which of the two Waverley 
 could not distinguish, as his ear only caught the words Gasper- 
 Melchior-Balthazar-max-prax-fax, and similar gibberish. The 
 fomentation had a speedy effect in alleviating the pain and swell- 
 ing, which our hero imputed to the virtue of the herbs, or the effect 
 of the chafing, but which was by the bystanders unanimously 
 ascribed to the spells with which the operation had been accom- 
 panied. Edward was given to understand, that not one of the 
 ingredients had been gathered except during the full moon, and 
 that the herbalist had, while collecting them, uniformly recited a 
 charm, which in English ran thus : — 
 
 Hail to thee, thou holy herb, 
 That sprung on holy ground ! 
 AU in the Mount Olivet 
 First wert thou found : 
 Thou art boot for many a bruise, 
 And heal est many a wound ; 
 In our Lad/s blessed name, 
 I take thee from the ground. * 
 
 Edward observed, with some surprise, that even Fergus, not- 
 withstanding his knowledge and education, seemed to fall in with 
 the superstitious ideas of his countrymen, either because he deemed 
 it impolitic to affect scepticism on a matter of general belief, or 
 more probably becaus"., like most men who do not think deeply 
 or accurately on such subjects, he had in his mind a reserve of 
 superstition which balanced the freedom of his expressions and 
 practice upon other occasions. Waverley made no commentary, 
 therefore, on the manner of the treatment, but rewarded the pro- 
 fessor of medicine with a liberality beyond the utmost conception 
 of his wildest hopes. He uttered, on the occasion, so many inco- 
 herent blessings in Gaelic and English, that Mac-Ivor, rather scan- 
 
WAVERLEY. 153 
 
 dalised at the excess of his acknowledgments, cut them short, by 
 exclaiming, " Ceud mile mhalloich ortj" i. e., " A hundred thou- 
 sand curses on you ! " and so pushed the helper of men out of the 
 cabin. 
 
 After Waverley was left alone, the exhaustion of pain and 
 fatigue, — for the whole day's exercise had been severe, — threw him 
 into a profound, but yet a feverish sleep, which he chiefly owed to 
 an opiate draught administered by the old Highlander from some 
 decoction of herbs in his pharmacopeia. 
 
 Early the next morning, the purpose of their meeting being over, 
 and their sports damped by the untoward accident, in which 
 Fergus and all his friends expressed the greatest sympathy, it 
 became a question how to dispose of the disabled sportsman. 
 This was settled by Mac-Ivor, who had a litter prepared, of " birch 
 and hazel grey," * which was borne by his people with such 
 caution and dexterity as renders it not improbable that they may 
 have been the ancestors of some of those sturdy Gael, who have 
 now the happiness to transport the belles of Edinburgh, in their 
 sedan chairs, to ten routs in one evening. When Edward was, 
 elevated upon their shoulders, he could not help being gratified 
 with the romantic effect produced by the breaking-up of this silvan 
 camp.* 
 
 The various tribes assembled, each at the pibroch of their native 
 clan, and each headed by their patriarchal ruler. Some, who had 
 already begun to retire, were seen winding up the hills, or de- 
 scending the passes which led to the scene of action, the sound of 
 their bagpipes dying upon the ear. Others made still a moving 
 picture upon the narrow plain, forming various changeful groups, 
 their feathers and loose plaids waving in the morning breeze, and 
 their arms glittering in the rising sun. Most of the chiefs came to 
 take farewell of Waverley, and to express their anxious hope they 
 might again, and speedily, meet ; but the care of Fergus abridged 
 the ceremony of taking leave. At length, his own men being 
 completely assembled and mustered, Mac-Ivor commenced his 
 march, but not towards the quarter from which they had come. 
 He gave Edward to understand, that the greater part of his 
 followers, now on the field, were bound on a distant expedition, 
 and that when he had deposited him in the house of a gentleman, 
 who he was sure would pay him every attention, he himself should 
 be under the necessity of accompanying them the greater part of 
 the way, but would lose no time in rejoining his friend. 
 
 Waverley was rather surprised that Fergus had not mentioned 
 his ulterior destination when they set out upon the hunting-party ; 
 but his situation did not admit of many interrogatories. The greater 
 
154 WAVERLEY. 
 
 part of the clansmen went forward under the guidance of old 
 Ballenkeiroch, and Evan Dhu Maccombich, apparently in high 
 ' spirits. A few remained for the purpose of escorting the Chief- 
 tain, who walked by the side of Edwai-d's litter, and attended him 
 with the most affectionate assiduity. About noon, after a journey 
 which the nature of the conveyance, the pain of his bruises, and 
 the roughness of the way, rendered inexpressibly painful, Waverley 
 was hospitably received into the house of a gentleman related to 
 Fergus, who had prepared for him every accommodation which the 
 simple habits of living, then universal in the Highlands, put in his 
 power. In this person, an old man about seventy, Edward ad^ 
 mired a relic of primitive simplicity. He wore no dress but what 
 his estate afforded ; the cloth was the fleece of his own sheep, 
 woven by his own servants, and stained into tartan by the dyes 
 produced from the herbs and lichens of the hills around him. His 
 linen was spun by his daughters and maid-servants, ft'om his own 
 flax, nor did his table, though plentiful, and varied with game and 
 fish, offer an article but what was of native produce. 
 
 Claiming himself no rights of clanship or vassalage, he was for- 
 tunate in the alliance and protection of Vich Ian Vohr, and other 
 bold and enterprising chieftains, who protected him in the quiet 
 unambitious life he loved. It is true, the youth born on his 
 grounds were often enticed to leave him for the service of his more 
 active friends ; but a few old servants and tenants used to shake 
 their grey locks when they heard their master censured for want of 
 spirit, and observed, " When the wind is still, the shower falls soft." 
 This good old man, whose charity and hospitality were unbounded, 
 would have received Waverley with kindness, had he been the 
 meanest Saxon peasant, since his situation required assistance. 
 But his attention to a friend and guest of Vich Ian Vohr was 
 anxious and unremitted. Other embrocations were applied to the 
 injured limb, and new spells were put in practice. At length, after 
 more solicitude than was perhaps for the advantage of his health, 
 Fergus took farewell of Edward for a few days, when, he said, he 
 would return to Tomanrait, and hoped by that time Waverley 
 would be able to ride one of the Highland ponies of his landlord, 
 and in that manner return to Glennaquoich. 
 
 The next day, when his good old host appeared, Edward learned 
 that his friend had departed with the dawn, leaving none of his 
 followers except Galium Beg, the sort of foot-page who used to 
 attend his person, and who had it now in charge to wait upon 
 Waverley. On asking his host, if he knew where the chieftain 
 was gone? the old man looked fixedly at him, with something 
 mysterious and sad in the smile which was his only reply. 
 
WAVERLEY. 155 
 
 Waverley repeated Lis question, to which his host answered in 
 a proverb,—^ 
 
 " What sent the messengers to hell, 
 Was asking what they knew full well" * 
 
 He was about to proceed, but Galium Beg said, rather pertly, as 
 Edward thought, that " Ta Tighearnach (z>. the Chief) did not 
 like ta Sassenagh Duinhd-wassel to be pingled with mickle speak- 
 ing, as she was na tat weel." From this Waverley concluded he 
 should disoblige his friend by inquiring of a stranger the object of 
 a journey which he himself had not communicated. 
 
 It is unnecessary to trace the progress of our hero's recovery. 
 The sixth morning had arrived, and he was able to walk about 
 with a staff, when Fergus returned with about a score of his men. 
 He seemed in the highest spirits, congratulated Waverley on his 
 progress towards recovery, and iinding he was able to sit on horse- 
 back, proposed their immediate return to Glennaquoich. Waverley 
 joyfully acceded, for the form of its fair mistress had lived in his 
 dreams during all the time of his confinement. 
 
 Now he has ridden o'er moor and moss. 
 O'er hill and many a glen, 
 
 Fergus, all the while, with his myrmidons, striding stoutly by his 
 side, or diverging to get a shot at a roe or a heath-cock. Waveriey's 
 bosom beat thick when they approached the old tower of Ian nach 
 Chaistel, and could distinguish the fair form of its mistress 
 advancing to meet them. 
 
 Fergus began immediately, with his usual high spirits, to ex- 
 claim, " Open your gates, incomparable princess, to the wounded 
 Moor Abindarez, whom Rodrigo de Narvaez, constable of Anti- 
 quera, conveys to your castle ; or open them, if you like it better, 
 to the renowned Marquis of Mantua, the sad attendant of his half- 
 slain friend, Baldovinos of the mountain. — Ah, long rest to thy 
 soul, Cervantes ! without quoting thy remnants, how should I 
 frame my language to befit romantic ears ! " 
 
 Flora now advanced, and welcoming Waverley with much kind- 
 ness, expressed her regret for his accident, of which she had 
 already heard the particulars, and her surprise that her brother 
 should not have taken better care to put a stranger on his guard 
 against the perils of the sport in which he engaged him. Edward 
 easily exculpated the Chieftain, who, indeed, at his own personal 
 risk, had probably saved his life. 
 
 This greeting over, Fergus said three or four words to his sister 
 in Gaelic. The tears instantly sprung to her eyes, but they seemed 
 
ISS WAVERLEY. 
 
 to be tears of devotion and joy, for she looked up to heaven, and 
 folded her hands as in a solemn expression of prayer or gratitude. 
 After the pause of a minute, she presented to Edward some letters 
 which had been forwarded from Tally- Veolan during his absence, 
 and, at the same time, delivered some to her brother. To the 
 latter she likewise gave three or four numbers of the Caledonian 
 Mercury, the only newspaper which was then published to the 
 north of the Tweed. 
 
 Both gentlemen retired to examine their despatches, and Edward 
 speedily found that those which he had received contained matters 
 of very deep interest. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 NEWS FROM ENGLAND. 
 
 The letters which Waverley had hitherto received from his 
 relations in England, were not such as required any particular 
 notice in this narrative. His father usually wrote to him with the 
 pompous affectation of one who was too much oppressed by public 
 affairs to find leisure to attend to those of his own family. Now 
 and then he mentioned persons of rank in Scotland to whom he 
 wished his son should pay some attention ; but Waverley, hitherto 
 occupied by the amusements which he had found at TuUy- Veolan 
 and Glennaquoich, dispensed with paying any attention to hints 
 so coldly thrown out, especially as distance, shortness of leave of 
 absence, and so forth, furnished a ready apology. But latterly the 
 burden of Mr. Richard Waverley's paternal epistles consisted in 
 certain mysterious hints of greatness and influence which he was 
 speedily to attain, and which would ensure his son's obtaining the 
 most rapid promotion, should he remain in the military sei-vice. 
 Sir Everard's letters were of a different tenor. They were short; 
 for the good Baronet was none of your illimitable correspondents, 
 whose manuscript overflows the folds of their large post paper, 
 and leaves no room for the seal ; but they were kind and affec- 
 tionate, and seldom concluded without some allusion to our hero's 
 stud, some question about the state of his purse, and a special 
 inquiry after such of his recruits as had preceded him from 
 Waverley-Honour. Aunt Rachel charged him to remember his 
 principles of religion, to take care of his health, to beware of 
 Scotch mists, which, she had heard, would wet an Englishman 
 through and through ; never to go out at night without his great- 
 coat ; and, above all, to wear flannel next to his skin. 
 
 Mr. Pembroke only wrote to our hero one letter, but it was of 
 
WAVERLEY. ' j^^ 
 
 the bulk of SIX epistles of these degenerate days, containing in the 
 moderate compass of ten folio pages, closely written, a prec'is of a 
 supplementary quarto manuscript of addenda, delcnda, et corri- 
 ?enda, in reference to the two tracts with which he had presented 
 Wa,verley. This he considered as a mere sop in the pan to stay 
 the appetite of Edward's curiosity, until he should find an oppor- 
 tunity of sending down the volume itself, which was much too 
 heavy for the post, and which he proposed to accompany with 
 certain interesting pamphlets, lately published by his friend in 
 Little Britain, with whom he had kept up a sort of literaiy corre- 
 spondence, in virtue of which the library shelves of Waveriey- 
 Honour were loaded with much trash, and a good round bill, 
 seldom summed in fewer than three figures, was yearly trans- 
 mitted, in which Sir Everard Waverley, of Waverley-Honour, 
 Bart., was marked Dr. to Jonathan Grubbet, bookseller and 
 stationer. Little Britain. Such had hitherto been the style of the 
 letters which Edward had received from England ; but the packet 
 delivered to him at Glennaquoich -vyas of a different and more 
 interesting complexion. It would be impossible for the reader, 
 even were I to insert the letters at full length, to comprehend the 
 real cause of their being written, without a glance into the interior 
 of the British Cabinet at the period in question. 
 
 The Ministers of the day happened (no very singular event) to 
 be divided into two parties ; the weakest of which, making up by 
 assiduity of intrigue their inferiority in real consequence, had of 
 late acquired some new proselytes, and ,with them the hope of 
 superseding their rivals in the favour of their sovereign, and over- 
 powering them in the House of Commons. Amongst others, they 
 had thought it worth while to practise upon Richard Waverley. 
 This honest gentleman, by a grave mysterious demeanour, an 
 attention to the etiquette of business, rather more than to its 
 essence, a facility in making long dull speeches, consisting of 
 truisms and common-places, hashed up with a technical jargon of 
 office, which prevented the inanity of his orations from being dis- 
 covered, had acquired a certain name and credit in public life, 
 and even established, with many, the character of a profound 
 politician ; none of your shining orators, indeed, whose talents 
 evaporate in tropes of rhetoric and flashes of wit, but one possessed 
 of steady parts for business, which would wear weU, as the ladies 
 say in choosing their silks, and ought in all reason to be good for 
 common and every-day use, since they were confessedly formed of 
 no holiday texture. 
 
 This faith had become so general, that the insurgent party in 
 the Cabinet of which we have made mention, after sounding Mr. 
 
is8 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Richard Waverley, were so satisfied with his sentiments and 
 abilities, as to propose, that, in case of a certain revolution in the 
 ministry, lie should take an ostensible place in the new order of 
 things, not indeed of the very first rank, but greatly higher, in 
 point both of emolument and influence, than that which he pow 
 enjoyed. There was no resisting so tempting a proposal, notwith- 
 standing that the Great Man, under whose patronage he had 
 enlisted, and by whose banner he had hitherto stood firm, was the 
 principal object of the proposed attack by the new allies. Un- 
 fortunately this fair scheme of ambition was blighted in the very 
 bud, by a premature movement. All the official gentlemen con- 
 cerned in it, who hesitated to take the part of a voluntary resigna- 
 tion, were informed that the king had no farther occasion for their 
 services; and, in Richard Waverley's case, which the Minister 
 considered as aggravated by ingratitude, dismissal was accom- 
 panied by something like personal contempt and contumely. The 
 public, and even the party of whom he shared the fall, sympathised 
 little in the disappointment of this selfish and interested states- 
 man ; and he retired to the country under the comfortable reflec- 
 tion, that he had lost, at the same time, character, credit, and, — 
 what he at least equally deplored, emolument. 
 
 Richard "Waverley's letter to his son upon this occasion was a 
 masterpiece of its kind. Aristides himself could not have made 
 out a harder case. An unjust monarch, and an ungrateful country, 
 were the burden of each rounded paragraph. He spoke of long 
 services, and unrequited sacrifices ; though the former had been 
 overpaid by his salary, and nobody could guess in what the latter 
 consisted, unless it were in his deserting, not from conviction, but 
 for the lucre of gain, the Tory principles of his family. In the 
 conclusion, his resentment was wrought to such an excess by the 
 force of his own oratory, that he could not repress some threats of 
 vengeance, however vague and impotent, and finally acquainted' 
 his son with his pleasure that he should testify his sense of the 
 ill-treatment he had sustained, by throwing up his commission, as 
 soon as the letter reached him. This, he said, was also his uncle's 
 •^esire, as he would himself intimate in due course. 
 
 Accordingly, the next letter which Edward opened was from 
 Sir Everard. His brother's disgrace seemed to have removed from 
 his well-natured bosom all recollection of their differences, and, 
 remote as he was from every means of learning that Richard's 
 disgrace was in reality only the just, as well as natural conse- 
 quence, of his own unsuccessful intrigues, the good, but credulous 
 Baronet at once set it down as a new and enormous instance of 
 the injustice of the existing Government. It was true, he said 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 IS? 
 
 and he must not disguise it even from Edwaid, that his father 
 could not have sustained such an insult as was now, for the first 
 time, offered to one of his house, unless he had subjected himself 
 to it by accepting of an employment under the present system. 
 Sir Everard had no doubt that he now both saw and felt the 
 magnitude of this en'or, and it should be his (Sir Everard's) 
 business, to take care that the cause of his regret should not 
 extend itself to pecuniary consequences. It was enough for a 
 Waverley to have sustained the public disgrace ; the patrimonial 
 injury could easily be obviated by the head of their family. But it 
 was both the opinion of Mr. Richard Waverley and his own, that 
 Edward, the representative of the family of Waverley-Honour, 
 should not remain in a situation which subjected him also to such 
 treatment as that with which his father had been stigmatized. He 
 requested his nephew therefore to take the fittest, and, at the same 
 time, the most speedy opportunity of transmitting his resignation 
 to the War-Office, and hinted, moreover, that little ceremony was 
 necessary where so little had been used to his father. He sent 
 multitudinous greetings to the Baron of Bradwardine. 
 
 A letter from Aunt Rachel spoke out even more plainly. She 
 considered the disgrace of brother Richard as the just reward of 
 his forfeiting his allegiance to a lawful, though exiled sovereign, 
 and taking the oaths to an alien ; a concession which her grand- 
 father, Sir Nigel Waverley, refused to make, either to the Round- 
 head Parliament or to Cromwell, when his life and fortune stood 
 in the utmost extremity. She hoped her dear Edward would follow 
 the footsteps of his ancestors, and as speedily as possible get rid 
 of the badge of servitude to the usurping family, and regard the 
 ■wrongs sustained by his father as an admonition from Heaven, 
 that every desertion of the line of loyalty becomes its own punish- 
 ment She also concluded with her respects to Mr. Bradwardine, 
 and begged Waverley would inform her whether his daughter, 
 Miss Rose, was old enough to wear a pair of very handsome ear- 
 rings which she proposed to send as a token of her affection. 
 ' The good lady also desired to be informed whether Mr. Brad- 
 wardine took as much Scotch snuff, and danced as unwearily, as he 
 did when he was at Waverley-Honour about thirty years ago. 
 
 These letters, as might have been expected, highly excited 
 Waverle/s indignation. From the desultory style of his studies, 
 he had not any fixed political opinion to place in opposition to the 
 movements of indignation which he felt at his father's supposed 
 wrongs. Of the real cause of his disgrace, Edward was totally 
 ignorant; nor had his habits at all led him to investigate the 
 politics of the period in which he lived, or remark the intrigues in 
 
i6o WAVERLEY. 
 
 which his father had been so actively engaged. Indeed, any im- 
 pressions which he had accidentally adopted concerning the parties 
 of the times, were (owing to the society in which he had lived at 
 Waverley-Honour) of a nature rather unfavourable to the existing 
 government and dynasty. He entered, therefore, without hesita- 
 tion, into the resentful feeling of the relations who had the best 
 title to dictate his conduct; and not perhaps the less willingly, 
 when he remembered the tedium of his quarters, and the inferior 
 iigure which he had made among the officers of his regiment. If 
 he could have had any doubt upon the subject, it would have been 
 decided by the following letter from his commanding-officer, which, 
 as it is very short, shall be inserted verbatim : — 
 
 "Sir, . 
 
 " Having carried somewhat beyond the line of my duty, an 
 indulgence which even the lights of nature, and much more those 
 of Christianity, direct towards errors which may arise from youth 
 and inexperience, and that altogether without effect, I am reluctantly 
 compelled, at the present crisis, to use the only remaining remedy 
 which is in my power. You are, therefore, hereby commanded to 
 
 repair to , the head-quarters of the regiment, within three days 
 
 after the date of this letter. If you shall fail to do so, I must report 
 you to the War-Office as absent without leave, and also take other 
 steps, which will be disagreeable to you, as well as to, Sir, 
 " Your obedient Servant, 
 
 "J. Gardiner, Lieut.-Col., 
 " Commanding the Regt. Dragoons." 
 
 Edward's blood boiled within him as he read this letter. He 
 had been accustomed from his very infancy to possess, in a great 
 measure, the disposal of his own time, and thus acquired habits 
 which rendered the rules of military disciphne as unpleasing to 
 him in this as they were in some other respects. An idea that in 
 his own case they would not be enforced in a very rigid manner, 
 had also obtained full possession of his mind, and had hitherto 
 been sanctioned by the indulgent conduct of his lieutenant-colonel. 
 Neither had anything occurred, to his knowledge, that should 
 have induced his commanding-officer, without any other warning 
 than the hints we noticed at the end of the fourteenth chapter, so 
 suddenly to assume a harsh, and, as Edward deemed it, so insolent . 
 a tone of dictatorial authority. Connecting it with the letters he 
 had just received from his family, he could not but suppose that 
 it was designed to make him feel, in his present situation, the 
 same pressure of authority which had been exercised in his father's 
 
WAVERLEY. i6i 
 
 case, and that the whole was a concerted §nheme to depress and 
 degrade every member of the Waverley family. 
 
 Without a pause, therefore, Edward wrote a few cold hnes, 
 thanking his lieutenant-colonel for past civilities, and expressing 
 regret that he should have chosen to efface the remembrance of 
 them, by assuming a different tone towards him. The strain of 
 his letter, as well as what he (Edward) conceived to be his duty, 
 in the present crisis, called upon him to lay down his commis- 
 sion ; and he therefore inclosed the formal resignation of a situa- 
 tion which subjected him to so unpleasant a correspondence, and 
 requested Colonel Gardiner would have the goodness to forward it 
 to the proper authorities. 
 
 Having finished this magnanimous epistle, he felt somewhat un- 
 certain concerning the terms in which his resignation ought to be 
 expressed, upon which subject he resolved to consult Fergus Mac- 
 Ivor. It may be observed in passing, that the bold and prompt 
 habits of thinking, acting, and speaking, which distinguished this 
 young Chieftain, had given him a considerable ascendency over 
 the mind of Waverley. Endowed with at least equal powers of 
 understanding, and with much finer genius, Edward yet stooped to 
 the bold and decisive activity of an intellect which was sharpened 
 by the habit of acting on a preconceived and regular system, as 
 well as by extensive knowledge of the world. 
 
 When Edward found his friend, the latter had still in his hand 
 the newspaper which he had perused, and advanced to meet him 
 with the embarrassment of one who has unpleasing news to com- 
 municate. " Do your letters. Captain Waverley, confirm the un- 
 pleasing information which I find in this paper ? " 
 
 He put the paper into his hand, where his father's disgrace was 
 registered in the most bitter terms, transferred probably from some 
 London journal. At the end of the paragraph was this remarkable 
 innuendo : — 
 
 " We understand that ' this same Richard who hath done all this,' 
 is not the only example of the Wavering Honour oi^-N-x\-y H-n-r. 
 See the Gazette of this day." 
 
 With hurried and feverish apprehension our hero turned to the 
 place referred to, and found therein recorded, " Edward Waverley, 
 
 captain in regiment dragoons, superseded for absence without 
 
 leave ;" and in the list of mihtary promotions, referring to the same 
 regiment, he discovered this farther article, " Lieut. Juhus Butler, 
 to be captain, vice Edward Waverley, superseded." 
 
 Our hero's bosom glowed with the resentment which undeserved 
 -md apparently premeditated insult was calculated to excite in the 
 bosom of one who had aspired after honour, and was thus wantonly 
 
i62 WAVERLEY. 
 
 held up to public scorn and disgrace. Upon comparing the date 
 of his colonel's letter with that of the article in the Gazette, he 
 perceived that his threat of making a report upon his absence had 
 been literally fulfilled, and without inquiry, as it seemed, whether 
 Edward had either received his summons, or was disposed to com- 
 ply with it. The whole, therefore, appeared a formed plan to 
 degrade him in the eyes of the public ; and the idea of its having 
 succeeded filled him with such bitter emotions, that, after various 
 attempts to conceal them, he at length threw himself into Mac- 
 Ivor's arms, and gave vent to tears of shame and indignation. 
 
 It was none of this Chieftain's faults to be indifferent to the 
 wrongs of his friends ; and for Edward, independent of certain 
 plans with which he was connected, he felt a deep and sincere 
 interest. The proceeding appeared as extraordinary to him as it 
 had done to Edward. He indeed knew of more motives than 
 Waverley was privy to, for the peremptory order that he should 
 join his regiment. But that, without farther inquiry into the cir- 
 cumstances of a necessary delay, the commanding officer, in contra- 
 diction to his known and established character, should have 
 proceeded in so harsh and unusual a manner, was a mystery which 
 he could not penetrate. He soothed our hero, however, to the 
 best of his power, and began to turn his thoughts on revenge for 
 his insulted honour. 
 
 Edward eagerly grasped at the idea. " WiU you carry a message 
 for me to Colonel Gardiner, my dear Fergus, and oblige me 
 for ever?" 
 
 Fergus paused. " It is an act of friendship which you should 
 command, could it be useful, or lead to the righting your honour ; 
 but in the present case, I doubt if your commanding-officer would 
 give you the meeting on account of his having taken measures, 
 which, however harsh and exasperating, were still within the strict 
 bounds of his duty. Besides, Gardiner is a precise Huguenot, and 
 has adopted certain ideas about the sinfulness of such rencontres, 
 from which it would be impossible to make him depart, especially 
 as his courage is beyond all suspicion. And besides, I — I — to say 
 the truth — I dare not at this moment, for some very weighty 
 reasons, go near any of the military quarters or garrisons belong- 
 ing to this government." 
 
 " And am I," said Waverley, " to sit down quiet and contented 
 under the injury I have received ? " 
 
 " That will I never advise my friend," replied Mac-Ivor. " But 
 I would have vengeance to fall on the head, not on the hand ; on 
 the tyrannical and oppressive Government which designed and 
 directed these premeditated and reiterated insults, not on the 
 
WAVERLEY. 163 
 
 tools of office which they employed in the execution of the injuries 
 they aimed at you." 
 
 "On the Government ! " said Waverley. 
 
 "Yes," repHed the impetuous Highlander, "on the usurping 
 House of Hanover, whom your grandfather would no more have 
 served than he would have taken wages of red-hot gold from the 
 great fiend of hell ! " 
 
 " But since the time of my grandfather, two generations of this 
 dynasty have possessed the throne," said Edward, coolly. 
 
 " True," replied the Chieftain ; " and because we have passively 
 ^ven them so long the means of showing their native character, — 
 because both you and I myself have lived in quiet submission, 
 have even truckled to the times so far as to accept commissions 
 imder them, and thus have given them an opportunity of dis- 
 ^-acing us publicly by resuming them, are we not on that account 
 to resent injuries which our fathers only apprehended, but which 
 we have actually sustained ? Or is the cause of the unfortunate 
 Stuart family become less just, because their title has devolved 
 upon an heir who is innocent of the charges of misgovernment 
 brought against his father? — Do you remember the lines of your 
 favourite poet ? — 
 
 Had Richard unconstrained resign'd the throne, 
 A king can give no more than is his own ; 
 The title stood entail'd had Richard had a son. 
 
 You see, my dear Waverley, I can quote poetry as well as Flora 
 and you. But come, clear your moody brow, and trust to me to 
 show you an honourable road to a speedy and glorious revenge. 
 Let us seek Flora, who perhaps has more news to tell us of what 
 has occurred during oiu- absence. She will rejoice to hear that 
 you are relieved of your servitude. But first add a postscript to 
 your letter, marking the time when you received this calvinistical 
 Colonel's first summons, and express your regret that the hastiness 
 of his proceedings prevented your anticipating them by sending 
 your resignation. Then let him blush for his injustice." 
 
 The letter was sealed accordingly, covering a formal resignation 
 of the commission, and Mac-Ivor' dispatched it with some letters 
 of his own by a special messenger, with charge to put them into 
 the nearest post-office in the Lowlands. 
 
i64 WAVERLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AN ECLAIRCISSEMENT. 
 
 The hint which the Chieftain had thrown out respecting Flora 
 was not unpremeditated. He had observed with great satisfaction 
 the growing attachment of Waverley to his sister, nor did he see 
 any bar to their union, excepting the situation which Waverley's 
 father held in the ministry, and Edward's own commission in the 
 army of George II. These obstacles were now removed, and in a 
 manner which apparently paved the way for the son's becoming 
 reconciled to another allegiance. In every other respect the match 
 would be most eligible. , The safety, happiness, and honourable 
 provision of his sister, whom he dearly loved, appeared to be 
 ensured by the proposed union ; and his heart swelled when he 
 considered how his own interest would be exalted in the eyes of the 
 ex-monarch to whom he had dedicated his service, by an alliance 
 with one of those ancient, powerful, and wealthy English families 
 of the steady cavalier faith, to awaken whose decayed attachment 
 to the Stuart family was now a matter of such vital importance to 
 the Stuart cause. Nor could Fergus perceive any obstacle to such 
 a scheme. Waverley's attachment was evident ; and as his person 
 was handsome, and his taste apparently coincided with her own, 
 he anticipated no opposition on the part of Flora. Indeed, between 
 his ideas of patriarchal power, and those which he had acquired in 
 France respecting the disposal of females in marriage, any oppo- 
 sition from his sister, dear as she was to him, would have been the 
 last obstacle on which he would have calculated, even had the 
 union been less eligible. 
 
 Influenced by these feelings, the Chief now led Waverley in 
 quest of Miss Mac-Ivor, not without the hope that the present 
 agitation of his guest's spirits might give him courage to cut short 
 what Fergus termed the romance of the courtship. They found 
 Flora, with her faithful attendants, Una and Cathleen, busied in 
 preparing what appeared to Waverley to be white bridal favours. 
 Disguising as well as he could the agitation of his mind, Waverley 
 asked for what joyful occasion Miss Mac-Ivor made such ample 
 preparation. 
 
 " It is for Fergus's bridal," she said, smiling. 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Edward ; " he has kept his secret well. I hope 
 he will allow me to be his bridesman." 
 
 " That is a man's office, but not yours, as Beatrice says,'' retorted 
 Flora. 
 
WAVERLEY. 165 
 
 " And who is the fair lady, may I be permitted to ask, Miss 
 Mac-Ivor ?" 
 
 " Did not I tell you long since, that Fergus wooed no bride but 
 Honour ?" answered Flora. 
 
 " And am I then incapable of being his assistant and counsellor 
 in the pursuit of honour?" said our hero, colouring deeply. "Do 
 I rank so low in your opinion .'' " 
 
 " Far from it, Captain Waverley. I would to God you were of 
 our determination ! and made use of the expression which dis- 
 pleased you, solely 
 
 Because you are not of our quality, 
 But stand against us as an enemy." 
 
 " That time is past, sister,'' said Fergus ; " and you may wish 
 Edward Waverley (no longer captain) joy of being freed from 
 the slavery to an usurper implied in that sable and ill-omened 
 emblem." 
 
 " Yes," said Waverley, undoing the cockade from his hat, " it 
 has pleased the king who bestowed this badge upon me, to resume 
 it in a manner which leaves me little reason to regret his service." 
 
 " Thank God for that ! " cried the enthusiast ; — " and O that 
 they may be blind enough to treat every man of honour who serves 
 them with the same indignity, that I may have less to sigh for 
 when the struggle approaches ! " 
 
 " And now, sister," said the Chieftain, " replace his cockade with 
 one of a niore lively colour. I think it was the fashion of the 
 ladies of yore to arm and send forth their knights to high 
 achievement." 
 
 " Not," replied the lady, " till the knight adventurer had well 
 weighed the justice and the danger of the cause, Fergus. Mr. 
 Waverley is just now too much agitated by feelings of recent 
 emotion, for me to press upon him a resolution of consequence." 
 
 Waverley felt half alarmed at the thought of adopting the badge 
 of what v/as by the majority of the kingdom esteemed rebellion, 
 yet he could not disguise his chagrin at the coldness with which 
 Flora parried her brother's hint. " Miss Mac-Ivor, I perceive, 
 thinks the knight unworthy of her encouragement and favour," 
 said he, somewhat bitterly. ^ 
 
 " Not so, Mr. Waverley," she replied, with great sweetness. 
 " Why should I refuse my brother's valued friend a boon which I 
 am distributing to his whole clan ? Most willingly would I enlist 
 every man of honour in the cause to which my brother has devoted 
 himself. But Fergus has taken his measures with his eyes open. 
 His life has been devoted to this cause from his cradle ; with him 
 
1 66 WAVERLEY. 
 
 its call is sacred, were it even a summons to the tomb. But how 
 can I wish you, Mr. Waverley, so new to the world, so far from 
 every friend who might advise and ought to influence you, — in a 
 moment too of sudden pique and indignation, — how can I wish 
 you to plunge yourself at once into so desperate an enterprise ? " 
 
 Fergus, who did not understand these delicacies, strode through 
 the apartment biting his lip, and then, with a constrained smile, 
 said, " Well, sister, I leave you to act your new character of iriedia- 
 tor between the Elector of Hanover and the subjects of your lawful 
 sovereign and benefactor," and left the room. 
 
 There was a painful pause, which was at length broken by Miss 
 Mac-Ivor. " My brother is unjust," she said, " because he can 
 bear no interruption that seems to thwart his loyal zeal." 
 
 "And do you not share his ardour ?" asked Waverley. 
 
 "Do I not?" answered Flora — " God knows mine exceeds his, if 
 that be possible. But I am not, like him, rapt by the bustle of military 
 preparation, and the infinite detail necessary to the present under- 
 taking, beyond consideration of the gx-and principles of justice and 
 truth, on which our enterprise is grounded ; and these, I am certain, 
 can only be furthered by measures in themselves true and just. To 
 operate upon your present feelings, my dear Mr. Waverle)', to 
 induce you to an irretrievable step, of which you have not con- 
 sidered either the justice or the danger, is, in my poor judgment^ 
 neither the one nor the other." 
 
 " Incomparable Flora ! " said Edward, taking her hand, " how 
 much do I need such a monitor ! " 
 
 "A better one by far," said Flora, gently withdrawing her hand, 
 " Mr. Waverley will always find in his own bosom, when he will 
 give its small still voice leisure to be heard." 
 
 " No, Miss Mac-Ivor, I dare not hope it ; a thousand circum- 
 stances of fatal self-indulgence have made me the creature rather 
 of imagination than reason. Durst I but hope —could I but think 
 —that you would deign to be to me that affectionate, that conde- 
 scending friend, who would strengthen me to redeem my errors,, 
 my future life " 
 
 " Hush, my dear sir ! now you cai-ry your joy at escaping the 
 hands of a Jacobite recruiting officer to an unparalleled excess of 
 gratitude." 
 
 " Nay, dear Flora, trifle with me no longer ; you cannot mistake 
 the meaning of those feelings which I have almost involuntarily 
 expressed ; and since I have broken the barrier of silence, let me 
 profit by my audacity — Or may I, with your permission, mention 
 to your brother " 
 
 " Not for the world, Mr. Waverley ! " 
 
WAVERLEY. 167 
 
 " What am I to understand ?" said Edward. " Is there any fatal 
 bar — has any prepossession " 
 
 "None, sir," answered Flora. "I owe it to myself to say, that 
 I never yet saw the person on whom I thought with reference to 
 the present subject." 
 
 " The shortness of our acquaintance, perhaps — If Miss Mac-Ivor 
 will deign to give me time " 
 
 " I have not even that excuse. Captain Waverley's character is 
 so open — is, in short, of that nature, that it cannot be misconstrued, 
 either in its strength or its weakness." 
 
 "And for that weakness you despise me?" said Edward. 
 
 " Forgive me, Mr. Waverley — and remember it is but within this 
 half hour that there existed between us a barrier of a nature to me 
 insurmountable, since I never could think of an officer in the ser- 
 vice of the Elector of Hanover in any other light than as a casual 
 acquaintance. Permit me then to arrange my ideas upon so unex- 
 pected a topic, and in less than an hour I will be ready to give you 
 such reasons for the resolution I shall express, as may be satis- 
 factory at least, if not pleasing to you." So saying. Flora withdrew, 
 leaving Waverley to meditate upon the manner in which she had 
 received his addresses. 
 
 Ere he could make up his mind whether to believe his suit had 
 been acceptable or no, Fergus re-entered the apartment. " What, 
 a la mart, Waverley .? " he cried. " Come down with me to the 
 court, and you shall see a sight worth all the tirades of your 
 romances. An hundred firelocks, my friend, and as many broad- 
 swords, just arrived from good friends ; and two or three hundred 
 stout fellows almost fighting which shall first possess them. — But 
 let me look at you closer — Why, a true Highlander would say you 
 had been blighted by an evil eye. — Or can it be this silly girl that 
 has thus blanked your spirit ? — Never mind her, dear Edward ; 
 the wisest of her sex are fools in what regards the business of life." 
 
 " Indeed, my good friend," answered Waverley, " all that I 
 can charge against your sister is, that she is too sensible, too 
 reasonable." 
 
 " If that be all, I ensure you for a louis-d'or against the mood 
 lasting four-and-twenty hours. No woman was ever steadily sen- 
 sible for that period ; and I will engage, if that will please you. 
 Flora shall be as unreasonable to-morrow as any of her sex. You' 
 must learn, my dear Edward, to consider women en mousquetaire." 
 .So saying, he seized Waverley's arm, and dragged him off to review 
 his military preparations. 
 
,68 WAVERLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 UPON THE SAME SUBJECT. 
 
 Fergus Mac-Ivor had too much tact and delicacy to renew the 
 subject which he had interrupted. His head was, or appeared to 
 be, so full of guns, broadswords, bonnets, canteens, and tartan hose, 
 that Waverley could not for some time draw his attention to any 
 other topic. 
 
 " Are you to take the field so soon, Fergus," he asked, " that you 
 are making all these martial preparations ? " 
 
 " When we have settled that you go with me, you shall know all; 
 but otherwise, the knowledge might rather be prejudicial to you." 
 
 " But are you serious in your purpose, with such inferior forces, 
 to rise against an established government ? It is mere frenzy." 
 
 " Laissez faire ct. Don Antoine — I shall take good care of myself. 
 We shall at least use the compliment of Conan, who never got a 
 stroke but he gave one. I would not, -however," continued the 
 Chieftain, " have you think me mad enough to stir tiU a favourable 
 opportunity : I will not slip my dog before the game's afoot. But, 
 once more, will you join with us, and you shall know all ? " 
 
 " How can I .■' " said Waverley; " I who have so lately held that 
 commission which is now posting back to those that gave it ? My 
 accepting it implied a promise of fidelity, and an acknowledgment 
 of the legality of the government." 
 
 "A rash promise," answered Fergus, "is not a steel handcuff; it 
 may be shaken off, especially when it was given under deception, 
 and has been repaid by insult. But if you cannot immediately make 
 up your mind to a glorious revenge, go to England, and ere you 
 cross the Tweed, you will hear tidings that will make the world 
 ring ; and if Sir Everard be the gallant old cavalier I have heard 
 him described by some of our honest gentlemen of the year one 
 thousand seven hundred and fifteen, he wiU find you a better horse- 
 troop and a better cause than you have lost." 
 
 " But your sister, Fergus ? " 
 
 " Out, hyperbolical fiend ! " replied the Chief, laughing ; " how 
 vexest thou this man ! — Speak'st thou of nothing but of ladies ? " 
 
 " Nay, be serious, my dear friend," said Waverley ; " I feel that 
 the happiness of my future life must depend upon the answer which 
 Miss Mac-Ivor shall make to what I ventured to tell her this 
 morning." 
 
 "And is this your very sober earnest," said Fergus, moregravely, 
 " or are we in the land of romance and fiction ? " 
 
WAVERI-EY. 169 
 
 My earnest, undoubtedly. How could you suppose me jesting 
 on such a subject?" 
 
 " Then, in very sober earnest," answered his friend, " I am very 
 glad to hear it ; and so highly do I think of Flora, that you are the 
 only man in England for whom I would say so much. — But before 
 you shake my hand so warmly, there is more to be considered. — 
 Your own family — will they approve your connecting yourself with 
 the sister of a high-born Highland beggar?" 
 
 " My uncle's situation," said Waverley, " his general opinions, 
 and his uniform indulgence, entitle me to say, that birth and per- 
 sonal qualities are all he would look to in such a connexion. And 
 where can I find both united in such excellence as in your sister ? " 
 
 " O nowhere ! — cela va sans dz?-c" replied Fergus with a smile. 
 " But your father will expect a father's prerogative in being con- 
 sulted." 
 
 " Surely ; but his late breach with the ruling powers removes all 
 apprehension of objection on his part, especially as I am convinced 
 that my uncle will be warm in my cause." 
 
 " Religion, perhaps," said Fergus, "may make obstacles, though 
 we are not bigoted Catholics." 
 
 " My grandmother was of the Church of Rome, and her religiori 
 was never objected to by my family. — Do not think of my friends, 
 dear Fergus ; let me rather have your influence where it may be 
 more necessary to remove obstacles — I mean with your lovely 
 sister." 
 
 " My lovely sister," replied Fergus, " like her loving brother, is 
 very apt to have a pretty decisive will of her own, by which, in 
 this case, you must be ruled ; but you shall not want my interest, 
 nor my counsel. And, in the first place, I will give you one hint — 
 Loyalty is her ruling passion ; and since she could spell an English 
 book, she has been in love with the memory of the gallant Captain 
 Wogan, who renounced the service of the usurper Cromwell to join 
 the standard of Charles II., marched a handful of cavalry from 
 London to the Highlands to join Middleton, then in arms for the 
 king, and at length died gloriously in the royal cause. Ask her to 
 show you some verses she made on his history and fate ; they 
 
 have been much admired, I assure you. The next point is I 
 
 think I saw Flora go up towards the waterfall a short time since — 
 follow, man, follow ! don't allow the garrison time to strengthen its 
 purposes of resistance — Alerte d, la muraille ! Seek Flora out, and 
 learn her decision as soon as you can — and Cupid go with you, 
 while I go to look over belts and cartouch-boxes." 
 
 Waverley ascended the glen with an anxious and throbbing heart. 
 Love, with aU its romantic train of hopes, fears, and wishes, was 
 
I70 WAVERLEY. 
 
 mingled with other feelings of a nature less easily defined. He 
 could not but remember how much this morning had changed his 
 fate, and into what a complication of perplexity it was likely to 
 plunge him. Sun-rise had seen him possessed of an esteemed 
 rank in the honourable profession of arms, his father to all appear- 
 ance rapidly rising in the favour of his sovereign ; — all this had 
 passed away like a dream — he himself was dishonoured, his father 
 disgraced, and he had become involuntarily the confidant at least, 
 if not the accomplice, of plans dark, deep, and dangerous, which 
 miist infer either the subversion of the Government he had so lately 
 served, or the destruction of all who had participated in them. 
 Should Flora even listen to his suit favourably, what prospect was 
 there of its being brought to a happy termination, amid the tumult 
 of an impending insurrection ? Or how could he make the selfish 
 request that she should leave Fergus, to whom she was so much 
 attached, and, retiring with him to England, wait, as a distant 
 spectator, the success of her brother's undertaking, or the ruin of 
 all his hopes and fortunes ?^0r, on the other hand, to engage 
 himself, with no other aid than his single arm, in the dangerous 
 and precipitate counsels of the Chieftain, — to be whirled along by 
 him, the partaker of all his desperate and impetuous motions, re- 
 nouncing almost the power of judging, or deciding upon the recti- 
 tude or prudence of his actions, — this was no pleasing prospect for 
 the secret pride of Waverley to stoop to. And yet what other 
 conclusion remained, saving the rejection of his addresses by 
 Flora, an alternative not to be thought of in the present high- 
 wrought state of his feelings, with any thing short of mental agony. 
 Pondering the doubtful and dangerous prospect before him, he at 
 length arrived near the cascade, where, as Fergus had augured, he 
 found Flora seated. 
 
 She was quite alone, and as soon as she observed his approach, 
 she rose, and came to meet him. Edward attempted to say some- 
 thing within the verge of ordinary compliment and conversation, 
 but found himself unequal to the task. Flora seemed at first 
 equally embarrassed, but recovered herself more speedily, and (an 
 unfavourable augury for Waverley's suit) was the first to enter upon 
 the subject of their last interview. " It is too important, in every 
 point of view, Mr. Waverley, to permit me to leave you in doubt 
 on my sentiments." 
 
 " Do not speak them speedily," said Waverley, much agitated, 
 " unless they are such as, 1 fear from your manner, I must not dare 
 to anticipate. Let time — let my future conduct^ — let your brother's 
 influence " 
 
 " Forgive me, Mr. Waverley," said Flora, her complexion a little 
 
WAVERLEY. 171 
 
 heightened, but her voice firm and composed. " I should incur my 
 own heavy censure, did I delay expressing my sincere conviction 
 that I can never regard you otherwise than as a valued friend. 1 
 should do you the highest injustice did I conceal my sentiments for 
 a moment — I see I distress you, and I grieve for -it, but better now 
 than later ; and O, better a thousand times, Mr. Waverley, that you 
 should feel a present momentary disappointment, than the long and 
 heart-sickening griefs which attend a rash and ill-assorted mar- 
 riage ! " 
 
 " Good God ! " exclaimed Waverley, " why should you anticipate 
 such consequences from a union where birth is equal, where fortune 
 is favourable, where, if I may venture to say so, the tastes are 
 similar, where you allege no preference for another, where you even 
 express a favourable opinion of him whom you reject ? " 
 
 " Mr. Waverley, I have that favourable opinion," answered Flora; 
 " and so strongly, that though I would rather have been silent on 
 the grounds of my resolution, you shall command them, if you 
 exact such a mark of my esteem and confidence." 
 
 She sat down upon a fragment of rock, and Waverley, placing 
 himself near her, anxiously pressed for the explanation she 
 offered. 
 
 " I dare hardly," she said, " tell you the situation of my feelings, 
 they are so different from those usually ascribed to young women 
 at my period of life ; and I dare hardly touch upon what I conjec- 
 ture to be the nature of yours, lest I should give offence where I 
 would- willingly administer consolation. For myself, from my 
 infancy till this day, I have had but one wish — the restoration 
 of my royal benefactors to their rightful throne. It is impossible to 
 express to you the devotion of my feelings to this single subject ; 
 and I will frankly confess, that it has so occupied my mind as to 
 exclude every thought respecting what is called my own settlement 
 in life. Let me but live to see the day of that happy restoration, 
 and a Highland cottage, a French convent, or an English palace, 
 will be alike indifferent to me." 
 
 " But, dearest Flora, how is your enthusiastic zeal for the exiled 
 family inconsistent with my happiness .'' " 
 
 " Because you seek, or ought to seek, in the object of your 
 attachment, a heart whose principal delight should be in augment- 
 ing your domestic felicity, and returning your affection, even 
 to the height of romance. To a rrian of less keen sensibility, 
 and less enthusiastic tenderness of disposition. Flora Mac-Ivor 
 might give content, if not happiness ; for were the irrevocable 
 words spoken, nover would she be deficient in the duties which 
 she vowed." 
 
172 WAVERLEY. 
 
 "And why-^why, Miss Mac-Ivor, should you think yourself a 
 more valuable treasure to one who is less capable of loving, of 
 admiring you, than to me ? " 
 
 " Simply because the tone of our affections would be more in 
 unison, and because his more blunted sensibility would not require 
 the return of enthusiasm which I have not to bestow. But you, 
 Mr. Waverley, would for ever refer to the idea of domestic happiness 
 which your imagination is capable of painting, and whatever fell 
 short of that ideal representation would be construed into coolness 
 and indifference, while you might consider the enthusiasm with 
 which I regarded the success of the royal family, as defrauding 
 your affection of its due return." 
 
 " In other words. Miss Mac-Ivor, you cannot love me ? " said her 
 suitor dejectedly. 
 
 " I could esteem you, Mr. Waverley, as much, perhaps more, 
 than any man I have ever seen ; but I cannot love you as you 
 ought to be loved. O ! do not, for your own sake, desire so 
 hazardous an- experiment ! The woman whom you marry, ought to 
 have affections and opinions moulded upon yours. Her studies 
 ought to be your studies ; — her wishes, her feelings, her hopes, her 
 fears, should all mingle with yours. She should enhance your 
 pleasures, share your sorrows, and cheer your melancholy." 
 
 " And why will not you. Miss Mac-Ivor, who can so well describe 
 a happy union, — why will not you be yourself the person you de- 
 scribe ? " 
 
 " Is it possible you do not yet comprehend me ? " answered Flora. 
 " Have I not told you, that every keener sensation of my mind is 
 bent exclusively towards an event, upon which, indeed, I have no 
 power but those of my earnest prayers ? " 
 
 " And might not the granting the suit I solicit," said Waverley, 
 too earnest on his purpose to consider what he was about to say, 
 " even advance the interest to which you have devoted yourself? 
 My family is wealthy and powerful, inclined in principles to the 
 Stuart race, and should a favourable opportunity " 
 
 " A favourable opportunity ! " said Flora, somewhat scornfully, — 
 "inclined in principles ! — Can such lukewarm adherence be 
 honourable to youi-selves, or gratifying to your lawful sovereign ? — 
 Think, from my present feelings, what I should suffer, when I held 
 the place of member in a family, where the rights which I hold 
 most sacred are subjected to cold discussion, and only deemed 
 worthy of support when they shall appear on the point of triumph- 
 ing without it ! " 
 
 " Your doubts," quickly replied Waverley, " are unjust as far as 
 concerns myself. The cause that I shall assert, I dare support 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 173 
 
 through every danger, as undauntedly as the boldest who draws 
 sword in its behalf." 
 
 " Of that," answered Flora, " I cannot doubt for a moment. But 
 consult your own good sense and reason, rather than a preposses- 
 sion hastily adopted, probably only because you have met a young 
 woman possessed of the usual accompHshments,in a sequestered and 
 romantic situation. Let your part in this great and perilous drama 
 rest upon conviction, and not on a hurried, and probably a tempo- 
 rary feeling." 
 
 Waverley attempted to reply, but his words failed him. Every 
 sentiment that Flora had uttered vindicated the strength of his 
 attachment ; for even her loyalty, although wildly enthusiastic, was 
 generous and noble, and disdained to avail itself of any indirect 
 means of supporting the cause to which she was devoted. 
 
 After walking a little way in silence down the path, Flora thus 
 resumed the conversation. — " One word more, Mr. Waverley, ere 
 we bid farewell to this topic for ever ; and forgive my boldness if 
 that word have the air of advice. My brother Fergus is anxious 
 that you should join him in his present enterprise. But do not 
 consent to this : you could not, by your single exertions, further 
 his success, and you would inevitably share his fall, if it be God's 
 pleasure that fall he must. Your character would also suffer irre- 
 trievably. Let me beg you wiU return to your own country ; and, 
 having publicly freed yourself from every tie to the usurping govern- 
 ment, I trust you will see cause, and find opportunity, to serve your 
 injured sovereign with effect, and ' stand forth, as your loyal ances- 
 tors, at the head of your natural followers and adherents, a worthy 
 representative of the house of Waverley." 
 
 " And should I be so happy as thus to distinguish myself, might 
 I not hope " 
 
 " Forgive my interruption,'' said Flora. " The present time- only 
 is ours, and 1 can but explain to you with candour the feelings 
 which I now entertain ; how they might be altered by a train of 
 events too favourable perhaps to be hoped for, it were in vain even 
 to conjecture : Only be assured, Mr. Waverley, that, after my 
 brother's honour and happiness, there is none which I shall more 
 sincerely pray for than for yours." 
 
 With these words she parted from hun, for they were now arrived 
 where two paths separated, Waverley reached the castle amidst a 
 medley of conilicting passions. He avoided any private interview 
 with Fergus, as he did not find himself able either to encounter his 
 raillery, or reply to his solicitations. The wild revelry of the feast, 
 for Mac- Ivor kept open table for his clan, served in some degree 
 to stun reflection. When their festivity was ended, he began to 
 
174 WAVERLEY. 
 
 consider how he should again meet Miss Mac-Ivor after the pain- 
 ful and interesting explanation of the morning. But Flora did not 
 appear. Fergus, whose eyes flashed when he was told by Cathleen 
 that her mistress designed to keep her apartment that evening, 
 went himself in quest of her ; but apparently his remonstrances 
 were in vain, for he returned with a heightened complexion, and 
 manifest symptoms of displeasure. The rest of the evening passed 
 on without any allusion, on the part either of Fergus or Waverley, 
 to the subject which engrossed the reflections of the latter, and per- 
 haps of both. 
 
 When retired to his own apartment, Edward endeavoured to 
 sum up the business of the day. That the repulse he had received 
 from Flora would be persisted in for the present, there was no 
 doubt. But could he hope for ultimate success in case circum- 
 stances permitted the renewal of his suit ? Would the enthusiastic 
 loyalty, which at this, animating moment left no room for a softer 
 passion, survive, at least in its engrossing force, the success or the 
 failure of the present political machinations ? And if so, could he 
 hope that the interest which she had acknowledged him to possess 
 in her favour, might be improved into a warmer attachment .' He 
 taxed his memory to recall every word she had used, with the 
 appropriate looks and gestures which had enforced them, and 
 ended by finding himself in the same state of uncertainty. It was 
 very late before sleep brought relief to the tumult of his mind, after 
 the most painful and agitating day which he had ever passed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A LETTER PROM TULLY-VEOLAN. 
 
 In the morning, when Waverley's troubled reflections had for 
 some time given way to repose, there came music to his dreams, 
 but not the voice of Selma. He imagined himself transported back 
 to Tully-Veolan, and that he heard Davie Gellatley singing in the 
 court those matins which used generally to be the first sounds that 
 disturbed his repose while a guest of the Baron of Bradwardine. 
 The notes which suggested this vision continued, and waxed louder, 
 until Edward awoke in earnest. The illusion, however, did not 
 seem entirely dispelled. The apartment was in the fortress of Ian 
 nan Chaistel, but it was still the voice of Davie Gellatley that made 
 the following lines resound under the window : — 
 
 My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, 
 My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer ; 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 ^75 
 
 A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, 
 My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.* 
 
 Curious to know what could have determined Mr. Gellatley on an 
 excursion of such unwonted extent, Edward began to dress him- 
 self in all haste, during which operation the minstrelsy of Davie 
 changed its tune more than once : — 
 
 There's nought in the Highlands but syboes and leeks, 
 And lang-leggit callants gaun wanting the breeks ; 
 Wanting the breeks, and without hose and shoon, 
 But we'll a' win the breeks when King Jamie comes hame."* 
 
 By the time Waverley was dressed and had issued forth, David 
 Iiad associated himself with two or three of the numerous High- 
 land loungers who always graced the gates of the castle with their 
 presence, and was capering and dancing full merrily in the doubles 
 and full career of a Scotch foursome reel, to the music of his own 
 whistling. In this double capacity of dancer and musician, he 
 continued, until an idle piper who observed his zeal, obeyed the 
 unanimous call of Seid suas [i. e., blow up), and relieved him from 
 the latter part of his trouble. Young and old then mingled in the 
 dance as they could find partners. The appearance of Waverley 
 <iid not interrupt Davie's exercise, though he contrived, by grinning, 
 nodding, and throwing one or two inclinations of the body into the 
 graces with which he performed the Highland fling, to convey to 
 our hero symptoms of recognition. Then, while busily employed 
 in setting, whooping all the while, and snapping his fingers over 
 iis head, he of a sudden prolonged his side-step until it brought 
 him to the place where Edward was standing, and, still keeping 
 time to the music like Harlequin in a pantomime, he thrust a letter 
 into our hero's hand, and continued his saltation without pause or 
 intermission. Edward, who perceived that the address was in 
 Rose's handwriting, retired to peruse it, leaving the faithful bearer 
 to continue his exercise until the piper or he should be tired out. 
 
 The contents of the letter greatly surprised him. It had origi- 
 nally commenced with Dear Sirj but these words had been care- 
 fully erased, and the monosyllable, Sir, substituted in their place. 
 The rest of the contents shall be given in Rose's own language : — 
 
 " I fear I am using an improper freedom by intruding upon you, 
 •yet I cannot trust to any one else to let you know some things 
 which have happened here, with which it seems necessary you 
 should be acquainted. Forgive me, if I am wrong in what I am 
 •doing ; for, alas ! Mr. Waverley, I have no better advice than 
 that of my own feelings ; — my dear father is gone from this place, 
 and when he can return to my assistance and protection, God alone 
 
176 WAVERLEY. 
 
 knows. You have probably heard, that in consequence of some 
 troublesome news from the Highlands, warrants were sent out for 
 apprehending several gentlemen in these parts, and, among others, 
 my dear father. In spite of all my tears and entreaties that he would 
 surrender himself to the Government, he joined with Mr. Falconer 
 and some other gentlemen, and they have all gone northwards, 
 with a body of about forty horsemen. So I am not so anxious 
 concerning his immediate safety, as about what may follow after- 
 wards, for these troubles are only beginning. But all this is 
 nothing to you, Mr. Waverley, only I thought you would be glad 
 to learn that my father has escaped, in case you happen to have 
 heard that he was in danger. 
 
 " The day after my father went off, there came a party of soldiers 
 to TuUy-Veolan, and behaved very rudely to Bailie Macwheeble ; 
 but the officer was very civil to me, only said his duty obliged him 
 to search for arms and papers. My father had provided against 
 this by taking away all the arms except the old useless tilings which 
 hung in the hall, and he had put all his papers out of the way. 
 But O ! Mr. Waverley, how shall I tell you that they made strict 
 inquiry after you, and asked when you had been at TuUy-Veolan, 
 and where you now were. The officer is gone back with his party, 
 but a non-commissioned officer and four men remain as a sort of 
 garrison in the house. They have hitherto behaved very well, as 
 we are forced to keep them in good-humour. But these soldiers 
 have hinted as if on your falling into their hands you would be in 
 great danger ; I cannot prevail on myself to write what wicked 
 falsehoods they said, for I am sure they are falsehoods : but you 
 will best judge what you ought to do. The party that returned 
 carried off your servant prisoner, with your two horses, and every 
 thing that you left at TuUy-Veolan. I hope God will protect you,, 
 and that you will get safe home to England, where you used to tell 
 me there was no military violence nor fighting among clans per- 
 mitted, but every thing was done according to an equal law that 
 protected all who were harmless and innocent. I hope you will 
 exert your indulgence as to my boldness in writing to you, where- 
 it seems to me, though perhaps erroneously, that your safety and. 
 honour are concerned. I am sure — at least I think, my father 
 would approve of my writing ; for Mr. Rubric is fled to his cousin's 
 at the Duchran, to be out of danger from the soldiers and the- 
 Whigs, and Bailie Macwheeble does not like to meddle (he says) 
 in other men's concerns, though I hope what may serve my 
 father's friend at such a time as this, cannot be termed improper- 
 interference. Farewell, Captain Waverley ! I shall probably never 
 see you more ; for it would be very improper to wish you to caU at 
 
WAVERLEY. 177 
 
 Tully-Veolan just now, even if these men were gone ; but I will 
 always remember with gratitude your kindness in assisting so poor 
 2. scholar as myself, and your attentions to my dear, dear father. 
 " I remain your obliged servant, 
 
 " Rose Comyne Bradwardine. 
 
 P-S. — I hope you will send me a line by David Gellatley, just 
 to say you have received this, and that you will take care of 
 yourself; and forgive me if I entreat you, for your own sake, to 
 join none of these unhappy cabals, but escape, as fast as possible, 
 to your own fortunate country. — My compliments to my dear 
 Flora, and to Glennaquoich. Is she not as handsome and accom- 
 plished as I described her .? " 
 
 Thus concluded the letter of Rose Bradwardine, the contents of 
 •which both surprised and affected Waverley. That the Baron 
 should fall under the suspicions of Government, in consequence of 
 the present stir among the partisans of the house of Stuart, seemed 
 only the natural consequence of his political predilections ; but how 
 Jie himself should have been involved in such suspicions, conscious 
 that until yesterday he had been free from harbouring a thought 
 against the prosperity of the reigning family, seemed inexplicable. 
 Both at Tully-Veolan and Glennaquoich, his hosts had respected 
 his engagements with the existing Government, and though enough 
 passed by accidental innuendo that might induce him to reckon 
 the Baron and the Chief among those disaffected gentlemen who 
 were still numerous in Scotland, yet until his own connexion with 
 the army had been broken off by the resumption of his commission, 
 he had no reason to suppose that they iiourished any immediate or 
 hostile attempts against the present establishment. Still he was 
 aware that unless he meant at once to embrace the proposal of 
 Fergus Mac-Ivor, it would deeply concern him to leave the sus- 
 picious neighbourhood without delay, and repair where his conduct 
 might undergo a satisfactory examination. Upon this he the rather 
 determined, as Flora's advice favoured his doing so, and because 
 he felt inexpressible repugnance at the idea of being accessaiy to 
 the plague of civil war. Whatever were the original rights of the 
 Stuarts, calm reflection told him, that, omitting the question how 
 far James the Second could forfeit those of his posterity, he had, 
 according to the united voice of the whole nation, justly forfeited 
 his own. Since that period, four monarchs had reigned in peace 
 and glory over Britain, sustaining and exalting the character of the 
 nation abroad, and its liberties at home. Reason asked, was it 
 worth while to disturb a government so long settled and estab- 
 lished, and to plunge a kingdom into all the miseries of civil war, 
 
 M 
 
' lyS ' WAVERLEY. 
 
 for the purpose of replacing upon the throne the descendants of a 
 monarch by whom it had been wilfully forfeited ? If, on the other 
 hand, his own final conviction of the goodness of their cause, or 
 the commands of his father or uncle, should recommend to him 
 allegiance to the Stuarts, still it was necessary to clear his own 
 character by showing that he had not, as seemed to be falsely 
 insinuated, taken any step to this purpose, during his holding the 
 commission of the reigning monarch. 
 
 The affectionate simplicity of Rose, and her anxiety for his- 
 safety, — his sense too of her unprotected state, and of the terror 
 and actual dangers to which she might be exposed, made an 
 impression upon his mind, and he instantly wrote to thank her in 
 the kindest terms for her solicitude on his account, to express his 
 earnest good wishes for her welfare and that of her fathei", and to 
 assure her of his own safety. The feelings which this task excited 
 were speedily lost in the necessity which he now saw of bidding 
 farewell to Flora Mac-Ivor, perhaps for ever. The pang attending 
 this reflection was inexpressible ; for her high-minded elevation of 
 character, her self-devotion to the cause which she had embraced, 
 united to her scrupiilous rectitude as to the means of serving it, 
 had vindicated to his judgment the choice adopted by his passions. 
 But time pressed, calumny was busy with his fame, and every 
 hour's delay increased the power to injure it. His departure must 
 be instant. 
 
 With this determination he sought out Fergus, and communi- 
 cated to him the contents of Rose's letter, with his own resolution 
 instantly to go to Edinburgh, and put into the hands of some one 
 or other of those persons of influence to whom he had letters from 
 his father, his exculpation from any charge which might be pre- 
 ferred against him. 
 
 " You run your head into the lion's mouth," answered Mac-Ivor. 
 "" You do not know the severity of a Government harassed by just 
 apprehensions, and a consciousness of their own illegality and inse- 
 curity. I shall have to deliver you from some dungeon in Stirling 
 or Edinburgh Castle." 
 
 " My innocence, my rank, my father's intimacy with Lord M , 
 
 General G , &c., will be a sufficient protection," said Waverley. 
 
 " You will find the contrary," replied the Chieftain ; — " these 
 gentlemen will have enough to do about tlieir own matters. Once 
 more, will you take the plaid, and stay a little while with us among 
 Ihe mists and the crows, in the bravest cause ever sword was 
 ^rawn in ? " * 
 
 " For many reasons, my dear Fergus, you must hold me excused." 
 
 " Well, then," said Mac-Ivor, " I shall certainly find you exerting 
 
WAVERLEY. 179 
 
 your poetical talents in elegies upon a prison, or your antiqua- 
 rian researches in detecting the Oggam * character, or some Punic 
 hieroglyphic upon the key-stones of a vault, curiously arched. Or 
 what say you to un petit pendement Hen joli? against which awk- 
 ward ceremony I don't warrant you, should you meet a body of the 
 armed west-country Whigs." 
 
 " And why should they use me so ? " said Waverley. 
 
 " For a hundred good reasons," answered Fergus : " First, you 
 are an Englishman ; secondly, a gentleman ; thirdly, a prelatist 
 abjured ; and, fourthly, they have not had an opportunity to exercise 
 their talents on such a subject this long while. But don't be cast 
 down, beloved : all will be done in the fear of the Lord." 
 
 " Well, I must run my hazard." 
 
 " You are determined, then ? " 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " Wilful will do't," said Fergus ; — " but you cannot go on foot, 
 and I shall want no horse, as I must march on foot at the head of 
 the children of Ivor ; you shall have brown Dermid." 
 
 " If you will sell him, I shall certainly be much obliged." 
 
 " If your proud English heart cannot be obliged by a gift or loan, 
 I will not refuse money at the entrance of a campaign : his price is 
 twenty guineas. [Remember, reader, it was Sixty Years since.] 
 And when do you propose to depart ? " 
 
 " The sooner the better," answered Waverley. 
 
 " You are right, since go you must, or rather, since go you wiU : 
 I wiU take Flora's pony, and ride with you as far as Bally-Brough. 
 — Galium Beg, see that our horses are ready, with a pony for your- 
 self, to attend and carry Mr. Waverle/s baggage as far as ■ 
 
 (naming a small town), where he can have a horse and guide to 
 Edinburgh. Put on a Lowland dress, Galium, and see you keep 
 your tongue close, if you would not have me cut it out : Mr. Waver- 
 ley rides Dermid." Then turning to Edward, " You wiU take leave 
 of my sister ? " 
 
 " Surely — that is, if Miss Mac-Ivor will honour me so far." 
 
 " Cathleen, let my sister know that Mr. Waverley wishes to bid 
 her farewell before he leaves us. — But, Rose Bradwardine, — her 
 situation must be thought of — I wish she were here — And why 
 should she not ? — There are but four red-coats at TuUy-Veolan, 
 and their muskets would be very useful to us." 
 
 To these broken remarks Edward made no answer ; his ear 
 indeed received them, but his soul was intent upon the expected 
 entrance of Flora. The door opened — It was but Gathleen, with 
 her lady's excuse, and wishes for Gaptain Waverle/s health and 
 happiness. 
 
 M 2 
 
iSo WAVERLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 WAVERLEY'b RECEPTION IN THE LOWLANDS AFTER HIS 
 HIGHLAND TOUR. 
 
 It was noon when the two friends stood at the top of the pass of 
 Bally-Brough. " I must go no farther," said Fergus Mac-Ivor, who 
 durino' the journey had in vain endeavoured to raise his friend's 
 spirits. " If my cross-grained sister has any share in your dejection, 
 trust me she thinks highly of you, though her present anxiety about 
 the public cause prevents her listening to any other subject. Con- 
 fide your interest to me ; I will not betray it, providing you do not 
 again assume that vile cockade." 
 
 " No fear of that, considering the manner in which it has been 
 recalled. Adieu, Fergus ; do not permit your sister to forget 
 me. 
 
 " And adieu, Waverley ; you may soon hear of her with a prouder 
 title. Get home, write letters, and make friends as many and as 
 fast as you can ; there will speedily be unexpected guests on the 
 coast of Suffolk, or my news from France has deceived me."* 
 
 Thus parted the friends ; Fergus returning back to his castle, 
 while Edward, followed by Galium Beg, the latter transfonned 
 from point to point into a Low-country groom, proceeded to the 
 little town of . 
 
 Edward paced on under the painful and yet not altogether em- 
 bittered feelings, which separation and uncertainty produce in the 
 mind of a youthful lover. I am not sure if the ladies understand 
 the full value of the influence of absence, nor do I think it wise to 
 teach it them, lest, like the Glelias and Mandanes of yore, they 
 should resume the humour of sending their lovers into banishment. 
 Distance, in truth, produces in idea the same effect as in real per- 
 spective. Objects are softened, and rounded, and rendered doubly 
 graceful ; the harsher and more ordinary points of character are 
 mellowed down, and those by which it is remembered are the 
 more striking outlines that mark sublimity, grace,. or beauty. There i 
 are mists too in the mental, as well as the natural horizon, to con- 
 ceal what is less pleasing in distant objects, and there are happy 
 lights, to stream in full glory upon those points which can profit by 
 brilliant illumination. 
 
 Waverley forgot Flora Mac-Ivor's prejudices in her magnanimitv, 
 and almost pardoned her indifference towards his affection, when 
 he recollected the grand and decisive object which seemed to fill 
 her whole soul. She, whose sense of duty so wholly engrossed her 
 
-^^Utca^ 
 
WAVERLEY. i8t 
 
 in the cause of a benefactor,— what would be her feelings in favour 
 of the happy individual who should be so fortunate as to awaken 
 them / Then came the doubtful question, whether he might not 
 be that happy man, — a question which fancy endeavoured ta 
 answer in the affirmative, by conjuring up all she had said in his 
 praise, with the addition of a comment much more flattering than 
 the text warranted. All that was commonplace, all that belonged 
 to the every-day world, was melted away and obliterated in those 
 dreams of imagination, which only remembered with advantage 
 the points of grace and dignity that distinguished Flora from the 
 generality of her sex, not the particulars which she held in common 
 with them. Edward was, in short, in the fair way of creating a 
 goddess out of a high-spirited, accomplished, and beautiful young 
 woman ; and the time was wasted in castle-building, until, at the 
 descent of a steep hill, he saw beneath him the market-town 
 of . 
 
 The Highland politeness of Galium Beg — there are few nations, 
 by the way, who can boast of so much natural politeness as the 
 Highlanders* — the Highland civility of his attendant had not 
 permitted him to disturb the reveries of our hero. But observing 
 him rouse himself at the sight of the village, Galium pressed closer 
 to his side, and hoped " When they cam to the public, his honour 
 wad not say nothing about Vich Ian Vohr, for ta people were bitter 
 Whigs, deil burst tem." 
 
 Waverley assured the prudent page that he would be cautious^ 
 and as he now distinguished, not indeed the ringing of bells, bitt 
 the tinkling of something like a hammer against the side of an old 
 mossy, green, inverted porridge-pot, that hung in an open booth, of 
 the size and shape of a parrot's cage, erected to grace the east end 
 of a building resembling an old barn, he asked Galium Beg if it 
 were Sunday. 
 
 " Gould na say just preceesely — Sunday seldom cam aboon the 
 pass of Bally-Brough." 
 
 On entering the town, however, and advancing towards the most 
 apparent public house which presented itself, the numbers of old 
 women, in tartan screens and red cloaks, who streamed from the 
 barn-resembling building, debating, as they went, the comparative 
 merits of the blessed youth Jabesh Rentowel, and that chosen 
 vessel Maister Goukthrapple, induced Galium to assure his tem- 
 porary master, " that it was either ta muckle Sunday hersell, or ta 
 little government Sunday that they ca'd ta fast." 
 
 On alighting at the sign of the Seven-branched Golden Gandle- 
 stick, which, for the further delectation of the guests, was graced 
 with a short Hebrew motto, they were received by mine host, a taH 
 
l82 WAVERLEY. 
 
 thin puritanical figure, who seemed to debate with himself whether 
 he ought to give shelter to those who travelled on such a day. 
 Reflecting, however, in all probability, that he possessed the power 
 of mulcting them for this irregularity, a penalty which they might 
 escape by passing into Gregor Duncanson's, at the sign of the 
 Highlander and the Hawick Gill, Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks con- 
 descended to admit them into his dwelling. 
 
 To this sanctified person Waverley addressed his request that he 
 would procure him a guide, with a saddle-horse, to cany his port- 
 manteau to Edinburgh. 
 
 " And whar may ye be coming from ? " demanded mine host of 
 the Candlestick. 
 
 " I have told you where I wish to go ; I do not conceive any 
 further information necessary either for the guide or his saddle- 
 horse." 
 
 " Hem ! Ahem ! " returned he of the Candlestick, somewhat 
 disconcerted at this rebuff. " It's the general fast, sir, and I cannot 
 enter into ony carnal transactions on sic a day, when the people 
 should be humbled, and the backsliders should return, as worthy 
 Mr. Goukthrapple said ; and moreover when, as the precious 
 Mr. Jabesh Rentowel did weel observe, the land was mourning for 
 covenants burnt, broken, and buried." 
 
 " My good friend," said Waverley, " if you cannot let me have a 
 horse and guide, my servant shall seek them elsewhere." 
 
 " Aweel ! Your servant? — and what for gangs he not forward 
 wi' you himsell ?" 
 
 Waverley had but very little of a captain of horse's spirit within 
 him — I mean of that sort of spirit which I have been obliged to 
 when I happened, in a mail-coach, or diligence, to meet some 
 military man who has kindly taken upon him the disciplining of 
 the waiters, and the taxing of reckonings. Some of this useful 
 talent our hero had, however, acquired during his military service, 
 and on this gross provocation it began seriously to arise. " Look 
 ye, sir; I came here for my own accommodation, and not to 
 answer impertinent questions. Either say you can, or cannot, get 
 me what I want ; I shall pursue my course in either case." 
 
 Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks left the room with some indistinct 
 muttering; but whether negative or acquiescent, Edward could not 
 well distinguish. The hostess, a civil, quiet, laborious drudge, came 
 to take his orders for dinner, but declined to make answer on the 
 subject of the horse and guide; for the Salique law, it seems, 
 extended to the stables of the Golden Candlestick. 
 
 From a window which overlooked the dark and narrow court in 
 which Galium Beg rubbed down the horses after their journey, 
 
WAVERLEY. 1S3 
 
 Waverley heard the following dialogue betwixt the subtle foot-page 
 of Vich Ian Vohr and his landlord : — 
 
 " Ye'll be frae the north, young man?" began the latter. 
 
 " And ye may say that," answered Galium. 
 
 "And ye'll hae ridden a lang way the day, it may weel be ?" 
 
 " Sae lang, that I could weel tak a dram." 
 
 " Gudewife, bring the giU stoup." 
 
 Here some compliments passed, fitting the occasion, when my 
 host of the Golden Candlestick, having, as he thought, opened his 
 guest's heart by this hospitable pi-opitiation, resumed his scrutiny. 
 
 " Ye'U no hae mickle better whisky than that aboon the Pass?" 
 
 " I am nae frae aboon the Pa^s." 
 
 " Ye're a Highlandman by your tongue?" 
 
 " Na; I am but just Aberdeen-a-wa." 
 
 " And did your master come frae Aberdeen wi' you ?" 
 
 " Ay — that's when I left it mysell," answered the cool and im- 
 penetrable Galium Beg. 
 
 " And what kind of a gentleman is he?" 
 
 " I believe he is ane o' King George's state officers ; at least he's 
 aye for ganging on to the south ; and he has a hantlc siller, and 
 never grudges ony thing till a poor body, or in the way of a lawing." 
 
 " He wants a guide and a horse frae hence to Edinburgh?" 
 
 "Ay, and ye maun find it him forthwith." 
 
 " Ahem ! It will be chargeable." 
 
 "He cares na for that a bodle." 
 
 " Aweel, Duncan — did ye say your name was Duncan, or 
 Donald?" 
 
 " Na, man — Jamie — Jamie Steenson — I telt ye before." 
 
 This last undaunted pai-ry altogether foiled Mr. Gruickshanks, 
 who, though not quite satisfied either with the reserve of the master, 
 or the extreme readiness of the man, was coiTtented to lay a tax on 
 the reckoning and horse-hire, that might compound for his un- 
 gratified curiosity. The circumstance of its being the fast-day was 
 not forgotten in the charge, which, on the whole, did not, how- 
 ever, amount to much more than double what in fairness it should 
 have been. 
 
 Galium Beg soon after announced in person the ratification of 
 this treaty, adding, "Ta auld deevil was ganging to ride wi' ta 
 Duinhd-wassel hersell." 
 
 " That will not be very pleasant, Galium, nor altogether safe, for 
 our host seems a person of great curiosity ; but a traveller must 
 submit to these inconveniences. Meanwhile, my good lad, here is 
 a trifle for you to drink Vich Ian Vohr's health." 
 
 The hawk's eye of Galium flashed delight upon a golden guinea, 
 
i84 WAVERLEY, 
 
 with which these last words were accompanied. He hastened, not 
 without a curse on the intricacies of a Saxon breeches pocket, or 
 sphuchan, as he called it, to deposit the treasure in his fob ; and 
 then, as if he conceived the benevolence called for some requital 
 on his part, he gathered close up to Edward, with an expression of 
 countenance peculiarly knowing, and spoke in an under tone, " If 
 his honour thought ta auld deevil Whig carle was a bit dangerous, 
 she could easily provide for him, and teil ane ta wiser." 
 " How, and in what manner?" 
 
 " Her ain sell," replied Galium, " could wait for him a wee bit 
 frae the toun, and kittle his quarters wi' her skene-occle ! " 
 " Skene-occlS ! what's that ?" 
 
 Galium unbuttoned his coat, raised his left arm, and, with an 
 emphatic nod, pointed to the hilt of a small dirk, snugly deposited 
 under it, in the lining of his jacket. Waverley thought he had 
 misunderstood his meaning; he gazed in his face, and discovered 
 in Gallum's very handsome, though embrowned features, just the 
 degree of roguish malice With which a lad of the same age in 
 England would have brought forward a plan for robbing an 
 orchard. ' 
 
 " Good God, Galium, would you take the man's life ? " 
 " Indeed," answered the young desperado, " and I think he has 
 had just a lang enough lease o't, when he's for betraying honest 
 folk, that come to spend siller at his public." 
 
 Edward saw nothing was to be gained by argument, and there- 
 fore contented himself with enjoining Galium to lay aside all 
 practices against the person of Mr. Ebenezer Gruickshanks ; in 
 which injunction the page seemed to acquiesce with an air of great 
 indifference. 
 
 " Ta Duinhd-wassel might please himsell; ta auld rudas loon had 
 never done Galium jiae ill. But here's a bit line fra ta Tighearna, 
 that he bade me gie your honour ere I came back." 
 
 The letter from the Chief contained Flora's lines on the fate of 
 Captain Wogan, whose enterprising character is so well drawn by 
 Clarendon. He had originally engaged in the service of the Parlia- 
 ment, but had abjured that party upon the execution of Charles I. ; 
 and upon hearing that the royal standard was set up by the Earl 
 of Glencairn and General Middleton in the Highlands of Scotland, 
 took leave of Charles II., who was then at Paris, passed into 
 England, assembled a body of cavaliers in the neighbourhood of 
 London, and traversed the kingdom, which, had been so long under 
 domination of the usurper, by marches conducted with such skill, 
 dexterity, and spirit, that he safely united his handful of horsemen 
 with the body of Highlanders then in arms. After several months 
 
WAVERLEY. 185 
 
 of desultory warfare, in which Wogan's skill and courage gained 
 him the highest reputation, he had the misfortune to be wounded 
 in a dangerous manner, and no surgical assistance being within 
 reach, he terminated his short but glorious career. 
 
 There were obvious reasons why the politic Chieftain was de- 
 sirous to place the example of this young hero under the eye of 
 Waverley, with whose romantic disposition it coincided so pecu- 
 liarly. But his letter turned chiefly upon some trifling commissions 
 which Waverley had promised to execute for him in England, and 
 it was only towards the conclusion that Edward found these 
 words : — " I owe Flora a grudge for refusing us her company 
 yesterday; and as I am giving you the trouble of reading these 
 lines, in order to keep in your memory your promise to procure 
 me the fishing-tackle and cross-bow from London, I wiU enclose 
 her verses on the Grave of Wogan. This I know will tease her;- 
 for, to tell you the truth, I think her more in love with the memory 
 of that dead hero, than she is likely to be with any living one,, 
 unless he shall tread a similar path. But English squires of our 
 day keep their oak-trees to shelter their deer-parks, or repair the 
 losses of an evening at White's, and neither invoke them to wreath 
 their brows, nor shelter their graves. Let me hope for one brilliant 
 exception in a dear friend, to whom I would most gladly give a, 
 dearer title." 
 
 The verses were inscribed, 
 
 TO AN OAK TREE, 
 
 In the Churchyard of , in the Highlands of Scotland, said to' 
 
 mark the Grave of Captain Wogan, killed in 1649. 
 
 Emblem of England's ancient faith, 
 
 Full proudly may thy branches wave, 
 Where loyalty lies low in death. 
 
 And valour fills a timeless grave. 
 
 And thou, brave tenant of the tomb ! 
 
 Repine not if our clime deny. 
 Above thine honour'd sod to bloom. 
 
 The ilowerets of a milder slcy. 
 
 These owe their birth to genial May; 
 
 Beneath a fiercer sun they pine, 
 Before the winter storm decay — 
 
 And can their worth be type of thine ? 
 
 No ! for 'mid storms of fate opposing. 
 Still higher swell'd thy dauntless heart, 
 
 And, while despair the scene was closing, 
 Commenced thy brief but brilliant part. 
 
j86 WAVERLEY. 
 
 'Twas then thou sought'st on Albyn's hill 
 (When England's sons the strife resign'd), 
 
 A rugged race, resisting still, 
 And unsubdued though unrefined. 
 
 Thy death's hour heard no kindred wail, 
 
 No holy knell thy requiem rung; 
 Thy mourners were the plaided Gael; 
 
 Thy dirge the clamorous pibroch sung. 
 
 Yet who, in Fortune's summer-shine 
 
 To waste life's longest term away, , 
 Would change that glorious dawn of thine, 
 
 Though darken'd ere its noontide day? 
 
 Be thine the Tree whose dauntless boughs ^ 
 Brave summer's drought and winter's gloom ! 
 
 Rome bound with oak her patriot's brows, 
 As Albyn shadows Wogan's tomb. 
 
 Whatever might be the real merit of Flora Mac-Ivor's poetry, 
 the enthusiasm which it intimated was well calculated to make a 
 .corresponding impression upon her lover. The lines were read — 
 read again — then deposited in Waverley's bosom — then again 
 drawn out, and read line by line, in a low and smothered voice, 
 and with frequent pauses which prolonged the mental treat, as an 
 epicure protracts, by sipping slowly, the enjoyment of a delicious 
 heverage. The entrance of Mrs. Cruickshanks, with the sublunary i 
 articles of dinner and wine, hardly interrupted this pantomime of 
 affectionate enthusiasm. 
 
 At length the tall ungainly figure and ungracious visage of 
 Ebenezer presented themselves. The upper part of his form, not- 
 withstanding the season required no such defence, was shrouded 
 in a large great-coat, belted over his under habiliments, and crested 
 -with a huge cowl of the. same stuff, which, when drawn over the 
 head and hat, completely overshadowed both, and being buttoned 
 beneath the chin, was called a trot-cozy. His hand grasped a 
 huge jockey-whip, garnished with brass mounting. His thin legs 
 tenanted a pair of gambadoes, fastened at the sides with rusty 
 dasps. Thus accoutred, he stalked into the midst of the apart- 
 ment, and announced his errand in brief phrase : — " Yer horses 
 are ready." 
 
 " You go with me yourself then, landlord ? " 
 
 " I do, as far as Perth ; where you may be suppUed with a guide 
 -to Embro', as your occasions shall require." 
 
 Thus saying, he placed under Waverley^s eye the bill which he 
 held in his hand : and at the same time, self-invited, filled a glass 
 of wine, and drank devoutly to a blessing on their journey. 
 
WAVERLEY. 187 
 
 Waverley stared at the man's impudence, but, as their connexion 
 was to be short, and promised to be convenient, he made no obser- 
 vation upon it; and, having paid his reckoning, expressed his 
 intention to depart immediately. He mounted Dermid accord- 
 ingly, and sallied forth from the Golden Candlestick, followed by 
 the puritanical figure we have described, after he had, at the expense 
 of some time and difficulty, and by the assistance of a " louping-on- 
 stane," or structure of masonry erected for the traveller's con- 
 venience in front of the house, elevated his person to the back of 
 a long-backed, raw-boned, thin-gutted phantom of a broken-down 
 blood-horse, _ on which Waverley's portmanteau was deposited. 
 Our hero, though not in a very gay humour, could hardly help 
 laughing at the appearance of his new squire, and at imagining 
 the astonishment which his person and equipage would have 
 excited at Waverley- Honour. 
 
 Edward's tendency to mirth did not escape mine host of the 
 Candlestick, who, conscious of the cause, infused a double portion of 
 souring into the pharisaical leaven oi his countenance, and resolved 
 intei-nally, that in one way or other the young Englisher should 
 pay dearly for the contempt with which he seemed to regard him. 
 Callum also stood at the gate, and enjoyed, with undissembled 
 glee, the ridiculous figure of Mr. Cruickshanks. As Waverley 
 passed him, he pulled off his hat respectfully, and approaching 
 his stirrup, bade him " Tak heed the auld Whig deevil played him 
 nae cantrip." 
 
 Waverley once more thanked, and bade him farewell, and then 
 rode briskly onward, not sorry to be out of hearing of the shouts 
 of the children, as they beheld old Ebenezer rise and sink in his 
 stirrups, to avoid the concussions occasioned by a hard trot upon 
 
 a half-paved street. The village of was soon several miles 
 
 behind him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 SHOWS THAT THE LOSS OF A HORSE'S SHOE MAY BE A SERIOUS 
 INCONVENIENCE. 
 
 The manner and air of Waverley, but, above all, the glittering 
 contents of his purse, and the indifference with which he seemed 
 to regard them, somewhat overawed his companion, and deterred 
 him from making any attempts to enter upon conversation. His 
 own reflections were, moreover, agitated by various surmises, and 
 by plans of self-interest, with which these were intimately con- 
 nected. The travellers journeyed, therefore, in silence, until it was 
 
i88 WAVERLEY. 
 
 interrupted by the annunciation, on the part of the guide, tha< his 
 " naig had lost a fore-foot shoe, which, doubtless, his honour w mid 
 consider it was his part to replace." 
 
 This was what lawyers call 2. fishing question, calculated t j ascer- 
 tain how far Waverley was disposed to submit to petty imposition. 
 " My part to replace your horse's shoe, you rascal ! " said Waverley, 
 mistaking the purport of the intimation. 
 
 " Indubitably," answered Mr. Cruickshanks ; " though there was 
 no preceese clause to that effect, it canna be expected that I am tO' 
 pay for the casualties whilk may befaU the puir naig while in your 
 honour's service. — Nathless, if your honour" 
 
 " O, you mean I am to pay the farrier ; but where shall we find 
 one?" 
 
 Rejoiced at discerning there would be no objection made on 
 the part of his temporary master, Mr. Cruickshanks assured him 
 that Cairnvreckan, a village which they were about to enter, was 
 happy in an excellent blacksmith ; " but as he was a professor, he 
 would drive a nail for no man on the Sabbath, or kirk-fast, unless it 
 were in a, case of absolute necessity, for which he always charged 
 sixpence each shoe." The most important part of this communica- 
 tion, in the opinion of the speaker, made a very slight impression 
 on the hearer, who only internally wondered what college this 
 veterinary professor belonged to ; not aware that the word was 
 used to denote any person who pretended to uncommon sanctity of 
 faith and manner. 
 
 As they entered the village of Cairnvreckan, they speedily dis- 
 tinguished the smith's house. Being also 3. public, it was two stories 
 high, and proudly reared its crest, covered with grey slate, above 
 the thatched hovels by which it was surrounded. The adjoining 
 smithy betokened none of the Sabbatical silence and repose which 
 Ebenezer had augured from the sanctity of his friend. On the con- 
 trary, hammer clashed and anvil rang, the bellows groaned, and the 
 whole apparatus of Vulcan appeared to be in full activity. Nor 
 was the labour of a rural and pacific nature. The master smith, 
 benempt, as his sign intimated, John Mucklewrath, with two assist- 
 ants, toiled busily in arranging, repairing, and furbishing old 
 muskets, pistols, and swords, which lay scattered around his work- 
 shop in military confusion. The open shed, containing the forge^ 
 was crowded with persons who came and went as if receiving and 
 communicating important news ; and a single glance at the aspect 
 of the people who traversed the street in haste, or stood assembled 
 in groups, with eyes elevated, and hands uplifted, announced that 
 some extraordinary intelligence was agitating the pubhc mind of 
 the municipaUty of Cairnvreckan. "There is some news," said 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 i8g 
 
 mine host of the Candlestick, pushing his lantern-jawed visage and 
 baa-e-boned nag rudely forward into the crowd — " there is some 
 news ; and if it please my Creator, I will forthwith obtain speirings 
 thereof." 
 
 Waverley, with better regulated curiosity than his attendant's, 
 dismounted, and gave his horse to a boy who stood idling near. It 
 arose, perhaps, from the shyness of his character in early youth, 
 that he felt dislike at applying to a stranger even for casual infor- 
 mation, without previously glancing at his physiognomy and 
 appearance. While he looked about in order to select the person 
 with whom he would most willingly hold communication, the buzz 
 around saved him in some degree the trouble of interrogatories. 
 The names of Lochiel, Clanronald, Glengarry, and other distin- 
 guished Highland Chiefs, among whom Vich Ian Vohr v.-as re- 
 peatedly mentioned, were as familiar in men's mouths as household 
 words ; and from the alarm generally expressed, he easily conceived 
 that their descent in*o the Lowlands, at the head of their armed 
 tribes, had either already taken place, or was instantly appre- 
 hended. 
 
 Ere Waverley could ask particulars, a strong, large-boned, hard- 
 featured woman, about forty, dressed as if her clothes had been 
 flung on with a pitchfork, her cheeks flushed with a scarlet red 
 where they were not smutted with soot and lamp-black, jostled 
 through the crowd, and, brandishing high a child of two years old, 
 which she danced in her arms, without regard to its screams of 
 terror, sang forth, with all her might, — 
 
 " Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling, 
 Charlie is my darling, 
 
 The young Chevalier ! " 
 
 " D'ye hear what's come ower ye now," continued the virago, 
 " ye whingeing Whig carles ? D'ye hear wha's coming to cow yer 
 cracks ? 
 
 ' Little wot ye wha's coming, 
 Little wot ye wha's coming, 
 
 A' the wild Macraws are coming. ' " 
 
 The Vulcan of Cairnvreckan, who acknowledged his Venus in 
 this exulting Bacchante, regarded her with a grim and ire-fore- 
 boding countenance, while some of the senators of the village 
 hastened to interpose. " Whisht, gudewife ; is this a time, or is this a 
 day, to be singing your ranting fule sangs in ?-^a time when the wine 
 of wrath is poured out without mixture in the cup of indignation, 
 and a dav when the land should give testimony against popery, 
 
190 
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 and prelacy, and quakerism, and independency, and supremacy, 
 and erastianism, and antinomianism, and a' the errors of the 
 church ? " 
 
 " And that's a' your Whiggery," re-echoed the Jacobite heroine : 
 "that's a' your Whiggery, and your presbytery, ye cut-lugged, 
 graning carles ! What ! d'ye think the lads wi' the kilts will care 
 for yer synods and yer presbyteries, and yer buttock-mail, and yer 
 stool o' repentence ? Vengeance on the black face o't ! Mony an 
 honester woman's been set upon it than streeks doon beside ony 
 Whig in the country. I mysell "— — - 
 
 Here John Mucklewrath, who dreaded her entering upon a detail 
 of personal experience, interposed his matrimonial authority. " Gae 
 
 hame, and be d (that I should say sae), and put on the sowens 
 
 for supper." 
 
 " And you, ye doil'd dotard," replied his gentle helpmate, her 
 wrath, which Had hitherto wandered abroad over the whole assembly, 
 being at once and violently impelled into its natural channel, ''■ye 
 stand there hammering dog-heads for fules that will never snap them 
 at a Highlandman, instead of earning bread for your family, and 
 shoeing this winsome young gentleman's horse that's just come frae 
 the north ! I'se warrant him nane of your whingeing King George 
 folk, but a gallant Gordon, at the least o' him." 
 
 The eyes of the assembly were now turned upon Waverley, who 
 took the opportunity to beg the smith to shoe his guide's horse with 
 all speed, as he wished to proceed on his journey ; — for he had 
 heard enough to make him sensible that there would be danger in 
 delaying long in this place. The smith's eyes rested on him with 
 a look of displeasure and suspicion, not lessened by the eagerness 
 with which his wife enforced Waverley's mandate. " D'ye hear 
 what the weel-favoured young gentleman says, ye drunken ne'er-do- 
 good?" 
 
 " And what may your name be, sir ? " quoth Mucklewrath. 
 
 " It is of no consequence to you, my friend, provided I pay your 
 labour." 
 
 " But it may be of consequence to the state, sir," replied an old 
 farmer, smelling strongly of whisky and peat-smoke ; " and I doubt 
 we maun delay your journey till you have seen the Laird." 
 
 "You certainly," said Waverley, haughtily, "will find it both 
 difficult and dangerous to detain me, unless you can produce some 
 proper authority.'' 
 
 There was a pause and a whisper among the crowd — " Secretary 
 Murray;" "Lord Lewis Gordon;" "Maybe the Chevalier him- 
 sell ! " Such were the surmises that passed hurriedly among them, 
 and there was obviously an increased disposition to resist Waver- 
 
WAVERLEY. ig^ 
 
 ley's departure. He attempted to argue mildly with them, but his 
 voluntary ally, Mrs. Mucklewrath, broke in upon and drowned his 
 expostulations, taking his part with an abusive violence, which was 
 all set down to Edward's account by those on whom it was bestowed. 
 " Ye'll stop ony gentleman that's the Prince's freend ? " for she too, 
 though with other feehngs, had adopted the general opinion respect- 
 ing Waverley. " I daur ye to touch him," spreading abroad her 
 long and muscular fingers, garnished with claws which a vulture 
 might have envied. " I'll set my ten commandments in the face o' 
 the first loon that lays a finger on him." 
 
 "Gae hame, gudewife," quoth the farmer aforesaid; "it wad 
 better set yod to be nursing the gudeman's bairns than to be deav- 
 ing us here." 
 
 "His bairns ! " retorted the amazon, regarding her husband with 
 a grin of ineffable contempt—" His bairns ! 
 
 " O gin ye were dead, gudeman. 
 
 And a green turf on your head, gudeman ! 
 Then I would ware my widowhood 
 Upon a ranting Highlandman." 
 
 This canticle, which excited a suppressed titter among the younger' 
 part of the audience, totally overcame the patience of the taunted 
 man of the anvil. " Deil be in me but I'll put this het gad down 
 her throat ! " cried he, in an ecstasy of wrath, snatching a bar from 
 the forge ; and he might have executed his threat, had he not been 
 withheld by a part of the mob, while the rest endeavoured to force 
 the termagant out of his presence. 
 
 Waverley meditated a retreat in the confusion, but his horse was 
 nowhere to be seen. At length he observed, at some distance, his 
 faithful attendant, Ebenezer, who, as soon as he had perceived the 
 turn matters were likely to take, had withdrawn both horses from 
 the press, and, mounted on the one, and holding the other, answered 
 the loud and repeated calls of Waverley for his horse. " Na, na 1 
 if ye are nae friend to kirk and the king, and are detained as siccan 
 a person, ye maun answer to honest men of the country for breach 
 of contract ; and I maun keep the naig and the walise for damage 
 and expense, in respect my horse and mysell will lose to-morrow's 
 da/s-wark, besides the afternoon preaching." 
 
 Edward, out of patience, hemmed in and hustled by the rabble on 
 every side, and every moment expecting personal violence, resolvecf 
 to try measures of intimidation, and at length drew a pocket-pistol, 
 threatening, on the one hand, to shoot whomsoever dared to stop 
 him, and, on the other, menacing Ebenezer with a similar doom, 
 if he stirred a foot with the horses. The sapient Partridge says, 
 
iga WAVERLEY. 
 
 that one man with a pistol is equal to a hundred unanned, because, 
 though he can shoot but one of the multitude, yet no one knows but 
 that he himself maybe that luckless individual. The levy en masse 
 of Cairnvreckan would therefore probably have given way, nor 
 would Ebenezer, whose natural paleness had waxed three shades 
 more cadaverous, have ventured to dispute a mandate so enfoi-ced, 
 had not the Vulcan of the village, eager to discharge upon some 
 more worthy object the fury which his helpmate had provoked, and 
 not ill-satisfied to find such an object in Waverley, rushed at him 
 with the red-hot bar of iron, with such determination as made 
 the discharge of his pistol an act of self-defence. The unfortunate 
 man fell ; and while Edward, thrilled with a natural horror at the 
 incident, neither had presence of mind to unsheathe his sword nor 
 to draw his remaining pistol, the populace threw themselves upon 
 him, disarmed him, and were about to use him with great violence, 
 when the appearance of a venerable clergyman, the pastor of the 
 parish, put a curb on their fury. 
 
 This worthy man (none of the Goukthrapples or Rentowels) 
 maintained his character with the common people, although he 
 preached the practical fruits of Christian faith, as well as its 
 abstract tenets, and was respected by the higher orders, notwith- 
 standing he declined soothing their speculative errors by convert- 
 ing the pulpit of the gospel into a school of heathen morality. Per- 
 haps it is owing to this mixture of faith and practice in his doctrine, 
 that, although his memory has formed a sort of era in the annals 
 of Cairnvreckan, so that the parishioners, to denote what befell 
 Sixty Years since, still say it happened " in good Mr. Morton's 
 time," I have never been able to discover which he belonged to, 
 the evangelical, or the moderate party in the kirk. Nor do I hold 
 the circumstance of much moment, since, in my own remembrance, 
 the one was headed by an Erskine, the other by a Robertson.* 
 
 Mr. Morton had been alarmed by the discharge of the pistol, 
 and the increasing hubbub around the smithy. His first attention, 
 after he had directed the bystanders to detain Waverley, but to 
 abstain from injuring him, was turned to the body of Mucklewrath, 
 over which his wife, in a revulsion of feeling, was weeping, howling, 
 and tearing her elf-locks, in a state little short of distraction. On 
 raising up the smith, the first discovery was, that he was alive ; 
 and the next, that he was likely to live as long as if he had never 
 heard the report of a pistol in his life. He had made a narrow 
 escape, however ; the bullet had grazed his head, and stunned him 
 for a moment or two, which trance terror and confusion of spirit 
 had prolonged somewhat longer. He now arose to demand ven- 
 geance on the person- of Waverley, and with difficulty acquiesced 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 193 
 
 in the proposal of Mr. Morton, that he should be carried before the 
 Laird, as a justice of peace, and placed at his disposal. The rest 
 of the assistants unanimously agreed to the measure recommended ; 
 even Mrs. Mucklewrath, who had begun to recover from hei- 
 hysterics, whimpered forth, " She wadna say naething against what 
 the minister proposed ; he was e'en ower gude for his trade, and 
 she hoped to sec him wi' a dainty decent bishop's gown on his 
 back ; a comelier sight than your Geneva cloaks and bands, I wis." 
 All controversy being thus laid aside, Waverley, escorted by the 
 whole inhabitants of the village who were not bed-ridden, was 
 conducted to the house of Cairnvreckan, which was about half a 
 mile distant. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 AN EXAMINATION. 
 
 Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, an elderly gentleman, who 
 had spent his youth in the military service, received Mr. Morton 
 with great kindness, and our hero with civility, which the equivocal 
 circumstances wherein Edward was placed rendered constrained 
 and distant. 
 
 The nature of the smith's hurt was inquired into, and as the 
 actual injury was likely to prove trifling, and the circumstances in 
 which it was received rendered the infliction, on Edward's part, 
 a natural act of self-defence, the Major conceived he might dismiss 
 that matter, on Waverley's depositing in his hands a small sum for 
 the benefit of the wounded person. 
 
 " I could wish, sir," continued the Major, " that my duty termi- 
 nated here ; but it is necessary that we should have some further 
 inquiry into the cause of your journey through the country at this 
 unfortunate and distracted time." 
 
 Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks now stood forth, and communicated 
 to the magistrate all he knew or suspected, from the reserve of 
 Waverley, and the evasions of Galium Beg. The horse upon 
 which Edward rode, he said he knew to belong to Vich Ian Vohr, 
 though he dared not tax Edward's former attendant with the fact, 
 lest he should have his house and stables burnt over his head some 
 night by that godless gang, the Mac-Ivors. He concluded by 
 exaggerating his own services to kirk and state, as having been the 
 means, under God (as he modestly qualified the assertion), of 
 attaching this suspicious and formidable delinquent. He intimated 
 hopes of future reward, and of instant reimbursement for loss of 
 
194 
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 time, and even of character, by travelling on the state business on 
 the fast-day. 
 
 To this Major Melville answered, with great composure, that so 
 far from claiming any merit in this affair, Mr. Cruickshanks ought 
 to deprecate the imposition of a very heavy fine for neglecting to 
 lodge, in terms of the recent proclamation, an account with the 
 nearest magistrate of any stranger who came to his inn ; that, as 
 Mr. Cruickshanks boasted so much of religion and loyalty, he 
 should not impute this conduct to disaffection, but only suppose 
 that his zeal for kirk and state had been lulled asleep by the oppor- 
 tunity of charging a stranger with double horse-hire ; that, however, 
 feeling himself incompetent to decide singly upon the conduct of a 
 person of such importance, he should reserve it for consideration 
 of the next quarter-sessions. Now our history for the present 
 saith no more of him of the Candlestick, who wended dolorous and 
 malcontent back to his own dwelling. 
 
 Major Melville then commanded the villagers to return to their 
 homes, excepting two, who officiated as constables, and whom he 
 directed to wait below. The apartment was thus cleared of. every 
 person but Mr. Morton, whom the Major invited to remain ; a sort 
 of factor, who acted as clerk ; and Waverley himself There 
 ensued a painful and embarrased pause, till Major Melville, looking 
 upon Waverley with much compassion, and often consulting 
 a paper or memorandum which he held in his hand, requested to 
 know his name. — " Edward Waverley." 
 
 " I thought so ; late of the — — dragoons, and nephew of Sir 
 Everard Waverley of Waverley-Honour? " 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Young gentleman, I am extremely sorry that this painful duty 
 has fallen to my lot." 
 
 " Duty, Major Melville, renders apologies superfluous." 
 
 " True, sir ; permit me, therefore, to ask you how your time has 
 been disposed of since you obtained leave of absence from j'our 
 regiment, several weeks ago, until the present moment ? " 
 
 " My reply," said Waverley, " to so general a question must be 
 guided by the nature of the charge which renders it necessary. I 
 request to loiow what that charge is, and upon what authority 
 I am forcibly detained to reply to it ?" 
 
 "The charge, Mr. Waverley, I grieve to say, is of a very high 
 nature, and affects your character both as a soldier and a subject. 
 In the former capacitj', you are charged with spreading mutiny and 
 rebellion among the men you commanded, and setting them the 
 example of desertion, by prolonging your own absence from the 
 regiment, contrary to the express orders of your commanding- 
 
WAVERLEY. 135 
 
 officer. The civil crime of which you stand accused is that of high 
 treason, and levying war against the king, the highest delinquency 
 of which a subject can be guilty.'' 
 
 " And by what authority am I detained to reply to such heinous 
 calumnies ?" 
 
 " By one which you must not dispute, nor I disobey." 
 
 He handed to Waverley a warrant from the Supreme Criminal 
 Court of Scotland, in full form, for apprehending and securing the 
 person of Edwai'd Waverley, Esq., suspected of treasonable 
 practices and other high crimes and misdemeanours. 
 
 The astonishment which Waverley expressed at this communi- 
 cation was imputed by Major IVlelville to conscious guilt, while 
 Mr. Morton was rather disposed to construe it into the surprise of 
 innocence unjustly suspected. There was something true in both 
 conjectures ; for although Edward's mind acquitted him of the 
 crime with which he was charged, yet a hasty review of his own 
 conduct convinced him he might have great difficulty in estab- 
 lishing his innocence to the satisfaction of others. 
 
 " It is a very painful part of this painful business,'' said Major 
 Melville, after a pause, " that, under so grave a charge, I must 
 necessarily request to see such papers as you have on your person." 
 
 " You shall, sir, without reserve," said Edward, throwing his 
 pocket-book and memorandums upon the table ; " there is but one 
 with which I could wish you would dispense." 
 
 " I am afraid, Mr. Waverley, I can indulge you with no reser- 
 vation." 
 
 " You shall see it then, sir ; and as it can be of no service, I beg 
 it may be returned." 
 
 He took from his bosom the lines he had that morning received, 
 and presented them with the envelope. The Major perused them 
 in silence, and directed his clerk to make a copy of them. He 
 then wrapped the copy in the envelope, and placing it on the table 
 before him, returned the original to Waverley, with an air of 
 melancholy gravity. 
 
 After indulging the prisoner, for such our hero must now be 
 considered, with what he thought a reasonable time for reflection, 
 Major Melville resumed his examination, premising, that as 
 Mr. Waverley seemed to object to general questions, his interroga- 
 tories should be as specific as his information permitted. He 
 then proceeded in his investigation, dictating as he went on, the 
 import of the questions and answers to the amanuensis, by whom 
 it was written down. 
 
 " Did Mr. Waverley know one Humphry Houghton, a non- 
 commissioned officer in Gardiner's dragoons ? " 
 
 N 2 
 
196 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " Certainly ; lie was sergeant of my troop, and son of a tenant 
 of my uncle." 
 
 " Exactly— and had a considerable share of your confidence, and 
 an influence among his comrades ? " 
 
 " I had never occasion to repose confidence in a person of his 
 description," answered Waverley. " I favoured Sergeant Houghton 
 as a clever, active young fellow, and I believe his fellow-soldiers 
 respected him accordingly." 
 
 " But you used through this man,'' answered Major Melville, " to 
 communicate with such of your troop as were recruited upon 
 Waverley-Honour ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; the poor fellows, finding themselves in a regiment 
 chiefly composed of Scotch or Irish, looked up to me in any of 
 their little distresses, and naturally made their countryman, and 
 sergeant, their spokesman on such occasions." 
 
 " Sergeant Houghton's influence," continued the Major, " ex- 
 tended, then, particularly over those soldiers who followed you to 
 the regiment from your uncle's estate ? " 
 
 " Surely ; — but what is that to the present purpose ? " 
 
 " To that I am just coming, and I beseech your candid reply. 
 Have you, since leaving the regiment, held any correspondence, 
 direct or indirect, with this Sergeant Houghton?" 
 
 " I ! — I hold correspondence with a man of his rank and situa- 
 tion ! — How, or for what purpose ? " 
 
 " That you are to explain ;— but did you not, for example, send 
 to him for some books .'' " 
 
 "You remind me of a trifling commission," said Waverley, 
 "which I gave Sergeant Houghton, because my servant could 
 not read. I do recollect I bade him, by letter, select some 
 books, of which I sent him a list, and send them to me at TuUy- 
 Veolan." 
 
 " And of what description were those books ? " 
 
 " They related almost entirely to elegant literature ; they were 
 designed for a lady's perusal." 
 
 " Were there not, Mr. Waverley, treasonable tracts and pamphlets 
 among them ? " 
 
 " There were some political treatises, into which I hardly 
 looked. They had been sent to me by the officiousness of a kind 
 friend, whose heart is more to be esteemed than his prudence or 
 political sagacity : they seemed to be dull compositions." 
 
 " That friend," continued the persevering inquirer, " was a 
 Mr. Pembroke, a nonjuring clergyman, the author of two treason- 
 able works, of which the manuscripts were found among your 
 baggage?" 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 197 
 
 " But of whicli I give you my honour as a gentleman," replied 
 Waverley, " I never read six pages." 
 
 " I am not your judge, Mr. Waverley ; your examination will be 
 transmitted elsewhere. And now to proceed — Do you know a 
 person that passes by the name of Wily Will, or Will Ruthven.?" 
 
 " I never heard of such a name till this moment." 
 
 " Did you never, through such a person, or any other person, 
 communicate with Sergeant Humphry Houghton, instigating him 
 to desert, with as many of his comrades as he could seduce to join 
 him, and unite with the Highlanders and other rebels now in arms 
 under the command of the young Pretender?" 
 
 " I assure you I am not only entirely guiltless of the plot you 
 have laid to my charge, but I detest it from the very bottom of my 
 soul, nor would I be guilty of such treachery to gain a throne, 
 either for myself or any other man alive." 
 
 " Yet when I consider this envelope in the handwriting of one of 
 those misguided gentlemen who are now in arms against their 
 country, and the verses which it enclosed, I cannot but find some 
 analogy between the enterprise I have mentioned and the exploit 
 of Wogan, which the writer seems to expect you should imitate." 
 
 Waverley was struck with the coincidence, but denied that the 
 wishes or expectations of the letter-writer were to be regarded as 
 proofs of a charge otherwise chimerical. 
 
 " But, if I am rightly informed, your time was spent, during your 
 absence from the regiment, between the house of this Highland 
 Chieftain, and that of Mr. Bradwardine, of Bradwardine, also in 
 arms for this unfortunate cause .'' " 
 
 " I do not mean to disguise it ; but I do deny, most resolutely, 
 being privy to any of their designs against the Government." 
 
 " You do not, however, I presume, intend to deny, that you 
 attended your host Glennaquoich to a rendezvous, where, under 
 a pretence of a general hunting match, most of the accomplices of 
 his treason were assembled to concert measures for taking arms ? " 
 
 " I acknowledge having been at such a meeting," said Waverley ; 
 " but I neither heard nor saw any thing which could give it the 
 character you affix to it." 
 
 "From thence you proceeded," continued the magistrate, "with 
 Glennaquoich and a part of his clan, to join the army of the young 
 Pretender, and returned, after having paid your homage to him, to 
 discipline and arm the remainder, and unite them to his bands on 
 their way southward ? " 
 
 "I never went with Glennaquoich on such an errand. I never 
 so much as heard that the person whom you mention was in the 
 country." 
 
igS WAVERLEY. 
 
 He then detailed the history of his misfortune at the hunting 
 match, and added, that on his return he found himself suddenly 
 deprived of his commission, and did not deny that he then, for the 
 hrst time, observed symptoms which indicated a disposition in the 
 Highlanders to take arms ; but added, that having no inclination 
 to join their cause, and no longer any reason for remaining in 
 Scotland, he was now on his return to his native country, to which 
 he had been summoned by those who had a right to direct his 
 motions, as Major Melville would perceive from the letters on the 
 table. 
 
 Major Melville accordingly pemsed the letters of Richard 
 Waverley, of Sir Everard, and of Aunt Rachel ; but the inferences 
 he drew from them were different from what Waverley expected 
 They held the language of discontent with Government, threw out 
 no obscure hints of revenge ; and that of poor Aunt Rachel, which 
 plainly asserted the justice of the Stuart cause, was held to contain 
 the open avowal of what the others only ventured to insinuate. 
 
 " Permit me another question, Mr. Waverley," said Major 
 Melville. " Did you not receive repeated letters from your com- 
 manding-officer, warning you and commanding you to return to 
 your post, and acquainting you with the use made of your name to 
 spread discontent among your soldiers ? " 
 
 " I never did, Major Melville. One letter, indeed, I received 
 from him, containing a civil intimation of his wish that I would 
 employ my leave of absence otherwise than in constant residence 
 at Bradwardine, as to which, I own, I thought he was not called on 
 to interfere ; and, finally, I received, on the same day on which I 
 observed myself superseded in the Gazette, a second letter from 
 Colonel Gardiner, commanding me to join the regiment, an order 
 which, owing to my absence, already mentioned and accounted for, 
 1 received too late to be obeyed. If there were any intermediate 
 letters, and certainly from the Colonel's high character I think it 
 pirobable that there were, they have never reached me." 
 
 " I have omitted, Mr. Waverley," continued Major Melville, "to 
 inquire after a matter of less consequence, but which has never- " 
 theless been publicly talked of to your disadvantage. It is said, 
 that a treasonable toast having been proposed in your hearing 
 and presence, you, holding his majesty's commission, suffered the 
 task of resenting it to devolve upon another gentleman of the 
 company. This, sir, cannot be charged against you in a court of 
 justice ; but if, as I am informed, the officers of your regiment 
 requested an explanation of such a rumour, as a gentleman and 
 soldier, I cannot but be surprised that you did not afford it to 
 them." 
 
WAVERLEY. igg 
 
 This was too much. Beset and pressed on every hand by 
 accusations, in which gross falsehoods were blended with such cir- 
 cumstances of truth as could not fail to procure them credit, 
 
 alone, unfriended, and in a strange land, Waverley almost gave up 
 his life and honour for lost, and, leaning his head upon his hand, 
 resolutely refused to answer any further questions, since the fair 
 and candid statement he had already made had only served to 
 furnish arms against him. 
 
 Without expressing either surprise or displeasure at the change 
 in Waverleys manner, Major Melville proceeded composedly to 
 put several other queries to him. "What does it avail me to 
 answer you ? " said Edward, sullenly. " You appear convinced of 
 my guilt, and wrest every reply I have made, to support your own 
 preconceived opinion. Enjoy your supposed triumph, then, and 
 torment me no further. If I am capable of the cowardice and 
 treachery your charge burdens me with, I am not worthy to be 
 believed in any reply I can make to you. If I am not deserving 
 of your suspicion — and God and my own conscience bear evidence 
 with me that it is so — then I do not see why I should, by my candour, 
 lend my accusers arms against my innocence. There is no reason 
 I should answer a word more, and I am determined to abide by 
 this resolution." And again he resumed his posture of sullen and 
 determined silence. 
 
 " Allow me," said the magistrate, " to remind you of one reason 
 that may suggest the propriety of a candid and open confession. 
 The inexperience of youth, Mr. Waverley, lays it open to the plans 
 of the more designing and artful ; and one of your friends at least 
 — I mean Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich — ranks high in the latter 
 class, as, from your apparent ingenuousness, youth, and unacquaint- 
 ance with the manners of the Highlands, I should be disposed to 
 place you among the former. In such a case, a false step, or error 
 like yours, which I shall be happy to consider as involuntary, may 
 be atoned for, and I would willingly act as intercessor. But as you 
 must necessarily be acquainted with the strength of the individuals 
 in this country who have assumed arms, with their means, and with 
 their plans, I must expect you will merit this mediation on my part 
 by a frank and candid avowal of all that has come to your know- 
 ledge upon these heads. In which case, I think I can venture to 
 promise that a very short personal restraint will be the only ill con- 
 sequence that can arise from your accession to these unhappy 
 intrigues." 
 
 Waverley listened with great composure until the end of this 
 exhortation, when, springing from his seat, with an energy he had 
 not yet displayed, he repUed, " Major Melville, since that is your 
 
200 WAVERLEY. 
 
 name, I have hitherto answered your questions with candour, or 
 declined them with temper, because their import concerned myself 
 alone ; but as you presume to esteem me mean enough to com- 
 mence infoi'mer against others, who received me, whatever may 
 be their public misconduct, as a guest and friend, — I declare to you 
 that I consider your questions as an insult infinitely more offensive 
 than your calumnious suspicions ; and that, since my hard fortune 
 permits me no other mode of resenting them than by verbal 
 defiance, you should sooner have my heart out of my bosom, than 
 a single syllable of information on subjects which I could only 
 become acquainted with in the full confidence of unsuspecting 
 hospitality." 
 
 Mr. Morton and the Major looked at each other; and the 
 former, who, in the course of the examination, had been repeatedly 
 troubled with a sorry rheum, had recourse to his snuff-box and his 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " Mr. Waverley," said the Major, " my present situation prohibits 
 me alike from giving or receiving offence, and I will not protract a 
 discussion which approaches to either. I am afraid I must sign a 
 warrant for detaining you in custody, but this house shall for the 
 present be your prison. I fear I cannot persuade you to accept a 
 share of our supper ? — (Edward shook his head) — ^but I will order 
 refreshments in your apartment." 
 
 Our hero bowed and withdrew, under guard of the officers of 
 justice, to a small but handsonie room, where, declining all offers 
 of food or wine, he flung himself on the bed, and, stupified by the 
 harassing events and mental fatigue of this miserable day, he 
 sunk into a deep and heavy slumber. This was more than he 
 himself could have expected ; but it is mentioned of the North- 
 American Indians, when at the stake of torture, that on the least 
 intermission of agony, they will sleep until the fire is applied to 
 awaken them. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A CONFERENCE, AND THE CONSEQUENCE. 
 
 Major Melville had detained Mr. Morton during his 
 examination of Waverley, both because he thought he might derive 
 assistance from his practical good sense and approved loyalty, 
 and also because it was agreeable to have a witness of unim- 
 peached candour and veracity to proceedings which touched the 
 honour and safety of a young Englishman of high rank and family, 
 "nd the expectant heir of a large fortune. Every step he knew 
 
WAVERLEY. 2oj 
 
 would be rigorously canvassed, and it was his business to place the 
 justice and integrity of his own conduct beyond the limits of' 
 question. 
 
 When Waverley retired, the laird and clergyman of Cairnvreckan 
 sat down m silence to their evening meal. While the servants 
 were in attendance, neither chose to say anything on the cir- 
 cumstances which occupied their minds, and neither felt it easy 
 to speak upon any other. The youth and apparent frankness of 
 Waverley stood in strong contrast to the shades of suspicion which 
 darkened around him, and he had a sort of naiVetd and opennesy 
 of demeanour, that seemed to belong to one unhackneyed in the 
 ways of intrigue, and which pleaded highly in his favour. 
 
 _ Each mused over the particulars of the examination, and each 
 viewed it through the medium of his own feelings. Both were 
 men of ready and acute talent, and both were equally competent 
 to combine various parts of evidence, and to deduce from them 
 the necessary conclusions. But the wide difference of their habits 
 and education often occasioned a great discrepancy in their 
 respective deductions from admitted premises. 
 
 Major Melville had been versed in camps and cities ; he was 
 vigilant by profession, and cautious from experience ; had met 
 with much evil in the world, and therefore, though himself an 
 upright magistrate and an honourable man, his opinions of others 
 were always strict, and sometimes unjustly severe. Mr. Morton, 
 on the contrary, had passed from the literary pursuits of a college, 
 where he was beloved by his companions, and respected by his 
 teachers, to the ease and simplicity of his present charge, where his 
 opportunities of witnessing evil were few, and never dwelt upon but 
 in order to encourage repentance and amendment ; and where 
 the love and respect of his parishioners repaid his affectionate 
 zeal in their behalf, by endeavouring to disguise from him what 
 they knew would give him the most acute pain, namely, 
 their own occasional transgressions of the duties which it was 
 the business of his life to recommend. Thus it was a common 
 saying in the neighbourhood (though both were popular characters), 
 that the laird knew only the ill in the parish, and the minister only 
 the good. 
 
 A love of letters, though kept in subordination to his clerical 
 studies and duties, also distinguished the pastor of Cairnvreckan, 
 and had tinged his mind in earlier days with a slight feeling of 
 romance, which no after incidents of real life had entirely dissipated. 
 The early loss of an amiable young woman, whom he had married 
 for love, and who was quickly followed to the grave by an only 
 child, had also served, even after the lapse of many years, to soften 
 
202 WAVERLEY. 
 
 a disposition naturally mild and contemplative. His feelings on 
 the present occasion were therefore likely to differ from those of 
 the severe disciplinarian, strict magistrate, and distrustful man of 
 the world. 
 
 When the servants had withdrawn, the silence of both parties 
 continued, until Major Melville, filling his glass, and pushing the 
 bottle to Mr. Morton, commenced. 
 
 " A distressing affair this, Mr. Morton. I fear this youngster has 
 brought himself within the compass of a halter." 
 
 " God forbid ! " answered the clergyman. 
 
 " Marry, and amen," said the temporal magistrate ; " but I 
 think even your merciful logic will hardly deny the conclusion." 
 
 " Surely, Major," answered the clergyman, " I should hope it 
 might be averted, for aught we have heard to-night ? " 
 
 " Indeed ! " replied Melville. " But, my good parson, you are 
 one of those who would communicate to every criminal the benefit 
 of clergy." 
 
 "Unquestionably I would: Mercy and long-suffering are the 
 grounds of the doctrine I am called to teach." 
 
 " True, religiously speaking ; but mercy to a criminal may be 
 gross injustice to the community. I don't speak of this young 
 fellow in particular, who I heartily wish may be able to clear 
 himself, for I like both his modesty and his spirit. But I fear he 
 has rushed upon his fate." 
 
 "And why? Hundreds of misguided gentlemen are now in 
 arms against the Government, many, doubtless, upon principles 
 which education and early prejudice have gilded with the names of 
 patriotism and heroism ; — Justice, when she selects her victims 
 from such a multitude (for surely all will not be destroyed), must 
 regard the moral motive. He whom ambition, or hope of personal 
 advantage, has led to disturb the peace of a well-ordered 
 government, let him fall a victim to the laws ; but surely youth, 
 misled by the wild visions of chivalry and imaginai-y loyalty, may 
 plead for pardon." 
 
 " If visionary chivalry and imaginary loyalty come within the 
 predicament of high treason," replied the magistrate, " I know no 
 court in Chi-istendom, my dear Mr. Morton, where they can sue out 
 their Habeas Corpus." 
 
 " But I cannot see that this youth's guilt is at all established to 
 my satisfaction," said the clergyman. 
 
 " Because your good-nature blinds your good sense," replied 
 Major Melville. " Observe now : This young man, descended of a 
 family of hereditary Jacobites, his uncle the leader of the Tory 
 interest in the county of , his father a disobliged and discon- 
 
WAVERLEY. 203 
 
 tented courtier, his tutor a non-juror, and the author of two treason- 
 able volumes — this youth, I say, enters into Gardiner's dragoons, 
 bringing with him a body of young fellows from his uncle's estate, 
 who have not stickled at avowing, in their way, the high-church 
 principles they learned at Waverley-Honour, in their disputes with 
 their comrades. To these young men Waverley is unusually atten- 
 tive ; they are supplied with money beyond a soldier's wants, and 
 inconsistent with his discipline ; and are under the management of 
 a favourite sergeant, through whom they hold an unusually close 
 communication with their captain, and affect to consider themselves 
 as independent of the other officers, and superior to their com- 
 rades." 
 
 ''All this, my dear Major, is the natural consequence of their 
 attachment to their young landlord, and of their finding themselves 
 in a regiment levied chiefly in the north of Ireland and the west of 
 Scotland, and of course among comrades disposed to quarrel with 
 them, both as Englishmen, and as members of the Church of 
 England." 
 
 " Well said, parson ! " replied the magistrate. — " I would some of 
 your synod heard you — But let me go on. This young man obtains 
 leave of absence, goes to Tully-Veolan — the principles of the Baron 
 of Bradwardine are pretty well known, not to mention that this 
 lad's uncle brought him off in the year fifteen ; he engages there 
 in a brawl, in which he is said to have disgraced the commis- 
 sion he bore ; Colonel Gardiner writes to him, first mildly, then 
 more sharply — I think you will not doubt his having done so, since 
 he says so ; the mess invite him to explain the quarrel in which he 
 is said to have been involved ; he neither replies to his commander 
 nor his comrades. In the meanwhile, his soldiers become mutinous 
 and disorderly, and at length, when the rumour of this unhappy 
 rebellion becomes general, his favourite Sergeant Houghton, and 
 another fellow, are detected in correspondence with a French emis- 
 sary, accredited, as he says, by Captain Waverley, who urges him, 
 according to the men's confession, to desert with the troop and join 
 their captain, who was with Prince Charles. In the meanwhile 
 this trusty captain is, by his own admission, residing at Glenna- 
 quoich with the most active, subtle, and desperate Jacobite in 
 Scotland ; he goes with him at least as far as their famous hunting 
 rendezvous, and I fear a little farther. Meanwhile two other sum- 
 monses are sent him ; one warning him of the disturbances in his 
 troop, another peremptorily ordering him to repair to the regiment, 
 which, indeed, common sense might have dictated, when he 
 observed rebellion thickening all round him. He returns an abso- 
 lute refusal, and throws up his commission." 
 
204 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " He had been already deprived of it," said Mr. Morton. 
 
 "But he regrets," repHed Melville, "that the measure had antici- 
 pated his resignation. His baggage is seized, at his quarters, and 
 at TuUy-Veolan, and is found to contain a stock of pestilent jacobi- 
 tical pamphlets, enough to poison a whole country, besides the un- 
 printed lucubrations of his worthy friend and tutor, Mr. Pembroke." 
 
 " He says he never read them," answered the minister. 
 
 " In an ordinary case I should believe him," replied the magis- 
 trate, " for they are as stupid and pedantic in composition, as 
 mischievous in their tenets. But can you suppose anything but 
 value for the principles they maintain, would induce a young man 
 of his age to lug such trash about with him ? Then, when news 
 arrive of the approach of the rebels, he sets out in a sort of disguise, 
 refusing to tell his name ; and, if yon old fanatic tell truth, attended 
 by a very suspicious character, and mounted on a horse known to 
 have belonged to Glennaquoich, and bearing on his person letters 
 from his family expressing high rancour against the house of Bruns- 
 wick, and a copy of verses in praise of one Wogan, who abjured 
 the service of the Parliament to join the Highland insurgents, when 
 in arms to restore the house of Stuart, with a body of English 
 cavalry — the very counterpart of his own plot — and summed up 
 with a ' Go thou and do likewise,' from that loyal subject, and most 
 safe and peaceable character, Fergus Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich, 
 Vich Ian Vohr, and so forth. And, lastly," continued Major 
 Melville, warming in the detail of his arguments, " where do we 
 find this second edition of Cavalier Wogan ? Why, truly, in the 
 very track most proper for execution of his design, and pistolling 
 the first of the king's subjects who ventures to question his 
 intentions." 
 
 Mr. Morton prudently abstained from argument, which he per- 
 ceived would only harden the magistrate in his opinion, and merely 
 asked how he intended to dispose of the prisoner ? 
 
 " It is a question of some difficulty, considering the state of the 
 countiy," said Major Melville. 
 
 " Could you not detain him (being such a gentleman-like young 
 man) here in your own house, out of harm's way, till this storm 
 blow over ? " 
 
 " My good friend," said Major Melville, " neither your house nor 
 mine will be long out of harm's way, even were it legal to confine 
 him here. I have just learned that the commander-in-chief, who 
 marched into the Highlands to seek out and disperse the insur- 
 gents, has declined giving them battle at Corryarick, and marched 
 on northward with all the disposable force of Government to 
 Inverness, John-o'-Groat's. House, or the devil, for what I know, 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 205 
 
 leaving the road to the Low Country open and undefended to the 
 Highland army." 
 
 " Good God ! " said the clergyman. " Is the man a coward, a 
 traitor, or an idiot ? " 
 
 " None of the three, I believe," answered Melville. " Sir John 
 has the common-place courage of a common soldier, is honest 
 enough, does what he is commanded, and understands what is told 
 him, but is as fit to act for himself in circumstances of importance, 
 as I, my dear parson, to occupy your pulpit." 
 
 This important public intelligence naturally diverted the discourse 
 from Waverley for some time ; at length, however, the subject was 
 resumed. 
 
 " I beheve," said Major Melville, " that I must give this young 
 man in charge to some of the detached parties of armed volunteers, 
 who were lately sent out to overawe the disaffected districts. They 
 are now recalled towards Stirling, and a small body comes this 
 way to-morrow or next day, commanded by the westland man — 
 what's his name ? — You saw him, and said he was the very model 
 of one of Cromwell's military saints." 
 
 " Gilfillan, the Cameronian," answered Mr. Morton. " I wish 
 the young gentleman may be safe with him. Strange things are 
 done in the heat and hurry of minds in so agitating a crisis, and I 
 fear Gilfillan is of a sect which has suffered persecution without 
 learning mercy." 
 
 " He has only to lodge Mr. Waverley in Stirling Castle," said 
 the Major : " I will give strict injunctions to treat him well. 
 I really cannot devise any better mode for securing him, and 
 I fancy you would hardly advise me to encounter the responsibility 
 of setting him at liberty." 
 
 " But you will have no objection to my seeing him to-morrow in 
 private ? " said the minister. 
 
 " None, certainly ; your loyalty and character are my warrant. 
 But with what view do you make the request ? " 
 
 " Simply," rephed Mr. Morton, " to make the experiment whether 
 he may not be brought to communicate to me some circumstances 
 which may hereafter be useful to alleviate, if iiot to exculpate his 
 conduct." 
 
 The friends now parted and retired to rest, each fiUed with the 
 most anxious reflections on the state of the country. 
 
2o6 WAVERLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A CONFIDANT. 
 
 WAVERLEY awoke in the morning, from troubled dreams and 
 unrefreshing slumbers, to a full consciousness of the horrors of his 
 situation. How it might terminate he knew not. He might be 
 delivei"ed up to military law, which, in the midst of civil war, was 
 not likely to be scrupulous in the choice of its victims, or the 
 quality of the evidence. Nor did he feel much more comfortable 
 at the thoughts of a trial before a Scottish court of justice, where 
 he knew the laws and forms differed in many respects from those 
 of England, and had been taught to believe, however erroneously, 
 that the liberty and rights of the subject were less carefully 
 protected. A sentiment of bitterness rose in his mind against the 
 Government, which he considered as the cause of his embaiTass- 
 ment and peril, and he cursed internally his scrupulous rejection of 
 Mac-Ivor's invitation to accompany him to the field. 
 
 " Why did not I," he said to himself, "like other men of honour, 
 take the earliest opportunity to welcome to Britain the descendant 
 of her ancient kings, and lineal heir of her throne ? Why did not I 
 
 ' Unthread the rude eye of rebellion. 
 And welcome home again discarded faith. 
 Seek out Prince Charles, and fall befoi'e his feet ?' 
 
 AU that has been recorded of excellence and worth in the house of 
 Waverley has been founded upon their loyal faith to the house of 
 Stuart. From the interpretation which this Scotch magistrate has 
 put upon the letters of my uncle and father, it is plain that I ought 
 to have understood them as marshalling me to the course of my 
 ancestors ; and it has been my gross dulness, joined to the 
 obscurity of expression which they adopted for the sake of security, 
 that has confounded my judgment. Had I yielded to the first 
 generous impulse of indignation, when I learned that my honour 
 was practised upon how different had been my present situation ! 
 I had then been free and in arms, fighting, like my forefathers, for 
 love, for loyalty, and for fame. And now I am here, netted and in 
 the toils, at the disposal of a suspicious, stem, and cold-hearted 
 man, perhaps to be turned over to the solitude of a dungeon, or the 
 infamy of a public execution. O Fergus ! how- true has your 
 prophecy proved ; and how speedy, how very speedy, has been its 
 accomplishment ! " 
 
 While Edward was ruminating on these painful subjects of con- 
 templation, and very naturally, though not quite so justly, bestow- 
 
WAVERLEY. 207 
 
 ing^ upon the reigning dynasty that blame which was due to chance, 
 or, in part at least, to his own unreflecting conduct, Mr. Morton 
 availed himself of Major Melville's permission to pay him an early 
 visit. 
 
 Waverley's first impulse was to intimate a desire that he might 
 not be disturbed with questions or conversation ; but he suppressed 
 it upon observing the benevolent and reverend appearance of the 
 clergyman who had rescued him from the immediate violence of the 
 villagers. 
 
 " I believe, sir," said the unfortunate young man, " that in any 
 any other circumstances I should have had as much gratitude to 
 express to you as the safety of my life may be worth ; but such is 
 the present tumult of my mind, and such is my anticipation of what 
 I am yet likely to endure, that I can hardly offer you thanks for 
 your interposition." 
 
 Mr. Morton replied, " that, far from making any claim upon his 
 good opinion, his only wish and the sole purpose of his visit was to 
 find out the means of deserving it. My excellent friend. Major 
 Melville," he continued, "has feelings and duties as a soldier and 
 public functionary, by which I am not fettered ; nor can I always 
 coincide in opinions which he forms, perhaps with too little allow- 
 ance for the imperfections of human nature." He paused, and then 
 proceeded : "I do not intrude myself on your confidence, Mr. 
 Waverley, for the purpose of learning any circumstances, the know- 
 ledge of which can be prejudicial either to yourself or to others ; 
 but I own my earnest wish is, that you would intrust me with any 
 particulars which could lead to your exculpation. I can solemnly 
 assure you they will be deposited with a faithful, and, to the extent 
 of his limited powers, a zealous agent." 
 
 " You are, sir, I presume, a Presbyterian clergyman ?" — Mr. 
 Morton bowed — " Were I to be guided by the prepossessions of 
 education, I might distrust your friendly professions in my case ; but 
 I have observed that similar prejudices are nourished in this country 
 against your professional brethren of the Episcopal persuasion, and 
 I am willing to beheve them equally unfounded in both cases." 
 
 " Evil to him that thinks otherwise," said Mr. Morton, " or who 
 holds church government and ceremonies as the exclusive gage of 
 Christian faith or moral virtue." 
 
 " But," continued Waverley, " I cannot perceive why I should 
 trouble you with a detail of particulars, out of which, after revolving 
 them as carefully as possible in my recollection, 1 find myself unable 
 to explain much of what is charged against me. I know, iadeed, 
 that I am innocent, but I hardly see how I can hope to prove 
 myself so." 
 
2o8 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " It is for that very reason, Mr. Waverley/' said the clergyman, 
 " that I venture to solicit your confidence. My knowledge of indi- 
 viduals in this country is pretty general, and can upon occasion be 
 extended. Your situation will, I fear, preclude your taking those 
 active steps for recovering intelligence, or tracing imposture, which 
 I would willingly undertake in your behalf; and if you are not 
 benefited by my exertions, at least they cannot be prejudicial to you." 
 
 Waverley, after a few minutes' reflection, was convinced that his 
 reposing confidence in Mr. Morton, so far as he himself was con- 
 cerned, could hurt neither Mr. Bradwardine nor Fergus Mac-Ivor, 
 both of whom had openly assumed arms against the Government, 
 and that it might possibly, if the professions of his new friend cor- 
 responded in sincerity with the earnestness of his expression, be of 
 some service to himself. He therefore ran briefly over most of the 
 events with which the reader is already acquainted, suppressing his 
 attachment to Flora, and indeed neither mentioning her nor Rose 
 Bradwardine in the course of his narrative. 
 
 Mr. Morton seemed particularly struck with the account of 
 Waverley's visit to Donald Bean Lean. " I am glad," he said, " you 
 did not mention this circumstance to the Major. It is capable of 
 great misconstruction on the part of those who do not consider the 
 power of curiosity and the influence of romance as motives of youth- 
 ful conduct. When I was a young man like you, Mr. Waverley, any 
 such hair-brained expedition (I beg your pardon for the expression) 
 would have had inexpi'essible charms for me. But there are men 
 in the world who will not believe that danger and fatigue are often 
 incurred without any very adequate cause, and therefore who are 
 sometimes led to assign motives of action entirely foreign to the 
 truth. This man Bean Lean is renowned through the country as a 
 sort of Robin Hood, and the stories which are told of his address 
 and enterprise are the common tales of the winter fire-side. He 
 certainly possesses talents beyond the rude sphere in which he 
 moves ; and, being neither destitute of ambition nor encumbered 
 with scruples, he will probably attempt, by every means, to distin- 
 guish himself during the period of these unhappy commotions." 
 Mr. Morton then made a careful memorandum of the i^arious par- 
 ticulars of Waverley's interview with Donald Bean Lean, and the 
 other circumstances which he had communicated. 
 
 The interest which this good man seemed to take in his misfor- 
 tunes — above all, the full confidence he appeared to repose in his 
 innocence, had the natural effect of softening Edward's heart, 
 whom the coldness of Major MelvUle had taught to believe that the 
 world was leagued to oppress him. He shook Mr. Morton warmly 
 by the hand, and assuring him that his kindness and sympathy had 
 
WAVERLEY. jog 
 
 relieved his mind of a heavy load, told him, that whatever inight be 
 his own fate, he belonged to a family who had both gratitude and 
 the power of displaying it. The earnestness of his thanks called 
 drops to the eyes of the worthy clergyman, who was doubly inte- 
 rested in the cause for which he had volunteered his services, by 
 observing the genuine and undissembled feelings of his youno- 
 friend. ° 
 
 Edward now inquired if Mr. Morton knew what was likely to be 
 his destination. 
 
 "Stirling Castle," replied his friend; "and so far I am well 
 pleased for your sake, for the governor is a man of honour and 
 humanity. But I am more doubtful of your treatment upon the 
 road ; Major Melville is involuntarily obliged to intrust the custody 
 of your person to another." 
 
 " I am glad of it," answered Waverley. " I detest that cold- 
 blooded calculating Scotch magistrate. I hope he and I shall 
 never meet more : he had neither sympathy with my innocence nor 
 with my wretchedness ; and the petrifying accuracy with which he 
 attended to every form of civihty, while he tortured me by his 
 questions, his suspicions, and his inferences, was as tormenting as 
 the racks of the Inquisition. Do not vindicate him, my dear sir, 
 for that I cannot bear with patience ; tell me rather who is to have 
 the charge of so important a state prisoner as I am." 
 
 " I believe a person called GilfiUan, one of the sect who are 
 termed Cameronians." 
 
 " I never heard of them before." 
 
 " They claim," said the clergyman, " to represent the more strict 
 and severe Presbyterians, who, in Charles Second's and James 
 Second's days, refused to profit by the Toleration, or Indulgence, 
 as it was called, which was extended to others of that religion. 
 They held conventicles in the open fields, and being treated with 
 great violence and cruelty by the Scottish government, more than 
 once took arms during those reigns. They take their name from 
 their leader, Richard Cameron." 
 
 '' I recollect," said Waverley ; — " but did not the triumph of 
 Presbytery at the Revolution extinguish that sect ? " 
 
 " By no means," replied Morton ; " that great event fell yet far 
 short of what they proposed, which was nothing less than the com- 
 plete establishment of the Presbyterian Church, upon the grounds 
 of the old Solemn League and Covenant. Indeed, I believe they 
 scarce knew what they wanted ; but being a numerous body of 
 men, and not unacquainted with the use of arms, they kept them- 
 selves together as a separate party in the state, and at the time of 
 the Union had nearly formed a most unnatural league with their 
 
 o 
 
2IO WAVERLEY. 
 
 old enemies, the Jacobites, to oppose that important national 
 measure. Since that time the numbers have gradually diminished ; 
 but a good many are still to be found in the western counties, and 
 several, with a better temper than in 1707, have now taken arms 
 for Government. This person, whom they called Gifted GilfiUan, 
 has been long a leader among them, and now heads a small 
 party, which will pass here to-day, or to-morrow, on their march 
 towards Stirling, under whose escort Major Melville proposes you 
 shall travel. I would willingly speak to Gilfillan in your behalf; 
 but, having deeply imbibed all the prejudices of his sect, and being 
 of the same fierce disposition, he would pay Uttle regard to the 
 remonstrances of an Erastian divine, as he would politely term 
 me. — And now, farewell, my young friend ; for the present, I must 
 not weary out the Major's indulgence, that I may obtain his per- 
 mission to visit you again in the course of the day." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THINGS MEND A LITTLE. 
 
 About noon, Mr. Morton returned, and brought an' invitation 
 from Major Melville that Mr. Waverley would honour him with 
 his company to dinner notwithstanding the unpleasant affair which 
 detained him at Cairnvreckan, from, which he should heartily re- 
 joice to see Mr. Waverley completely extricated. The truth was, 
 that Mr. Morton's favourable report and opinion had somewhat 
 staggered the preconceptions of the old soldier concerning Ed- 
 ward's supposed accession to the mutiny in the regiment ; and in 
 the unfortunate state of the country, the mere suspicion of dis- 
 affection, or an inclination to join the insurgent Jacobites, might 
 infer criminality indeed, but certainly not dishonour. Besides, a 
 person whom the Major trusted had reported to him (though, as it 
 proved, inaccurately) a contradiction of the agitating news of the 
 preceding evening. According to this second edition of the intelli- 
 gence, the Highlanders had withdrawn from the Lowland frontier 
 with the purpose of following the army in their march to Inverness. 
 The Major was at a loss, indeed, to reconcile his information with 
 the well-known abilities of some of the gentlemen in the Highland 
 army, yet it was the course which was likely to be most agreeable 
 to others. He remembered the same policy had detained them in 
 the north in the year 17 15, and he anticipated a similar termination 
 to the insurrection as upon that occasion. 
 
 This news put him in such good-humour, that he readily ac- 
 quiesced in Mr. Morton's proposal to pay some hospitable atten- 
 
WAVERLEY. 211 
 
 tion to his unfortunate guest, and voluntarily added, hehopedthe 
 whole affair would prove a youthful escapade, which might be easily 
 atoned by a short confinement. The kind mediator had some 
 trouble to prevail on his young friend to accept the invitation. 
 He dared not urge to him the real motive, -which was a good- 
 natured wish to secure a favourable report of Waverle/s case from 
 Major Melville to Governor Blakeney. He remarked, from the 
 flashes of our hero's spirit, that touching upon this topic would be 
 sure to defeat his purpose. He therefore pleaded that the invita- 
 tion argued the Major's disbelief of any part of the accusation 
 which was inconsistent with Waverleys conduct as a soldier and 
 man of honour, and that to decline his courtesy might be inter- 
 preted into a consciousness that it was unmerited. In short, he so 
 far satisfied Edward that the manly and proper course was to meet 
 the Major on easy terms, that, suppressing his strong dislike again 
 to encounter his cold and punctihous civility, Waverley agreed to 
 be guided by his new friend. 
 
 The meeting, at first, was stiff and formal enough. But Edward, 
 having accepted the invitation, and his mind being really soothed 
 and relieved by the kindness of Morton, held himself bound to 
 behave with ease, though he could not affect cordiality. The 
 Major was somewhat of a bon vivant, and his wine was excellent. 
 He told his old campaign stories, and displayed much knowledge 
 of men and manners. Mr. Morton had an internal fund of placid 
 and quiet gaiety, which seldom failed to enliven any small party in 
 which he found himself pleasantly seated. Waverley, whose life 
 was a dream, gave ready way to the predominating impulse, and 
 became the most lively of the party. He had at all times remark- 
 able natural powers of conversation, though easily silenced by dis- 
 -couragement. On the present occasion, he piqued himself upon 
 leaving on the minds of his companions a favourable impression of 
 one who, under such disastrous circumstances, could sustain his 
 misfortunes with ease and gaiety. His spirits, though not unyield- 
 ing, were abundantly elastic, and soon seconded his efforts. The 
 trio were engaged in very lively discourse, apparently delighted 
 with each other, and the kind host was pressing a third bottle of 
 Burgundy, when the sound of a drum was heard at some distance. 
 The Major, who, in the glee of an old soldier, had forgot the duties 
 of a magistrate, cursed, with a muttered military oath, the circum- 
 stances which recalled him to his official functions. He rose and 
 went towards the window, which commanded a very near view of 
 the high-road, and he was followed by his guests. 
 
 The drum advanced, beating no measured martial tune, but a 
 kind of rub-a-dub-dub, like that with which the fire-drum startles 
 
 o 2 
 
212 WAVERLEY. 
 
 the slumbering artisans of a Scotch burgh. It is the object of this 
 history to do justice to all men ; I must therefore record, in justice 
 to the drummer, that he protested he could beat any laiown 
 march or point of war known in the British army, and had accord- 
 ingly commenced with "Dumbarton's Drums," when he was 
 silenced by Gifted Gilfillan, the commander of the party, who 
 refused to permit his ioUowers to move to this profane, and even, 
 as he said, persecutive tune, and commanded the drummer to beat 
 the 119th Psalm. As this was beyond the capacity of the drubber 
 of sheepskin, he was fain to have recourse to the inoffensive 
 row-de-dow, as a, harmless substitute for the sacred music which 
 his instrument or skill were unable to achieve. This may be held 
 a triiling anecdote, but the drummer in question was no less than 
 town-drummer of Anderton. I remember his successor in office a 
 member of that enlightened body, the British Convention : Be his- 
 memory, therefore, treated with due respect. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 A VOLUNTEER SIXTY YEARS SINCE. 
 
 On hearing the unwelcome sound of the drum. Major Melville 
 hastily opened a sashed door, and stepped out upon a sort of 
 terrace which divided his house from the high-road from which 
 the martial music proceeded. Waverley and his new friend 
 followed him, though probably he would have dispensed with their 
 attendance. They soon recognised in solemn march, first, the 
 performer upon the drum ; secondly, a large flag of four compart- 
 ments, on which were inscribed the words, Covenant, Kirk, 
 King, Kingdoms. The person who was honoured with this 
 charge was followed by the commander of the party, a thin, dark, 
 rigid-looking rhan, about sixty years old. The spiritual pride, 
 which in mine Host of the Candlestick mantled in a sort of super- 
 cilious hypocrisy, was, in this man's face, elevated and yet darkened 
 by genuine and undoubting fanaticism. It was impossible to be- 
 hold him without imagination placing him in some strange crisis, 
 where religious zeal was the ruling principle. A martyr at the 
 stake, a soldier in the field, a lonely and banished wanderer con- 
 soled by the intensity and supposed purity of his faith under every 
 earthly privation ; perhaps a persecuting inquisitor, as terrific in 
 power as unyielding in adversity ; any of these seemed congenial 
 characters to this personage. With these high traits of energy, 
 there was something in the affected precision and solemnity of his 
 deportment and discourse, that bordered upon the ludicrous ; so 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 213 
 
 that, according to the mood of the spectator's mind, and the light 
 under which Mr. GilfiUan presented himself, one might have 
 feared, admired, or laughed at him. His dress was that of a west- 
 country peasant, of better materials indeed than that of the lower 
 rank, but in no respect affecting either the mode of the age, or of 
 the Scottish gentry at any period. His arms were a broadsword 
 and pistols, which, from the antiquity of their appearance, might 
 have seen the rout of Pentland, or Bothwell Brigg. 
 
 As he came up a few steps to meet Major Melville, and touched 
 solemnly, but slightly, his huge and overbrimmed blue bonnet, in 
 answer to the Major, who had courteously raised a small triangular 
 gold-laced hat, Waverley was irresistibly impressed with the idea 
 that he beheld a leader of the Roundheads of yore in conference 
 with one of Marlborough's captains. 
 
 The group of about thirty armed men who followed this gifted 
 commander, was of a motley description. They were in ordinary 
 Lowland dresses, of different colours, which, contrasted with the 
 arms they bore, gave them an irregular and mobbish appearance ; 
 so much is the eye accustomed to connect uniformity of dress with 
 the military character. Ifi front were a few who apparently 
 partook of their leader's enthusiasm ; men obviously to be feared 
 in a combat where their natural courage was exalted by religious 
 zeal. Others puffed and strutted, filled with the importance of 
 carrying arms, and aU the novelty of their situation, while the rest, 
 apparently fatigued with their march, dragged their limbs listlessly 
 along, or straggled from their companions to procure such refresh- 
 ments as the neighbouring cottages and ale-houses afforded. — 
 Six grenadiers of Ligonier's, thought the Major to himself, as his 
 mind reverted to his own. military experience, would have sent all 
 these fellows to the right about. 
 
 Greeting, however, Mr. Gilfillan civilly, he requested to know if 
 he had received the letter he had sent to him upon his march, and 
 could undertake the charge of the state prisoner whom he there 
 mentioned, as far as Stirling Castle. "Yea," was the concise 
 reply of the Cameronian leader, in a voice which seemed to issue 
 Crom the Ne.Tj penetralia of his person. 
 
 " But your escort, Mr. Gilfillan, is not so strong as I expected," 
 said Major Melville. 
 
 " Some of the people," replied Gilfillan, " hungered and were 
 athirst by the way, and tarried until their poor souls were refreshed 
 with the word." 
 
 " I am sorry, sir," replied the Major, " you did not trust to your 
 refreshing your men at Cairnvreckan ; whatever my house contains 
 is at the command of pejsons employed in the service." 
 
214 ■ WAVERLEY. 
 
 " It was not of creature-comforts I spake," answered tne Cove- 
 nanter, regarding Major Melville with something like a smile of 
 contempt ; " howbeit, I thank you ; but the people remained 
 waiting upon the precious Mr. Jabesh Rentowel, for the out- 
 pouring of the afternoon exhortation." 
 
 " And have you, sir," said the Major, " when the rebels are about 
 to spread themselves through this country, actually left a great 
 part of your command at a field-preaching ?" 
 
 GilfiUan again smiled scornfully as he made this indirect 
 answer, — " Even thus are the children of this world wiser in their 
 generation than the children of light ! " 
 
 " However, sir," said the Major, " as you are to take charge of 
 this gentleman to Stirling, and deliver him, with these papers, 
 into the hands of Governor Blakeney, I beseech you to observe 
 some rules of military discipline upon your march. For example, 
 I would advise you to keep your men more closely together, and 
 that each, in his march, should cover his file-leader, instead of 
 straggling like geese upon a common ; and, for fear of surprise, I 
 further recommend to you to form a small advance-party of your 
 best men, with a single vidette in front of the whole march, so that 
 when you approach a village or a wood " — (Here the Major inter- 
 rupted himself) — " But as I don't observe you listen to me, Mr. 
 GilfiUan, I suppose I need not give myself the trouble to say more 
 upon the subject You are a better judge, unquestionably, than I 
 am, of the measures to be pursued ; but one thing I would have 
 you well aware of, that you are to treat this gentleman, your 
 prisoner, with no rigour nor incivility, and are to subject him to no 
 other restraint than is necessary for his security." 
 
 " I have looked into my commission," said Mr. GilfiUan, " sub- 
 scribed by a worthy and professing nobleman, William, Earl of 
 Glencairn ; nor do I find it therein set down that I am to receive 
 any charges or commands anent my doings from Major William 
 Melville of Cairnvreckan." 
 
 Major Melville reddened even to the well-powdered ears which 
 appeared beneath his neat military side-curls, the more so, as he 
 observed Mr. Morton smUe at the same moment. " Mr. GilfiUan," 
 he answered, with some asperity, " I beg ten thousand pardons 
 for mterfering with a person of your importance. I thought, how- 
 ever, that as you have been bred a grazier, if I mistake not, there 
 might be occasion to remind you of the difference between High- 
 landers and Highland cattle ; and if you should happen to meet 
 with any gentleman who has seen service, and is disposed to speak 
 upon the subject, I should still imagine that listening to him would 
 do you no sort of harm. But I have done, and have only once 
 
WAVERLEY. 215 
 
 more to recommend this gentleman to your civility, as well as to 
 your custody.— Mr. Waverley, I am truly sorry we should part in 
 this way; but I trust, when you are again in this country, I may 
 have an opportunity to render Cairnvreckan more agreeable than 
 circumstances have permitted on this occasion." 
 
 So saying, he shook our hero by the hand. Morton also took an 
 affectionate farewell; and Waverley, having mounted his horse, 
 with a musketeer leading it by the bridle, and a file upon each 
 side to prevent his escape, set forward upon the march with 
 Gilfillan and his party. Through the Kttle village they were ac- 
 companied with the shouts of the children, who cried out, " Eh ! 
 see to the Southland gentleman, that's gaun to be hanged for 
 shooting lang John Mucklewrath, the smith !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 AN INCIDENT. 
 
 The dinner hour of Scotland Sixty Years since was two o'clock. 
 It was therefore about four o'clock of a delightful autumn afternoon 
 that Mr. GilfiUan commenced his march, in hopes, although Stir- 
 ling was eighteen miles distant, he might be able, by becoming a 
 borrower of the night for an hour or two, to reach it that evening. 
 He therefore put forth his strength, and marched stoutly along at 
 the head of his followers, eyeing our hero from time to time as if 
 he longed to enter into controversy with him. At length unable to 
 resist the temptation, he slackened his pace till he was alongside of 
 his prisoner's horse, and after marching a few steps in silence 
 abreast of him, he suddenly asked, — " Can ye say wha the carle was 
 wi' the black coat and the mousted head, that was wi' the Laird of 
 Cairnvreckan ? " 
 
 " A Presbyterian clergyman," answered Waverley. 
 
 "Presbyterian '"answered Gilfillan contemptuously; "a wretched 
 Erastian, or rather an obscured Prelatist, — a favourer of the black 
 Indulgence ; ane of thae dumb dogs that canna bark : they tell 
 ower a clash o' terror and a clatter o' comfort in their sermons, 
 without ony sense, or savour, or life — Ye've been fed in siccan a 
 fauld, belike?" 
 
 " No ; I am of the Church of England," said Waverley. 
 
 " And they're just neighbour-like," replied the Covenanter ; " and 
 nae wonder they gree sae week Wha wad hae thought the goodly 
 ztructure of the Kirk of Scotland, built up by our fathers in 1642, 
 wad hae been defaced by carnal ends and the corruptions of the 
 
2i6 waverley; 
 
 time ;— ay, wha wad hae thought the carved work of the sanctuary- 
 would hae been sae soon cut doon ! " 
 
 To this lamentation, which one or two of the assistants chorused 
 with a deep groan, our hero thought it unnecessary to malce any 
 reply. Whereupon Mr. Gilfillan, resolving that he should be a 
 hearer at least, if not a disputant, proceeded in his Jeremiade. 
 
 "And now is it wonderful, when, for lack of exercise anent the 
 call to the service of the altar and the duty of the day, ministers 
 fall into sinful compliances with patronage, and indemnities, and 
 oaths, and bonds, and other corruptions, — is it wonderful, I say, 
 that you, sir, and other sic-like unhappy persons, should labour to 
 build up your auld Babel of iniquity, as in the bluidy persecuting., 
 saint-killing times .'' I trow, gin ye werena blinded wi' the graces 
 and favours, and services and enjoyments, and employments and 
 inheritances, of this wicked world, I could prove to you, by the 
 Scripture, in what a filthy rag ye put your trust ; and that your sur- 
 plices, and your copes and vestments, are but cast-off garments of 
 the muckle harlot, that sitteth upon seven hills, and drinketh of the 
 cup of abomination. But, I trow, ye are deaf as adders upon that 
 side of the head ; ay, ye are deceived with her enchantments, and 
 ye traffic with her merchandise, and ye are drunk with the cup of 
 her fornication ! " 
 
 How much longer this military theologist might have continued 
 his invective, in which he spared nobody but the scattered remnant 
 oi hill-folk, as he called them, is absolutely uncertain. His matter 
 was copious, his voice powerful, and his memory strong ; so that 
 there was little chance of his ending his exhortation till the party 
 had reached Stirling, had not his attention been attracted by a 
 pedlar who had joined the march from a cross-road, and who sighed 
 or groaned with great regularity at all fitting pauses of his homily. 
 
 " And what may ye be, friend ? " said the Gifted Gilfillan. 
 
 " A puir pedlar, that's bound for Stirling, and craves the protec- 
 tion of your honour's party in these kittle times. Ah ! your honour 
 has a notable faculty in searching and explaining the secret, — ay, 
 the secret and obscure and incomprehensible causes of the back- 
 slidings of the land ; ay, your honour touches the root o' the 
 matter." 
 
 " Friend," said GilfiUan, with a more complacent voice than he 
 had hitherto used, " honour not me. I do not go out to park-dikes, 
 and to steadings, and to -market-towns, to have herds and cottars 
 and burghers pull off their bonnets to me as they do to Major Mel- 
 ville o' Cairnvreckan, and ca' me laird, or captain, or honour ; — 
 no ; my sma' means, whilk are not aboon twenty thousand merk, 
 have had the blessing of increase, but the pride of my heart has not 
 
WAVERLEY. 217 
 
 increased with them ; nor do I delight to be called captain, though 
 I have the subscribed commission of that gospel-searching noble- 
 man, the Earl of Glencairn, in whilk I am so designated. While I 
 live, I am and will be called Habakkuk Gilfillan, who wiU stand 
 up for the standards of doctrine agreed on by the ance-famous 
 Kirk of Scotland, before she trafficked with the accursed Achan, 
 while he has a plack in his purse, or a drap o' bluid in his body." 
 
 " Ah," said the pedlar, " I have seen your land about Mauchline 
 —a fertile spot ! your lines have fallen in pleasant places ! — And 
 siccan a breed o' cattle is not in ony laird's land in Scotland." 
 
 " Ye say right,— ye say right, friend," retorted Gilfillan eagerly, 
 for he was not inaccessible to flattery upon this subject, — " Ye say 
 right ; they are the real Lancashire, and there's no the like o' them 
 even at the Mains of Kilmaurs ; " and he then entered into a dis- 
 cussion of their excellencies, to which our readers will probably be 
 as indifferent as our hero. After this excursion, the leader returned 
 to his theological discussions, while the pedlar, less profound upon 
 those mystic points, contented himself with groaning, and express- 
 ing his edification at suitable intervals. 
 
 '' What a blessing it would be to the puir blinded popish nations 
 among whom I hae sojourned, to have siccan a light to their paths ! 
 I hae been as far as Muscovia in my sma' trading way, as a travel- 
 ling merchant ; and I hae been through France and the Low 
 Countries, and a' Poland, and maist feck o' Germany ; and O ! it 
 would grieve your honour's soul to see the murmuring, and the 
 singing, and massing, that's in the kirk, and the piping that's in 
 the quire, and the heathenish dancing and dicing upon the Sab- 
 bath ! " 
 
 This set Gilfillan off upon the Book of Sports and the Covenant, 
 and the Engagers, and the Protesters, and the Whiggamore's Raid, 
 and the Assembly of Divines at Westminster, and the Longer and 
 Shorter Catechism, and the Excommunication at Torwood, and the 
 slaughter of Archbishop Sharp. This last topic, again, led him 
 into the lawfulness of defensive arms, on which subject he uttered 
 much more sense than could have been expected from some other 
 parts of his harangue, and attracted even Waverle/s attention, who 
 had hitherto been lost in his own sad reflections. Mr. Gilfillan 
 then considered the lawfulness of a private man's standing forth as 
 the avenger of public oppression, and as he was labouring with 
 great earnestness the cause of Mas James Mitchell, who fired at the 
 Archbishop of St. Andrews some years before the prelate's assassi- 
 nation on Magus Muir, an incident occurred which interrupted his 
 harangue. 
 
 The rays of the sun were lingering on the very verge of the hori- 
 
2i8 WAVERLEY. 
 
 zon, as the party ascended a hollow and somewhat steep path, 
 which led to the summit of a rising ground. The country was un- 
 enclosed, being part of a very extensive heath or common ; but it 
 was far from level, exhibiting in many places hollows filled with 
 furze and broom ; in others little dingles of stunted brushwood.. A. 
 thicket of the latter description crowned the hill up which the party 
 ascended. The foremost of the band, being the stoutest and most 
 active, had pushed on, and having surmounted the ascent, were out 
 of ken for the present. GilfiUan, with the pedlar, and the small 
 party who were Waverley's more immediate guard, were near the 
 top of the ascent, and the remainder straggled after them at a con- 
 siderable interval. 
 
 Such was the situation of matters, when the pedlar, missing, as 
 he said, a little doggie which belonged to him, began to halt and 
 whistle for the animal. This signal, repeated more than once, gave 
 offence to the rigour of his companion, the rather because it 
 appeared to indicate inattention to the treasures of theological and 
 controversial knowledge which was pouring out for his edification. 
 He therefore signified gruffly, that he could not waste his time in 
 waiting for an useless cur. 
 
 " But if your honour wad consider the case of Tobit " 
 
 " Tobit ! " exclaimed GilfiUan, with great heat ; " Tobit and his 
 dog baith are altogether heathenish and apocryphal, and none but 
 a prelatist or a papist would draw them into question. I doubt I 
 hae been mista'en in you, friend." 
 
 " Very likely," answered the pedlar, with great composure ; " but 
 ne'ertheless, I shall take leave to whistle again upon puir Bawty." 
 
 This last signal was answered in an unexpected manner ; for six 
 or eight stout Highlanders, who lurked among the copse and brush- 
 wood, sprung into the hollow way, and began to lay about them 
 with their claymores. GilfiUan, unappalled at this undesirable 
 apparition, cried out manfully, " The sword of the Lord and of 
 Gideon ! " and, drawing his broadsword, would probably have done 
 as much credit to the good old cause as any of its doughty cham- 
 pions at Drumclog, when, behold ! the pedlar, snatching a musket 
 from the person who was next him, bestowed the butt of it with 
 such emphasis on the head of his late instructor in the Cameronian 
 creed, that he was forthwith levelled to the ground. In the confu- 
 sion which ensued, the horse which bore our hero was shot by one 
 of GilfiUan's party, as he discharged his firelock at random. 
 Waverley fell with, and indeed under, the animal, and sustained 
 some severe contusions. But he was almost instantly extricated 
 from the faUen steed by two Highlanders, who, each seizing him by 
 the arm, hurried him away from the scuffle and from the high-road. 
 
WAVERLEY. 21c, 
 
 They ran with great speed, half supporting and half dragging our 
 hero, who could, however, distinguish a few dropping shots fired 
 about the spot which he had left. This, as he afterwards learned, 
 proceeded from Gilfillan's party, who had now assembled, the 
 stragglers in front and rear having joined the others. At their ap- 
 proach the Highlanders drew off, but not before they had rifled 
 Gilfillan and two of his people, who remained on the spot grievously 
 wounded. A few shots were exchanged betwixt them and the 
 Westlanders ; but the latter, now without a commander, and appre- 
 hensive of a second ambush, did not make any serious effort to 
 recover their prisoner, judging it more wise to proceed on their 
 journey to Stirling, carrying with them their wounded captain and 
 comrades. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 WAVERLEY IS STILL IN DISTRESS. 
 
 The velocity, and indeed violence, with which Waverley was 
 hurried along, nearly deprived him of sensation ; for the injury he 
 had received from his fall prevented him from aiding himself so 
 effectually as he might otherwise have done. When this was ob- 
 served by his conductors, they called to their aid two or three others 
 of the party, and swathing our hero's body in one of their plaids, 
 divided his weight by that means among them, and transported him 
 at the same rapid rate as before, without any exertion of his own. 
 They spoke little, and that in Gaelic ; and did not slacken their 
 pace till they had run nearly two miles, when they abated their ex- 
 treme rapidity, but continued still to walk very fast, relieving each 
 other occasionally. 
 
 Our hero now endeavoured to address them, but was only 
 answered with " Cha n'eil Beurl' agajn," i. e., "I have no English," 
 being, as Waverley well knew, the constant reply of a Highlander, 
 when he either does not understand, or does not choose to reply to, 
 an Englishman or Lowlander. He then mentioned the name of 
 Vich Ian Vohr, concluding that he was indebted to his friendship 
 for his rescue from the clutches of Gifted Gilfillan ; but neither did 
 this produce any mark of recognition from his escort. 
 
 The twilight had given place to moonshine when the party halted 
 upon the brink of a precipitous glen, which, as partly enlightened 
 by the moon-beams, seemed full of trees and tangled brushwood. 
 Two of the Highlanders dived into it by a small foot-path, as if to 
 explore its recesses, and one of them returning in a few minutes, 
 said something to his companions, who instantly raised their bur- 
 
2ao WAVERLEY. 
 
 den, and bore him, with great attention and care, down the narrow 
 and abrupt descent. Notwithstanding their precautions, however, 
 Waverley's person came more than once into contact, rudely enough, 
 with the projectingstumpsandbrancheswhich overhung the pathway. 
 
 At the bottom of the descent, and, as it seemed by the side of a 
 brook (for Waverley heard the rushing of a considerable body of 
 water, although its stream was invisible in the darlcness), the party 
 again stopped before a small and rudely-constructed hovel. The 
 door was open, and the inside of the premises appeared as uncom- 
 fortable and rude as its situation and exterior foreboded. There was 
 no appearance of a floor of any kind ; the roof seemed rent in 
 several places ; the walls were composed of loose stones and turf, 
 and the thatch of branches of trees. The fire was in the centre, and 
 filled the whole wigwam with smoke, which escaped as -much 
 through the door as by means of a circular aperture in the roof. An 
 old Highland sibyl, the only inhabitant of this forlorn mansion, 
 appeared busy in the preparation of some food. By the light which 
 the fire afforded, Waverley could discover that his attendants were 
 not of the clan of Ivor, for Fergus was particularly strict in requir- 
 ing from his followers that they should wear the tartan striped in 
 the mode peculiar to their race ; a mark of distinction anciently 
 general through the Highlands, and stiU maintained by those Chiefs 
 who were proud of their lineage, or jealous of their separate and 
 exclusive authority. 
 
 Edward had lived at Glennaqupich long enough to be aware of a 
 distinction which he had repeatedly heard noticed ; and now satis- 
 fied that he had no interest with his attendants, he glanced a dis- 
 consolate eye around the interior of the cabin. The only furniture, 
 excepting a washing-tub, and a wooden press, called in Scotland an 
 ambry, sorely decayed, was a large wooden bed, planked, as is 
 usual, all around, and opening by a sliding panel. In this recess 
 the Highlanders deposited Waverley, after he had by signs declined 
 any refreshment. His slumbers were broken and unrefreshing; 
 strange viSiOns passed before his eyes, and it required constant and 
 reiterated efforts of mind to dispel them. Shivering, violent head- 
 ache, and shooting pains in his limbs, succeeded these symptoms ; 
 and in the morning it was evident to his Highland attendants or 
 guard, for he knew not in which light to consider them, that 
 Waverley was quite unfit to travel. 
 
 After a long consultation among themselves, six of the party left 
 the hut with their arms, leaving behind an old and a young man. 
 The former addressed Waverley, and bathed the contusions, which 
 swelling and livid colour now made conspicuous. His own port- 
 manteau, which the Highlanders had not failed to bring off, 
 
WAVERLEY. 221 
 
 -supplied him with linen, and, to his great surprise, was, with all 
 its undiminished contents, freely resigned to his use. The bedding 
 of his couch seemed clean and comfortable, and his aged attendant 
 closed the door of the bed, for it had no curtain, after a few words 
 of Gaelic, from which Waverley gathered that he exhorted him to 
 repose. So behold our hero for a second time the patient of a 
 Highland Esculapius, but in a situation much more uncomfortable 
 than when he was the guest of the worthy Tomanrait. 
 
 The symptomatic fever which accompanied the injuries he had 
 sustained, did not abate till the third day, when it gave way to the 
 care of his attendants and the strength of his constitution, and he 
 could now raise himself in his bed, though not without pain. He 
 observed, however, that there was a great disinclination, on the part 
 of the old woman who acted as his nurse, as well as on that of the 
 elderly Highlander, to permit the door of the bed to be left open, 
 so that he might amuse himself with observing their motions ; and 
 at length, after Waverley had repeatedly drawn open, and they had 
 as frequently shut, the hatchway of his cage, the old gentleman put 
 an end to the contest, by securing it on the outside with a nail, so 
 effectually that the door could not be drawn till this exterior 
 impediment was removed. 
 
 While musing upon the cause of this contradictory spirit in per- 
 sons whose conduct intimated no purpose of plunder, and who, in 
 all other points, appeared to consult his welfare and his wishes, it 
 occurred to our hero, that, during the worst crisis of his illness, a 
 female figure, younger than his old Highland nurse, had appeared 
 to flit around his couch. Of this, indeed, he had but a very indis- 
 tinct recollection, but his suspicions were confirmed when, atten- 
 tively listening, he often heard, in the course of the day, the voice 
 of another female conversing in whispers with his attendant. Who 
 could it be? And why should she apparently desire conceal- 
 ment? Fancy immediately roused herself, and turned to Flora 
 Mac-Ivor. But after a short conflict between his eager desire 
 to believe she was in his neighbourhood, guarding, like an angel of 
 mercy, the couch of his sickness, Waverley was compelled to con- 
 clude that his conjecture was altogether improbable ; since, to 
 suppose she had left her comparatively safe situation at Glenna- 
 quoich to descend into the Low Country, now the seat of civil wai-, 
 and to inhabit such a lurking place as this, was a thing hardly to 
 be imagined. Yet his heart bounded as he sometimes could dis- 
 tinctly hear the trip of a light female step glide to or from the door 
 of the hut, or the suppressed sounds of a female voice, of softness 
 and delicacy, hold dialogue with the hoarse inward croak of old Janet, 
 for so he understood his antiquated attendant was denominated. 
 
222 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Having nothing else to amuse his solitude, he employed himself 
 in contriving some plan to gratify his curiosity, in despite of the 
 sedulous caution of Janet and the old Highland janizary, for he had 
 never seen the young fellow since the first morning. At length, 
 upon accurate examination, the infirm state of his wooden prison- 
 house appeared to supply the means of gratifying his curiosity, for 
 out of a spot which was somewhat decayed he was able to extract a 
 nail. Through this minute aperture he could perceive a female 
 form, wrapped in a plaid, in the act of conversing with Janet. But, 
 since the days of our grandmother Eve, the gratification of inordi- 
 nate curiosity has generally borne its penalty in disappointment. 
 The form was not that of Flora, nor was the face visible ; and, to 
 crown his vexation, while he laboured with the nail to enlarge the 
 hole, that he might obtain a more complete view, a slight noise 
 betrayed his purpose, and the object of his curiosity instantly, dis- 
 appeared ; nor, so far as he could observe, did she again re-visit 
 the cottage. 
 
 All precautions to blockade his view were from that time aban- 
 doned, and he was not only permitted, but assisted to rise and quit 
 what had been, in a literal sense, his couch of confinement. But he 
 was not allowed to leave the hut ; for the young Highlander had 
 now rejoined his senior, and one or other was constantly on the 
 watch. Whenever Waverley approached the cottage door, the 
 sentinel upon duty civilly, but resolutely, placed himself against it 
 and opposed his exit, accompanying his actions with signs which 
 seemed to imply there was danger in the attempt, and an enemy in 
 the neighbourhood. Old Janet appeared anxious and upon the 
 watch ; and Waverley, who had not yet recovered strength enough 
 to attempt to take his departure in spite of the opposition of his 
 hosts, was under the necessity of remaining patient. His fare was, 
 in every point of view, better than he could have conceived ; for 
 poultry, and even wine, were no strangers to his table. The High- 
 landers never presumed to eat with him, and, unless in the circum- 
 stance of watching him, treated him with great respect. His sole 
 amusement was gazing from the window, or rather the shapeless 
 aperture which was meant to answer the purpose of,a window, upon 
 a large and rough brook, which raged and foamed througli a rocky 
 channel, closely canopied with trees and bushes, about ten feet be- 
 neath the site of his house of captivity. 
 
 Upon the sixth day of his confinement, Waverley found l;iimseU 
 so well, that he began to meditate his escape from this dull and 
 miserable prison-house, thinking any risk which he might incur in 
 the attempt preferable to the ^tupifying and intolerable uniformity 
 of Janet's retirement. The question indeed occurred, whither he 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 223 
 
 was to direct his course when again at his own disposal. Two 
 schemes seemed practicable, yet both attended with danger and 
 difficulty. One was to go back to Glennaquoich, and join Fergus 
 Mac-Ivor, by whom he was sure to be kindly received ; and in the 
 present state of his mind, the rigour with which he had been treated 
 fully absolved him, in his own eyes, from his allegiance to the 
 ■existing Government. The other project was to endeavour to attain 
 a Scottish sea-port, and thence to take shipping for England. His 
 mind wavered between these plans ; and probably, if he had 
 effected his escape in the manner he proposed, he would have been 
 finally determined by the comparative facility by which either 
 might have been executed. But his fortune had settled that he was 
 not to be left to his option. 
 
 Upon the evening of the seventh day the door of the hut sud- 
 denly opened, and two Highlanders entered, whom Waverley recog- 
 nised as having been a part of his original escort to this cottage. 
 They conversed for a short time with the old man and his com- 
 panion, and then made Waverley understand, by very significant 
 signs, that he was to prepare to accompany them. This was ix 
 joyful communication. What had already passed during his con- 
 finement made it evident that no personal injury was designed to 
 him ; and his romantic spirit, having recovered during his repose 
 much of that elasticity which anxiety, resentment, disappointment, 
 and the mixture of unpleasant feelings excited by his late adven- 
 tures had for a time subjugated, was now wearied with inaction. 
 His passion for the wonderful, although it is the nature of such dis- 
 positions to be excited by that degree of danger which merely gives 
 dignity to the feeling of the individual exposed to it, had sunk 
 Tinder the extraordinary and apparently insurmountable evils by 
 which he appeared environed at Cairnvreckan. In fact, this com- 
 pound of intense curiosity and exalted imagination forms a peculiar 
 species of courage which somewhat resembles the light usually 
 carried by a miner — sufficiently competent, indeed, to afford him 
 guidance and comfort during the ordinary perils of his labour, but 
 certain to be extinguished should he encounter the more formidable 
 hazard of earth-damps, or pestiferous vapours. It was now, how- 
 ever, once more rekindled, and with a throbbing mixture of hope, 
 awe, and anxiety, Waverley watched the group before him, as those' 
 who were just arrived snatched a hasty meal, and the others as- 
 sumed their arms, and made brief preparations for their departure. 
 
 As he sat in the smoky hut, at some distance from the fire, 
 around which the others were crowded, he felt a gentle pressure 
 upon his arm. He looked round — It was Alice, the daughter of 
 Donald Bean Lean. She showed him a packet of papers in such 
 
224 WAVERLEY. 
 
 a manner that the motion was remarked by no one else, put her 
 finger for a second to her lips, and passed on, as if to assist old 
 Janet in packing Waverley's clothes in his portmanteau. It was 
 obviously her wish that he should not seem to recognise her ; yet 
 she repeatedly looked back at him, as an opportunity occurred of 
 doing so unobserved, and when she saw that he remarked what she 
 did, she folded the packet with great address and speed in one of 
 his shirts, which she deposited in the portmanteau. 
 
 Here then was fresh food for conjecture. Was Alice his unknown 
 warden, and was this maiden of the cavern the tutelar genius that 
 watched his bed during his sickness ? Was he in the hands of her 
 father? and if so, what was his purpose ? Spoil, his usual object, 
 seemed in, this case neglected; for not only Waverley's property 
 was restored, but his purse, which might have tempted this pro- 
 fessional plunderer, had been all along suffered to remain in his 
 possession. All this perhaps the packet might explain ; but it was 
 plain from Alice's manner that she desired he should consult it in 
 secret. Nor did she again seek his eye after she had saitisfied her- 
 self that heir manreuvre was observed and understood. On the 
 contrary, she shortly afterwards left the hut, and it was only as she 
 tript out from the dooi', that, favoured by the obscurity, she gave 
 Waverley a parting smile and nod of significance, ere she vanished 
 in the dark glen. 
 
 The young Highlander was repeatedly dispatched by his com- 
 ,rades as if to collect intelligence. At length when he had returned 
 for the third or fourth time, the whole party arose, and made signs 
 to our hero to accompany them. Before his departure, however, 
 he shook hands with old Janet, who had been so sedulous in his 
 behalf, and added substantial marks of his gratitude for her 
 attendance. 
 
 "God bless you! God prosper you. Captain Waverley!" said 
 Janet, in good Lowland Scotch, though he had never hitherto heard 
 her utter a syllable, save in Gaelic. But the impatience of his 
 attendants prohibited his asking any explanation. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE. 
 
 There was a moment's pause when the whole party had got out 
 of the hut ; and the Highlander who assumed the command, and 
 who, in Waverley's awakened recollection, seemed to be the same 
 tall figure who had acted as Donald Bean Lean's lieutenant, by 
 whispers and signs imposed the strictest silence. He delivered to 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 22S 
 
 Edward a sword and steel pistol, and, pointing up the tract, laid 
 his hand on the hilt of his own claymore, as if to make him sensible 
 they might have occasion to use force to make good, their passage. 
 He then placed himself at the head of the party, who moved up the 
 pathway in single or Indian file, Waverley being placed nearest to 
 their leader. He moved with great precaution, as if to avoid giving 
 any alarm, and halted as soon as he came to the verge of the 
 ascent. Waverley was soon sensible of the reason, for he heard at 
 no great distance an English sentinel call out "All's well." The 
 heavy sound sunk on the night- wind dovimthe woody glen, and was 
 answered by the echoes of its banks. A second, third, and fourth 
 time, the signal was repeated, fainter and fainter, as if at a greater 
 and greater distance. It was obvious that a party of soldiers were 
 near, and upon their guard, though not sufficiently so to detect men 
 skilful in every art of predatory warfare, like those with whom he 
 now watched their ineffectual precautions. 
 
 When these sounds had died upon the silence of the night, the 
 Highlanders began their march swiftly, yet with the most cautious 
 silence. Waverley had little time, or indeed disposition, for obser- 
 vation, and could only discern that they passed at some distance 
 from a large building, in the windows of which a light or two yet 
 seemed to twinkle. A little farther on, the leading Highlander 
 snuffed the wind like a setting spaniel, and then made a signal to 
 liis party again to halt. He stooped down upon all-fours, wrapped 
 up in his plaid, so as to be scarce distinguishable from the heathy 
 ground on which he moved, and advanced in this posture to recon- 
 noitre. In a short time he returned, and dismissed his attendants 
 excepting one ; and, intimating to Waverley that he must imitate 
 his cautious mode of proceeding, all three crept forward on hands 
 and knees. 
 
 After proceeding a greater way in this inconvenient manner than 
 was at all comfortable to his knees and shins, Waverley perceived 
 the smell of smoke, which probably had been much sooner dis- 
 tinguished by the more acute nasal organs of his guide. It pro- 
 ceeded from the corner of a low and ruinous sheep-fold, the walls 
 of which were made of loose stones, as is usual in Scotland. Close 
 by this low wall the Highlander guided Waverley, and, in order 
 probably to make him sensible of his danger, or perhaps to obtain 
 the fuU credit of his own dexterity, he intimated to him, by sign 
 and example, that he might raise his head so as to peep into the 
 sheep-fold. Waverley did so, and beheld an out-post of four or 
 five soldiers lying by their watch-fire. They were all asleep, except 
 the sentinel, who paced backwards and forwards with his firelock 
 on his shoulder, which glanced red in the light of the fire as he 
 
 p 
 
226 WAVERLEY. 
 
 crossed and re-crossed before it in liis short walk, casting his eye 
 frequently to that part of the heavens from which the moon, hitherto 
 obscured by mist, seemed now about to make her appearance. 
 
 In the course of a minute or two, by one of those sudden changes 
 of atmosphere incident to a mountainous country, a breeze arose, 
 and swept before it the clouds which had covered the horizon, and 
 the night planet poured her full effulgence upon a wide and blighted 
 heath, skirted indeed with copse-wood and stunted trees in the 
 quarter from which they had come, but open and bare to the obser- 
 vation of the sentinel in that to which their course tended. The 
 wall of the sheep-fold, indeed, concealed them as they lay, but any 
 advance beyond its shelter seemed impossible without certain 
 discovery. 
 
 The Highlander eyed the blue vault, but far from blessing the 
 useful light with Homer's, or rather Pope's benighted peasant, he 
 muttered a Gaelic curse upon the unseasonable splendour of Mac- 
 Farlan^s buat {i. n. lantern).* He looked anxiously round for a 
 few minutes, and then apparently took his resolution. Leaving his 
 attendant with Waverley, after motioning to Edward to remain 
 quiet, and giving his comrade directions in a brief whisper, he 
 retreated, favoured by the irregularity of the ground, in the same 
 direction and in the same manner as they had advanced. Edward, 
 turning his head after him, could perceive him crawhng on all-fours 
 with the dexterity of an Indian, availing himself of every bush and 
 inequality to escape observation, and never passing over the more 
 exposed parts of his track, until the sentinel's back was turned 
 from him. At length he reached the thickets and underwood 
 which partly covered the moor in that direction, and probably 
 extended to the verge of the glen where Waverley had been so long 
 an inhabitant. The Highlander disappeared, but it was only for a 
 few minutes, for he suddenly issued forth from a different part of 
 the thicket, and advancing boldly upon the open heath, as if to 
 invite discovery, he levelled his piece, and fired at the sentinel. A 
 wound in the arm proved a disagreeable interruption to the poor 
 fellow's meteorological observations, as well as to the tune of Nancy 
 Dawson, which he was whistling. He returned the fire ineffectually, 
 andThis comrades, starting up at the alarm, advanced alertly towards 
 the spot from which the first shot had issued. The Highlander, 
 after giving them a full view of his person, dived among the thickets, 
 for his ruse de gicerre had now perfectly succeeded. 
 
 While the soldiers pursued the cause of their disturbance in one 
 direction, Waverley, adopting the hint of his remaining attendant, 
 made the best of his speed in that which his guide originally in- 
 tended to pursue, and which now (the attention of the soldiers 
 
WAVERLEY. 227 
 
 being drawn to a different quarter) was unobserved and unguarded. 
 When they had run about a quarter of a mile, the brow of a rising 
 ground, which they had surmounted, concealed them from further 
 risk of observation. They still heard, however, at a distance, the 
 shouts ot the soldiers as they hallooed to each other upon the heath, 
 and they could also hear the distant roll of a drum beating to arms 
 in the same direction. But these hostile sounds were now far in 
 the rear, and died away upon the breeze as they rapidly proceeded. 
 
 When they had walked about half an hour, still along open and 
 waste ground of the same description, they came to the stump of 
 an ancient oak, which, from its relics, appeared to have been at one 
 time a tree of very large size. In an adjacent hollow they found 
 several Highlanders, with a horse or two. They had not joined 
 them above a few minutes, which Waverley's attendant employed, 
 in all -probability, in communicating the cause of their delay (for 
 the words " Duncan Duroch " were often repeated), when Duncan 
 himself appeared, out of breath indeed, and with all the symptoms 
 of having run for his life, but laughing, and in high spirits at the 
 success of the stratagem by which he had bafHed his pursuers. 
 This indeed Waverley could easily conceive might be a matter of 
 no great difficulty to the active mountaineer, who was perfectly 
 acquainted with the ground, and traced his course with a firmness 
 and confidence to which his pursuers must have been strangers. 
 The alarm which he excited seemed still to continue, for a dropping 
 shot or two were heard at a great distance, which seemed to serve 
 as an addition to the mirth of Duncan and his comrades. 
 
 The mountaineer now resumed the arms with which he had 
 intrusted our hero, giving him to understand that the dangers of 
 the journey were happily surmounted. Waverley was then mounted 
 upon one of the horses, a change which the fatigue of the night 
 and his recent illness rendered exceedingly acceptable. His port- 
 manteau was placed on another pony, Duncan mounted a third, 
 and they set fonvard at a round pace, accompanied by their escort. 
 No other incident marked the course of that night's journey, and 
 at the dawn of morning they attained the banks of a rapid river. 
 The country around was at once fertile and romantic. Steep banks 
 of wood were broken by corn fields, which this year presented an 
 abundant harvest, already in a great measure cut down. 
 
 On the opposite bank of the river, and partly surrounded by a 
 winding of its stream, stood a large and massive castle, the half- 
 ruined turrets of which were already glittering in the first rays of 
 the sun.* It was in form an oblong square, of size sufficient to 
 contain a large court in the centre. The towers at each angle of 
 the square rose higher than the walls of the building, and were in 
 
 p 2 
 
228 WAVERLEY. 
 
 their .turn surmounted by turrets, different in height, and irregular 
 in shape. Upon one of these a sentinel watched, whose bonnet 
 and plaid, streaming in the wind, declared him to be a Highlander, 
 as a broad white ensign, which floated from another tower, an- 
 nounced that the garrison was held by the insurgent adherents of 
 the House of Stuart. 
 
 Passing hastily through a small and mean town, where their 
 appearance excited neither surprise nor curiosity in the few peas- 
 ants whom the labours of the harvest began to summon from their 
 repose, the party crossed an ancient and narrow bridge of several 
 arches, and turning to the left, up an avenue of huge old sycamores, 
 Waverley found himself in front of the gloomy yet picturesque 
 structure which he had admired at a distance. A huge iron-grated 
 door, which formed the exterior defence of the gateway, was already 
 thrown back to receive them ; and a second, heavily constructed 
 of oak, and studded thickly with iron nails, being next opened, 
 admitted them into the interior court-yard. A gentleman, dressed 
 in the Highland garb, and having a white cockade in his bonnet, 
 assisted Waverley to dismount from his horse, and with much 
 courtesy bid him welcome to the castle. 
 
 The governor, for so we must term him, having conducted 
 Waverley to a half-ruinous apartment, where, however, there was 
 a small camp-bed, and having offered him any refreshment which 
 he desired, was then about to leave him. 
 
 " Will you not add to your civilities," said Waverley, after having 
 made the usual acknowledgment, " by having the kindness to 
 inform me where I am, and whether or not I am to consider myself 
 as a prisoner ? " 
 
 " I am not at liberty to be so explicit upon this subject as I could 
 wish. Briefly, however, you are in the Castle of Doune, in the 
 district of Menteith, and in no danger whatever.'' 
 
 " And how am I assured of that ? " 
 
 " By the honour of Donald Stewart, governor of the garrison, 
 and lieutenant-colonel in the service of his Royal Highness Prince 
 Charles Edward." So saying, he hastily left the apartment, as if 
 to avoid further discussion. 
 
 Exhausted by the fatigues of the night, our hero now threw him- 
 self upon the bed, and was in a few' minutes fast asleep. 
 
WAVERLEY. sag, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE JOURNEY IS CONTINUED. 
 
 Before Waveiiey awakened from his repose, the day was far 
 advanced, and he began to feel that he had passed many hours 
 •without food. This was soon supplied in form of a copious break- 
 fast, but Colonel Stewart, as if wishing to avoid the queries of his 
 guest, did not again present himself. His compliments were, how- 
 ever, delivered by a servant, with an offer to provide any thing in 
 his power that could be useful to Captain Waverley on his journey, 
 which he intimated would be continued that evening. To Waver- 
 ley's further inquiries, the servant opposed the impenetrable barrier 
 of real or affected ignorance and stupidity. He removed the table 
 and provisions, and Waverley was again consigned to his own 
 meditations. 
 
 As he contemplated the strangeness of his fortune, which seemed 
 to delight in placing him at the disposal of others, without the 
 power of directing his own motions, Edward's eye suddenly rested 
 upon his portmanteau, which had been deposited in his apartment 
 during his sleep. The mysterious appearance of Alice, in the cot- 
 tage of the glen, immediately rushed upon his mind, and he was 
 about to secure and examine the packet which she had deposited 
 among his clothes, when the servant of Colonel Stewart again 
 made his appearance, and took up the portmanteau upon his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " May I not take out a change of linen, my friend ? " 
 
 " Your honour sail get ane o' the Colonel's ain ruffled sarks, but 
 this maun gang in the baggage-cart." 
 
 And so saying, he very coolly carried off the portmanteau, with- 
 out waiting further remonstrance, leaving our hero in a state where 
 disappointment and indignation struggled for the mastery. In a 
 few minutes he heard a cart rumble out of the rugged court-yard, 
 and made no doubt that he was now dispossessed, for a space at 
 least, if not for ever, of the only documents which seemed to pro- 
 mise some hght upon the dubious events which had of late in- 
 fluenced his destiny. With such melancholy thoughts he had to 
 beguile about four or five hours of solitude. 
 
 When this space was elapsed, the trampling of horse was heard 
 in the court-yard, and Colonel Stewart soon after made his appear- 
 ance to request his guest to take some further refreshment before 
 his departure. The offer was accepted, for a late breakfast had by 
 no means left our hero incapable of doing honour to dinner, which 
 
E30 WAVERLEY. 
 
 was now presented. The conversation of his host was that of a 
 plain country gentleman, mixed with some soldier-like sentiments 
 and expressions. He cautiously avoided any reference to the mili- 
 tary operations or civil politics of the time : and to Waverley's 
 direct inquiries concerning some of these points, replied, that he 
 was not at liberty to speak upon such topics. 
 
 When dinner was finished, the governor arose, and, wishing 
 Edward a good journey, said, that having been informed by 
 Waverley's servant that his baggage had been sent forward, he 
 had taken the freedom to supply him with such changes of linen 
 as he might find necessary, till he was again possessed of his own. 
 With this compliment he disappeared. A servant acquainted 
 Waverley an instant afterwards, that his horse was ready. 
 
 Upon this hint he descended into the court-yard, and found a 
 trooper holding a saddle horse, on which he mounted, and sallied 
 from the portal of Doune Castle, attended by about a score of 
 armed men on horseback. These had less the appearance of 
 regular soldiers than of individuals who had suddenly assumed 
 arms from some pressing motive of unexpected emergency. Their 
 uniform, which was blue and red, an affected imitation of that of 
 French chasseurs, was in many respects incomplete, and sate awk- 
 wardly upon those who wore it. Waverley's eye, accustomed to 
 look at a well-disciplined regiment, could easily discover that the 
 motions and habits of his escort were not those of trained soldiers, 
 and that, although expert enough in the management of their 
 horses, their skill was that of huntsmen or grooms, rather than of 
 troopers. The horses were not trained to the regular pace so 
 necessary to execute simultaneous and combined movements and 
 formations ; nor did they seerti bitted (as it is technically expressed) 
 for the use of the sword. The men, however, were stout, hardy- 
 looking fellows, and might be individually formidable as irregular 
 cavalry. The commander of this small party was mounted upon 
 an excellent hunter, and although dressed in uniform, his change 
 of apparel did not prevent Waverley from recognising his old 
 acquaintance, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple. 
 
 Now, although the terms upon which Edward had parted with 
 this gentleman were none of the most friendly, he would have 
 sacrificed every recollection of their foolish quarrel, for the pleasure 
 of enjoying once more the social intercourse of question and 
 answer, from which he had been so long secluded. But apparently 
 the remembrance of his defeat by the Baron of Bradwardine, of 
 which Edward had been the unwilling cause, still rankled in the 
 mind of the low-bred, and yet proud laird. He carefully avoided 
 giving the least sign of recognition, riding doggedly at the head of 
 
VVAVERLEY. 231 
 
 his men, who, though scarce equal in numbers to a sergeant's party, 
 were denominated Captain Falconer's troop, being preceded by a 
 trumpet, which sounded from time to time, and a standard, borne 
 by Cornet Falconer, the laird's younger brother. The lieutenant, 
 an elderly man, had much the air of a low sportsman and boon 
 companion ; an expression of dry humour predominated in his 
 countenance over features of a vulgar cast, which indicated habitual 
 mteiiiperance. His cocked hat was set knowingly upon one side 
 of his head, and while he whistled the " Bob of Dumblain," under 
 the influence of half a mutchkin of brandy, he seemed to trot 
 merrily forward, with a happy indifference to the state of the 
 country, the conduct of the party, the end of the journey, and all 
 other sublunary matters whatever. 
 
 From this wight, who now and then dropped alongside of his 
 horse, Waverley hoped to acquire some information, or at least to 
 beguile the way with talk. 
 
 " A fine evening, sir," was Edward's salutation. 
 
 " Ow, ay, sir ! a bra' nicht," repHed the lieutenant, in broad 
 Scotch of the most vulgar description. 
 
 "And a fine harvest, apparently," continued Waverley, following 
 up his first attack. 
 
 " Ay, the aits will be got bravely in : but the farmers, deil burst 
 them, and the corn-mongers will make the auld price gude against 
 them as has horses till keep." 
 
 " You perhaps act as quarter-master, sir ? " 
 
 "Ay, quarter-master, riding-master, and lieutenant," answered 
 this officer of all work. " And, to be sure, wha's fitter to look after 
 the breaking and the keeping of the poor beasts than mysell, that 
 bought and sold every ane o' them ? " 
 
 " And pray, sir, if it be not too great a freedom, may I beg to 
 laiow where we are going just now .' " 
 
 " A fule's errand, I fear," answered this communicative personage. 
 
 " In that case," said Waverley, determined not to spare civility, 
 " I should have thought a person of your appearance would not 
 have been found on the road." 
 
 " Vera true, vera true, sir," replied the officer, " but every why 
 has its wherefore. Ye maun ken, the laird there bought a' thir 
 beasts frae me to munt his troop, and agreed to pay for them 
 according to the necessities and prices of the time. But then he 
 hadna the ready penny, and I hae been advised his bond will not 
 be worth a boddle against the estate, and then I had a' my dealers 
 to settle wi' at Martinmas ; and so he very kindly offered me this 
 commission, and as the auld Fifteen * wad never help me to my 
 siller for sending out naigs against the Gov(!rnment, why, con- 
 
232 WAVERLEY. 
 
 science ! sir, I thocht my best chance for payment was e'en to 
 gae out * mysell ; and ye may judge, sir, as I hae dealt a' my life 
 in halters, I think na mickle o' putting my craig in peril of a St. 
 Johnstone's tippet." 
 
 "You are not, then, by profession a soldier?" said Waverley. 
 
 " Na, na ; thank God," answered this doughty partisan, " I wasna 
 bred at sae short a tether ; I was brocht up to hack and manger. 
 I was bred a horse-couper, sir ; and if I might live to see you at 
 Whitson-tryst, or at Stagshawbank, or the winter fair at Hawick, 
 and ye wanted a spanker that would lead the field, I'se be caution 
 I would serve ye easy ; for Jamie Jinker was ne'er the lad to impose 
 upon a gentleman. Ye're a gentleman, sir, and should ken a horse's 
 points ; ye see that through-ganging thing that Balmawhapple's on ; 
 I selled her till him. She was bred out of Lick-the-Ladle, that 
 wan the king's plate at Caverton-Edge, by Duke Hamilton's White- 
 Foot," &c. &c. &c. 
 
 But as Jinker was entered fuU sail upon the pedigree of Balma- 
 whapple's mare, having already got as far as great-grandsire and 
 great-grand-dam, and while Waverley was watching for an oppor- 
 tunity to obtain from him intelligence of more interest, the noble 
 captain checked his horse until they came up, and then, without 
 directly appearing to notice Edward, said sternly to the genea- 
 logist, " I thought, lieutenant, my orders were preceese, that no one 
 should speak to the prisoner ? " 
 
 The metamorphosed horse-dealer was silenced of course, and 
 slunk to the rear, where he consoled himself by entering into a 
 vehement dispute upon the price of hay with a farmer, who had , 
 reluctantly followed his laird to the field, rather than give up his 
 farm, whereof the lease had just expired. Waverley was therefore 
 once more consigned to silence, foreseeing that further attempts at 
 conversation with any of the party would only give Balmawhapple 
 a wished-for opportunity to display the insolence of authority, and 
 the sulky spite of a temper naturally dogged, and rendered more 
 so by habits of low indulgence and the incense of servile adulation. 
 
 In about two hours' time, the party were near the Castle of 
 Stirling, over whose battlements the union flag was brightened, as 
 it waved in the evening sun. ' To shorten ihis journey, or perhaps 
 to display his importance and insult the English garrison, Balma- 
 whapple, inclining to the right, toolc his route through the royal 
 park, which reaches to and surrounds the rock upon which the for- 
 tress is situated. 
 
 With a mind more at ease, Waverley could not have failed to 
 admire the mixture of romance and beauty which renders interesting 
 the scene through which he was now passing — the field which had 
 
WAVERLEY. 233 
 
 been the scene of the tournaments of old— the rock from which the 
 ladies beheld the contest, while each made vows for the success of 
 some favourite knight— the towers of the Gothic church, where 
 these vows might be paid— and, surmounting all, the fortress itself, 
 at once a castle and a palace, where valour received the prize from 
 royalty, and knights and dames closed the evening amid the revelry 
 of the dance, the song, and the feast. All these were objects fitted 
 to arouse and interest a romantic imagination. 
 
 But Waverley had other objects of meditation, and an inci- 
 dent soon occurred of a nature to disturb meditation of any kind. 
 Balmawhapple, in the pride of his heart, as he wheeled his little 
 body of cavalry round the base of the castle, commanded his trumpet 
 to sound a flourish, and his standard to be displayed. This insult 
 produced apparently some sensation ; for when the cavalcade was 
 at such distance from the southern battery as to admit of a gun 
 being depressed so as to bear upon them, a flash of fire issued from 
 one of the embrazures upon the rock ; and ere the report with which 
 it was attended could be heard, the rushing sound of a cannon-ball 
 passed over Balmawhapple's head, and the bullet, burying itself in 
 the ground at a few yards' distance, covered him with the earth 
 which it drove up. There was no need to bid the party trudge. 
 In fact, every man, acting upon the impulse of the moment, soon 
 brought Mr. Jinker's steeds to show their mettle, and the cavaliers, 
 retreating with more speed than regularity, never took to a trot, as 
 the lieutenant afterwards observed, until an intervening eminence 
 had secured them from any repetition of so undesirable a compli- 
 ment on the part of Stirling Castle. I must do Balmawhapple, 
 however, the justice to say, that he not only kept the rear of his 
 troop, and laboured to maintain some order among them, but, in the 
 height of his gallantry, answered the fire of the castle by discharg- 
 ing one of his horse-pistols at the battlements ; although, the dis- 
 tance being nearly half a mile, I could never learn that this measure 
 of retaliation was attended with any particular effect. 
 
 The travellers now passed the memorable field of Bannockburn, 
 and reached the Torwood, a place glorious or terrible to the recol- 
 lections of the Scottish peasant, as the feats of Wallace, or the 
 cruelties of Wude Willie Grime, predominate in his recollection. 
 At Falkirk, a town formerly famous in Scottish history, and soon to 
 be again distinguished as the scene of military events of importance, 
 Balmawhapple proposed to halt and repose for the evening. This 
 was performed with very little regard to military discipline, his 
 worthy quarter-master being chiefly solicitous to discover where 
 the best brandy might be come at. Sentinels were deemed unne- 
 cessary, and the only vigils performed were those of such of the 
 
234 WAVERLEY. 
 
 party as could procure liquor. A few resolute men might easily 
 have cut off the detachment ; but of the inhabitants some were 
 favourable, many indifferent, and the rest overawed. So nothing 
 memorable occurred in the course of the evening, except th»'. 
 Waverley's rest was sorely interrupted by the revellers hallooing 
 forth their Jacobite songs, without remorse or mitigation of voice. 
 
 Early in the morning they were again mounted, and on the roaJ 
 to Edinburgh, though the pallid visages of some of the troop be- 
 trayed that they had spent a night of sleepless debauchery. They 
 halted at Linlithgow, distinguished by its ancient palace, which, 
 Sixty Years since, was entire and habitable, and whose venerable 
 ruins, not quite Sixty Years since, very narrowly escaped the 
 unworthy fate of being converted into a barrack for French pri- 
 soners. May repose and blessings attend the ashes of the patriotic 
 statesman, who, amongst his last services to Scotland, interposed to 
 prevent this profanation ! 
 
 As they approached the metropolis of Scotland, through a cham- 
 paign and cultivated country, the sounds of war began to be heard. 
 The distant, yet distinct report of heavy cannon, fired at intervals, 
 apprized Waverley that the work of destruction was going forward. 
 Even Balmawhapple seemed moved to take some precautions, by 
 sending an advanced party in front of his troop, keeping the main 
 body in tolerable order, and moving steadily forward. 
 
 Marching in this manner they speedily reached an eminence, 
 from which they could view Edinburgh stretching along the ridgy 
 hill which slopes eastward from the Castle. The latter, being in a 
 state of siege, or rather of blockade, by the northern insurgents, 
 who had already occupied the town for two or three days, fired at 
 intervals upon such parties of Highlanders as exposed themselves, 
 either on the main street, or elsewhere in the vicinity of the fortress. 
 The morning being calm and fair, the effect of this dropping fire 
 was to invest the Castle in wreaths of smoke, the edges of which 
 dissipated slowly in the air, while the central veil was darkened 
 ever and anon by fresh clouds poured fortli from the battlements ; 
 the whole giving, by the partial concealment, an appearance of 
 grandeur and gloom, rendered more terrific when Waverley reflected 
 on the cause by which it was produced, and that each explosion 
 might ring some brave man's kneU. 
 
 Ere they approached the city, the partial cannonade had wholly 
 ceased. Balmawhapple, however, having in his recollection the 
 unfriendly greeting which his troop had received from the battery at 
 Stirling, had apparently no wish to tempt the forbearance of the 
 artillery of the Castle. He therefore left the direct road, and 
 sweeping considerably to the southward, so as to keep out of the 
 
WAVERLEY. 235 
 
 range of the cannon, approached the ancient palace of Holyrood, 
 without having entered the walls of the city. He then drew up his 
 men in front of that venerable pile, and delivered Waverley to the 
 custody of a guard of Highlanders, whose officer conducted him into 
 the interior of the building. 
 
 A long, low, and ill-proportioned gallery, hung with pictures, 
 affirmed to be the portraits of kings, who, if they ever flourished at 
 all, lived several hundred years before the invention of painting in 
 oil colours, served as a sort of guard chamber, or vestibule, to the 
 apartments which the adventurous Charles Edward now occupied 
 in the palace of his ancestors. Officers, both in the Highland and 
 Lowland garb, passed and repassed in haste, or loitered in the hall, 
 as if waiting for orders. Secretaries were engaged in making out 
 passes, musters, and returns. All seemed busy, and earnestly intent 
 upon something of importance ; but Waverley was suffered to re- 
 main seated in the recess of a window, unnoticed by any one, in 
 anxious reflection upon the crisis of his fate, which seemed now 
 rapidly approaching. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 AN OLD AND A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 While he was deep sunk in his reverie, the rustle of tartans was 
 heard behind him, a friendly arm clasped his shoulders, and a 
 friendly voice exclaimed, 
 
 " Said the Highland prophet sooth 7 — or must second-sight go for 
 nothing ? " 
 
 Waverley turned, and was warmly embraced by Fergus Mac-Ivor. 
 "A thousand welcomes to Holyrood, once more possessed by her 
 legitimate sovereign ! Did I not say we should prosper, and that 
 you would fall into the hands of the Philistines if you parted from 
 us?" 
 
 " Dear Fergus !" said Waverley, eagerly returning his greeting, . 
 " it is long since I have heard a friend's voice. Where is Flora?" 
 
 " Safe, and a triumphant spectator of our success." 
 
 " In this place ? " said Waverley. 
 
 " Ay, in this city at least," answered his friend, " and you shall 
 see her ; but first you must meet a friend whom you little think of, 
 who has been frequent in his inquiries after you." 
 
 Thus saying, he dragged Waverley by the arm out of the guard 
 chamber, and, ere he knew where he was conducted, Edward found 
 himself in a presence room, fitted up with some attempt at royal 
 state. 
 
236 WAVERLEY. 
 
 A young man, wearing his own fair hair, distinguished by the 
 dignity of his mien and the noble expression of his well-formed and 
 regular features, advanced out of a circle of military gentlemen and 
 Highland chiefs, by whom he was surrounded. In his easy and 
 graceful manners Waverley afterwards thought he could have dis- 
 covered his high birth and rank, although the star on his breast, and 
 the embroidered garter at his knee, had not appeared as its indica- 
 tions. 
 
 " Let me present to your Royal Highness," said Fergus, bowing 
 profoundly 
 
 " The descendant of one of the most ancient and loyal families 
 in England," said the young Chevalier, interrupting him. " I beg 
 your pardon for interrupting you, my dear Mac-Ivor ; but no 
 master of ceremonies is necessary to present a Waverley to a 
 Stuart." 
 
 Thus saying, he extended his hand to Edward with the utmost 
 courtesy, who could not, had he desired it, have avoided rendering 
 him the homage which seemed due to his rank, and was certainly 
 the right of his birth. " I am sorry to understand, Mr. Waverley, 
 that, owing to circumstances which have been as yet but ill ex- 
 plained, you have suffered some restraint among my followers in 
 Perthshire, and on your march here ; but we are in such a situation 
 that we hardly know our friends, and I am even at this moment un- 
 certain whether I can have the pleasure of considering Mr. Waverley 
 as among mine." 
 
 He then paused for an instant; but before Edward could adjust 
 a suitable reply, or even arrange his ideas as to its purport, the 
 Prince took out a paper, and then proceeded: — " I should indeed 
 have no doubts upon this subject, if I could trust to this proclama- 
 tion, set forth by the friends of the Elector of Hanover, in which 
 they rank Mr. Waverley among the nobility and gentry who ar? 
 menaced with the pains of high-treason for loyalty to their legiti- 
 mate sovereign. But I desire to gain no adherents save from 
 affection and conviction; and if Mr. Waverley inclines to prosecute 
 his journey to the south, or to join the forces of the Elector, he 
 shall have my passport and free permission to do so ; and I can 
 only regret, that my present power will not extend to protect him . 
 against the probable consequences of such a measure. — But," con- 
 tinued Charles Edward, after another short pause, " if Mr. Waverley 
 should, like his ancestor. Sir Nigel, determine to embrace a cause 
 which has little to recommend it but its justice, and follow a prince 
 who throws himself upon the affections of his people to recover the 
 throne of his ancestors, or perish in the attempt, I can only say, 
 that among these nobles and gentlemen he will find worthy asso- 
 
WAVERLE\. 
 
 237 
 
 ciates in a gallant enterprise, and will follow a master who may be 
 unfortunate, but, I tmst, will never be ungrateful." 
 
 The politic Chieftain of the race of Ivor knew his advantage in 
 introducing Waverley to this personal interview with the royal 
 Adventurer. Unaccustomed to the address and manners of a 
 polished court, in which Charles was eminently skilful, his words 
 and his kindness penetrated the heart of our hero, and easily out- 
 weighed all prudential motives. To be thus personally solicited for 
 assistance by a Prince, whose form and manners, as well as the 
 spirit, which he displayed in this singular enterprise, answered his 
 ideas of a hero of i-omance ; to be courted by him in the ancient 
 haUs of his paternal palace, recovered by the sword which he was 
 already bending towards other conquests, gave Edward, in his own 
 eyes, the dignity and importance which he had ceased to consider 
 as his attributes. Rejected, slandered, and threatened upon the one 
 side, he was irresistibly attracted to the cause which the prejudices 
 of education, and the political principles of his family, had already' 
 recommended as the most just. These thoughts rushed through 
 his mind like a torrent, sweeping before them every consideration 
 of an opposite tendency, — the time, besides, admitted of no delibe- 
 ration, — and Waverley, kneeling to Charles Edward, devoted his 
 heart and sword to the vindication of his rights ! 
 
 The Prince (for, although unfortunate in the faults and foUies of 
 his forefathers, we shall here and elsewhere, give him the title due 
 to his birth) raised Waverley from the ground, and embraced him 
 with an expression of thanks top warm not to be genuine. He also 
 thanked Fergus Mac-Ivor repeatedly for having brought him such 
 an adherent, and presented Waverley to the various noblemen, 
 chieftains, and officers who were about his person, as a young gen- 
 tleman of the highest hopes and prospects, in whose bold and 
 enthusiastic avowal of his cause they might see an evidence of the 
 sentiments of the English families of rank at this important crisis,* 
 Indeed, this was a point much doubted among the adherents of the 
 house of Stuart ; and as a well-founded disbelief in the co-operation 
 of the English Jacobites kept many Scottish men of rank from his 
 standard, and diminished the courage of those who had joined it, 
 nothing could be more seasonable for the Chevalier than the open 
 declaration in his favour of the representative of the house of 
 Waverley-Honour, so long known as cavaliers and royalists. This 
 Fergus had foreseen from the beginning. He really loved Waverle)-, 
 because their feelings and projects never thwarted each other ; he 
 hoped to see him united with Flora, and he rejoiced that they were 
 effectually engaged in the same cause. But, as we before hinted, 
 he also exulted as a politician in beholding secured to his party 
 
238 WAVERLEY. 
 
 a partisan of such consequence ; and he was far from being ir 
 sensible to the personal importance which he himself gained with 
 the Prince, from having so materially assisted in making the 
 acquisition. 
 
 Charles Edward, on his part, seemed eager to show his attendants 
 the value which he attached to his new adherent, by entering im- 
 mediately, as in confidence, upon the circumstances of his situa- 
 tion. " You have been secluded so much from intelligence, Mr. 
 Waverley, from causes of which I am but indistinctly informed, 
 that I presume you are even yet unacquainted with the important 
 particulars of my present situation. You have, however, heard of 
 my landing in the remote district of Moidart, with only seven 
 attendants, and of the numerous chiefs and clans whose loyal 
 enthusiasm at once placed a solitary adventurer at the head of a 
 gallant army. You must also, I think, have learned, that the 
 commander-in-chief of the Hanoverian Elector, Sir John Cope, 
 marched into the Highlands at the head of a numerous and well- 
 appointed mihtary force, with the intention of giving us battle, but 
 that his courage failed him when we were within three hours' march 
 of each other, so that he fairly gave us the slip, and marched 
 northwai'd to Aberdeen, leaving the Low Country open and un- 
 defended. Not to lose so favourable an opportunity, I marched on 
 to this metropolis, driving before me two regiments of horse, 
 Gardiner's and Hamilton's, who had thi-eatened to cut to pieces 
 every Highlander that should venture to pass Stirling; and while 
 discussions were carrying forward among the magistracy and 
 citizens of Edinburgh, whether they should defend themselves or 
 surrender, my good friend Lochiel (laying his hand on the shoulder 
 of that gallant and accomplished chieftain) saved them the trouble 
 of farther deliberation, by entering the gates with five hundred 
 Camerons. Thus far, therefore, we have done well; but, in the 
 meanwhile, this doughty general's nerves being braced by the keen 
 air of Aberdeen, he has taken shipping for Dunbar, and I have 
 just received certain information that he landed there yesterday. 
 His purpose must unquestionably be, to march towards us to 
 recover possession of the capital. Now there are two opinions in 
 my council of war : one, that being inferior probably in numbers, 
 and certainly in discipline and military appointments, not to men^ 
 tion our total want of artillery, and the weakness of our cavalry, it 
 will be safest to fall back towards the mountains, and there pro- 
 tract the war, until fresh succours arrive from France, and the 
 whole body of the Highland clans shall have taken arms in our 
 favour. The opposite opinion maintains, that a retrogade move- 
 ment, in our circumstances, is certain to throw utter discredit on 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 =39 
 
 our arms and undertaking ; and, far from gaining us new partisans, 
 will be the means of disheartening those who have joined our 
 standard. The officers who use these last arguments, among whom 
 is your friend Fergus Mac-Ivor, maintain, that if the Highlanders 
 are strangers to the usual mihtary discipline of Europe, the soldiers 
 whom they are to encounter are no less strangers to their peculiar 
 and formidable mode of attack ; that the attachment and courage 
 of the chiefs and gentlemen are not to be doubted; and that a^ 
 they will be in the midst of the enemy, their clansmen will as 
 surely follow them ; in fine, that having drawn the sword, we should 
 throw away the scabbard, and trust our cause to battle and to the 
 God of Battles. Will Mr. Waverley favour us with his opinion in 
 these arduous circumstances ? " 
 
 Waverley coloured high betwixt pleasure and modesty at the 
 distinction implied in this question, and answered, with equal spirit 
 and readiness, that he could not venture to offer an opinion as 
 derived from military skill, but that the counsel would be far the 
 most acceptable to him which should first afford him an oppor- 
 tunity to evince his zeal in his Royal Highness's service. 
 
 "Spoken like a Waverley !" answered Charles Edward; "and 
 that you may hold a rank in some degree corresponding to your 
 name, allow me, instead of the captain's commission which you 
 have lost, to ofter you the brevet rank of major in my service, with 
 the advantage of acting as one of my aides-de-camp until you can 
 be attached to a regiment, of which I hope several will be speedily 
 embodied." 
 
 " Your Royal Highness will forgive me," answered Waverley (for 
 his recollection turned to Balmawhapple and his scanty troop), 
 " if I decline accepting any rank until the time and place where I 
 may have interest enough to raise a sufficient body of men to 
 make my command useful to your Royal Highness's service. In 
 the meanwhile, I hope for your permission to serve as a volunteer 
 ■under my friend Fergus Mac-Ivor." 
 
 " At least," said the Prince, who was obviously pleased with this 
 proposal, "allow me the pleasure of arming you after the Highland 
 fashion." With these words, he unbuckled the broadsword which 
 he wore, the belt of which was plated with silver, and the steel 
 basket-hilt richly and curiously inlaid. " The blade," said the 
 Prince, " is a genuine Andrea Ferrara; it has been a sort of heir- 
 loom in our family ; but I am convinced I put it into better hands 
 than my own, and will add to it pistols of the same workman- 
 ship. — Colonel Mac- Ivor, you must have much to say to your 
 friend; I will detain you no longer from your private conversa- 
 tion; but reniember, we expect you both to attend us in the 
 
240 WAVERLEY. 
 
 evening. It may be perhaps the last night we may enjoy in these 
 halls, and as we go to the field with a clear conscience, we will 
 spend the eve of battle merrily." 
 
 Thus licensed, the Chief and Waverley left the presence- 
 chamber. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 THE MYSTERY BEGINS TO BE CLEARED UP. 
 
 "HoviT do you like him?" was Fergus's first question, as they 
 descended the large stone staircase. 
 
 " A prince to live and die under,'' was Waverley's enthusiastic 
 answer. 
 
 " I knew you would think so when you saw him, and I intended 
 you should have met earlier, but was prevented by your sprain. 
 And yet he has his foibles, or rather he has difficult cards to play, 
 and his Irish officers,* who are much about him, are, but sorry 
 advisers, — they cannot discriminate among the numerous preten- 
 sions that are set up. Would you think it — I have been obliged for 
 the present to suppress an earl's patent, granted for services rendered 
 
 ten years ago, for fear of exciting the jealousy, forsooth, of C 
 
 and M . But you were very right, Edward, to refuse the 
 
 situation of aide-de-camp. There are two vacant, indeed, but 
 Clanronald and Lochiel, and almost all of us, have requested one 
 for young Aberchallader, and the Lowlanders and the Irish party are 
 
 equally desirous to have the other for the Master of F . Now, 
 
 ' if either of these candidates were to be superseded in your favour, 
 you would make enemies. And then I am surprised that the 
 Prince should have offered you a majority, when he knows very 
 well that nothing short of lieutenant-colonel wiU satisfy others, 
 who cannot bring one hundred and fifty men to the field. ' But 
 patience, cousin, and shuffle the cards !' It is all very well for the 
 present, and we must have you properly equipped for the evening 
 in your new costume ; for, to say truth, your outward man is scarce 
 fit for a court." 
 
 " Why," said Waverley, looking at his soiled dress, " my shooting- 
 jacket has seen service since we parted; but that, probably, you,- 
 my friend, know as well or better than I." 
 
 " You do my second-sight too much honour," said Fergus. " We 
 were so busy, first with the scheme of giving battle to Cope, and 
 afterwards with our operations in the Lowlands, that I could only 
 give general directions to such of our people as were left in Perth- 
 shire to respect and protect you, should you come in their way. 
 
WAVERLEY. 141 
 
 But let me hear the full story of your adventures, for they have 
 reached us in a very partial and mutilated manner." 
 
 Waverley then detailed at length the circumstances with which 
 the reader is already acquainted, to which Fergus listened with 
 great attention. By this time they had reached the door of his 
 quarters, which he had taken up in a small paved court, retiring 
 from the street called the Canongate, at the house of a buxom 
 widow of forty, who seemed to smile very graciously upon the 
 handsome young Chief, she being a person with whom good looks 
 and good-humour were sure to secure an interest, whatever might 
 be the party's political opinions. Here Galium Beg received them 
 with a smile of recognition. " Galium," said the Ghief, " call 
 Shemus an Snachad " (James of the Needle). This was the here- 
 ditary tailor of Vich Ian Vohr. " Shemus, Mr. Waverley is to 
 wear the cai/i dath (battle colour, or tartan); his trews must be 
 ready in four hours. You know the measure of a well-made man : 
 two double nails to the small of the leg " 
 
 "Eleven from haunch to heel, seven round the waist — I give 
 your honour leave to hang Shemus, if there's a pair of sheers in the 
 Highlands that has a baulder sneck than her's ain at the cumadh 
 an irztais" (shape of the trews). 
 
 " Get a plaid of Mac-Ivor tartan, and sash," continued the 
 Ghieftain, " and a blue bonnet of the Prince's pattern, at Mr. 
 Mouat's in the Grames. My short green coat, with silver lace and 
 silver buttons, will fit him exactly, and I have never worn it. Tell 
 Ensign Maccombich to pick out a handsome target from among 
 mine. The Prince has given Mr. Waverley broadsword and 
 pistols, I will furnish him with a dirk and purse ; add but a pair of 
 low-heeled shoes, and then, my dear Edward (turning to him), 
 you will be a complete son of Ivor." 
 
 These necessary directions given, the Ghieftain resumed the sub- 
 ject of Waverley's adventures. " It is plain," he said, " that you 
 have been in the custody of Donald Bean Lean. You must know, 
 that when I marched away my clan to join the Prince, I laid my 
 injunctions on that worthy member of society to perform a certain 
 piece of service, which done, he was to join me with all the force 
 he could muster. But instead of doing so, the gentleman, finding 
 the coast clear, thought it better to make war on his own account, 
 and has scoured the country, plundering, I believe, both friend and 
 foe, under pretence of levying black-mail, sometimes as if by my 
 authority, and sometimes (and be cursed to his consummate im- 
 pudence) in his own great name ! Upon my honour, if 1 live to 
 see the cairn of Benmore again, I shall be tempted to hang that 
 fellow! I recognise his hand particularly in the mode of your 
 
242 WAVERLEY. 
 
 rescue from that canting rascal Gilfillan, and I have little doiibt 
 that Donald himself played the part of the pedlar on that occa- 
 sion ; hut how he should not have plundered you, or put you to 
 ransom, or availed himself in some way or other of your captivity 
 for his own advantage, passes my judgment." 
 
 " When and how did you hear the intelligence of my confine- 
 ment?" asked Waverley. 
 
 " The Prince himself told me," said Fergus, " and inquired very 
 minutely into your history. He then mentioned your being at that 
 moment in the power of one of our northern parties — you know I 
 could not ask him to explain particulars— and requested my opinion 
 about disposing of you. I recommended that you should be brought 
 here as a prisoner, because I did not wish to prejudice you farther 
 with the English Government, in case you pursued your purpose 
 of going southward. I knew nothing, you must recollect, of the 
 charge brought against you of aiding and abetting high treason, 
 which, I presume, had some share in changing your original plan. 
 That sullen, good-for-nothing brute, Balmawhapple, was sent to 
 escort you from Doune, with what he calls his troop of horse. As 
 to his behaviour, in addition to his natural antipathy to every- 
 thing that resembles a gentleman, I presume his adventure with 
 Bradwardine rankles in his recollection, the rather that I dare say 
 his mode of telling that story contributed to the evil reports which 
 reached your quondam regiment." 
 
 " Very likely," said Waverley ; " but now surely, my dear Fergus, 
 you may find time to tell me something of Flora." 
 
 " Why," replied Fergus, " I can only tell you that she is well, and 
 residing for the present with a relation in this city. I thought it 
 better she should come here, as since our success a good many 
 ladies of rank attend our military court ; and I assure you, that 
 there is a sort of consequence annexed to the near relative of such 
 a person as Flora Mac- Ivor ; and where there is such a justling of 
 claims and requests, a man must use every fair means to enhance 
 his importance." 
 
 There was something in this last sentence which grated on 
 Waverley's feelings. He could not bear that Flora should be 
 considered as conducing to her brother's preferment, by the ad- 
 miration which she must unquestionably attract ; and although it 
 was in strict correspondence with many points of Fergus's cha- 
 racter, it shocked him as selfish, and unworthy of his sister's high 
 mind, and his own independent pride. Fergus, to whom such 
 manoeuvres were familiar, as to one brought up at the French 
 court, did not observe the unfavourable impression which he had 
 unwarily made upon his friend's mind, and concluded by saying, 
 
WAVERLEY. 843 
 
 " that they could hardly see Flora before the evening, when she 
 would be at the conceit and ball, with which the Prince's party 
 were to be entertained. She and I had a quarrel about her not 
 appearing to take leave of you. I am unwilling to renew it, by 
 soliciting her to receive you this morning ; and perhaps my doing 
 so might not only be ineffectual, but prevent your meeting this 
 evening." 
 
 While thus conversing, Waverley heard in the court, before the 
 windows of the parlour, a well-known voice. " I aver to you, my 
 ■worthy friend," said the speaker, " that it is a total dereliction of 
 military discipline ; and were you not as it were a tyro, your pur- 
 pose would deserve strong reprobation. For a prisoner of war is 
 on no account to be coerced with fetters, or detained in ergashdo, 
 as would have been the case had you put this gentleman into the 
 pit of the peel-house at Balmawhapple. I grant, indeed, that such 
 a prisoneir may for security be coerced in ca7'cere, that is, in a 
 public prison." 
 
 The growling voice of Balmawhapple was heard as taking leave 
 in displeasure, but the word " land-louper " alone was distinctly 
 audible. He had disappeared before Waverley reached the house, 
 in order to greet the worthy Baron of Bradwardine. The uniform 
 in which he was now attired, a blue coat, namely, with gold lace, a 
 scarlet waistcoat and breeches, and immense jack-boots, seemed to 
 have added fresh stiffness and rigidity to his tall, perpendicular 
 figure ; and the consciousness of military command and authority 
 had increased, in the same proportion, the self-importance of his 
 demeanour, and the dogmatism of his conversation. 
 
 He received Waverley with his usual kindness, and expressed 
 immediate anxiety to hear an explanation of the circumstances 
 attending the loss of his commission in Gardiner's dragoons ; 
 " not," he said, " that he had the least apprehension of his young 
 friend having done aught which could merit such ungenerous 
 treatment as he had received from Government, but because it 
 was right and seemly that the Baron of Bradwardine should be, in 
 point of trust and in point of power, fully able to refute all calum- 
 nies against the heir of Waverley-Honour, whom he had so much 
 right to regard as his own son." 
 
 Fergus Mac-Ivor, who had now joined them, went hastily over 
 the circumstances of Waverley's story, and concluded with the 
 flattering reception he had met from the young Chevalier. The 
 Baron listened in silence, and at the conclusion shook Waverley 
 heartily by the hand, and congratulated him upon entering the 
 service of his lawful Prince. " For," continued he, " although it has 
 been justly held in all nations a matter of scandal and dishonour 
 
 Q 2 
 
244 WAVERLEY. 
 
 to infringe the sacramentum militare, and that whether it was 
 taken by each soldier singly, whilk the Romans denominated per 
 conjiirationein, or by one soldier in name of the rest, yet no one 
 ever doubted that the allegiance so sworn was discharged by the 
 dimissio, or discharging of a soldier, whose case would be as hard 
 as that of colliers, salters, and other adscripti gleba, or slaves of 
 the soil, were it to be accounted otherwise. This is something 
 like the brocard expressed by the learned Sanchez in his work 
 De Jure-jurando, which you have questionless consulted upon 
 this occasion. As for those who have calumniated you by leasing- 
 making, I protest to Heaven I think they have justly incurred the 
 penalty of the Meinnonia lex, also called Lex Rhemnia, which is 
 prelected upon by TuUius in his oration In Verrem. I should 
 have deemed, however, Mr. Waverley, that before destining your- 
 self to any special service in the army of the Prince, ye might have 
 inquired what rank the old Bradwardine held there, and whether 
 he would not have been peculiarly happy to have had yoiu: services 
 in the regiment of horse which he is now about to levy." 
 
 Edward eluded this reproach by pleading the necessity of giving 
 an immediate answer to the Prince's proposal, and his uncertainty 
 at the moment whether his friend the Baron was with the army, or 
 engaged upon service elsewhere. 
 
 This punctilio being settled, Waverley made inquiry after Miss 
 Bradwardine, and was informed she had come to Edinburgh with 
 Flora Mac-Ivor, under guard of a party of the Chieftain's men. 
 This step was indeed necessary, Tully-Veolan having become a 
 very unpleasant, and even dangerous place of residence for an un- 
 protected young lady, on account of its vicinity to the Highlands, 
 and also to one or two large villages, which, from aversion as 
 much to the Caterans as zeal for presbytery, had declared them- 
 selves on the side of Government, and formed irregular bodies of 
 partisans, who had frequent skirmishes with the mountaineers, and 
 sometimes attacked the houses of the Jacobite gentry in the braes, 
 or frontier betwixt the mountain and plain. 
 
 " I would propose to you," continued the Baron, " to walk as far 
 as my quarters in the Luckenbooths, and to admire in your 
 passage the High Street, whilk is, beyond a shadow of dubitation, 
 finer than any street, whether in London or Paris. But Rose, 
 poor thing, is sorely discomposed with the firing of the Castle, 
 though I have proved to her from Blondel and Coehorn, that it is 
 impossible a bullet can reach these buildings ; and, besides, I have 
 it in charge from his Royal Highness to go to the camp,<5r leaguer 
 of our army, to see that the men do condamare vasa, that is, truss 
 up their bag and baggage for to-morrow's march." 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 245 
 
 '• That will be easily done by most of us/' said Mac-Ivor, laugh- 
 ■ng. 
 
 " Craving your pardon, Colonel Mac-Ivor, not quite so easily as 
 ye seem to opine. I grant most of your folk left the Highlands, 
 expedited as it were, and free from the incumbrance of baggage ; 
 but it is unspeakable the quantity of useless sprechery which they 
 have collected on their march. I saw one fellow of yours (craving 
 your pardon once more) with a pier-glass upon his back." 
 
 "Ay," said Fergus, still in good-humour, "he would have told 
 you, if you had questioned him, a ganging foot is aye getting. — 
 But come, my dear Baron, you know as well as 1, that a hundred 
 Uhlans, or a single troop of Schmirschitz's Pandours, would make 
 more havock in a country than the knight of the mirror and all 
 the rest of our clans put together." 
 
 " And that is very true likewise," replied the Baron ; " they are, 
 as the heathen author says, ferociores in aspectu, mitiores in actu, 
 of a horrid and grim visage, but more benign in demeanour than 
 their physiognomy or aspect might infer. — But I stand here talking 
 to you two youngsters, when I should be in the King's Park." 
 
 " But you will dine with Waverley and me on your return ? I 
 assure you. Baron, though I can live like a Highlander when needs 
 must, I remember my Paris education, and understand perfectly 
 faire la meilleure chere.^' 
 
 " And wha the deil doubts it," quoth the Baron, laughing, " when 
 ye bring only the cookery, and the gude toun must furnish the 
 materials ? — Weel, I have some business in the toun too : But I'll 
 join you at three, if the vivers can tarry so long." 
 
 So saying, he took leave of his friends, and went to look after 
 the charge which had been assigned him. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 A soldier's dinner. 
 
 , James of the Needle was a man of his word, when whisky 
 was no party to the contract ; and upon this occasion Callum Beg, 
 who still thought himself in Waverley's debt, since he had declined 
 accepting compensation at the expense of mine Host of the Candle- 
 stick's person, took the opportunity of discharging the obligation, 
 by mounting guard over the hereditary tailor of Sliochd nan Ivor ; 
 and, as he expressed himself, "targed him tightly" till the finishing 
 of the job. To rid himself of this restraint, Shemus's needle flew 
 through the tartan like lightning ; and as the artist kept chanting 
 some dreadful skirmish of Fin Macoul, he accomplished at least 
 
246 WAVERLEY. 
 
 three stitches to the death of every hero. The dress was, there- 
 fore, soon ready, for the short coat fitted the wearer, and the rest 
 of the apparel required little adjustment. 
 
 Our hero having now fairly assumed the "garb of old Gaul," 
 weU calculated as it was to give an appearance of strength to a 
 figure, which, though tall and well-made, was rather elegant than 
 robust, I hope my fair readers will excuse him if he looked at him- 
 self in the mirror more than once, and could not help acknow- 
 ledging that the refiectioii seemed that of a very handsome young 
 fellow. In fact, there was no disguising it. His light-brown hair 
 — for he wore no periwig, notwithstanding the universal fashion of 
 the time — became the bonnet which surmounted it. His person 
 promised firmness and agility, to which the ample folds of the 
 tartan added an air of dignity. His blue eye seemed of that 
 kind, — 
 
 " Which melted in love, and which kindled in war ;" 
 
 and an air of bashfulness, which was in reality the effect of want of 
 habitual intercourse with the world, gave interest to his features, 
 without injuring their grace or intelligence. 
 
 " He's a pratty man — a vera pratty man," said Evan Dhu (now 
 Ensign Maccombich) to Fergus's buxom landlady. 
 
 " He's vera weel," said the Widow Floclchart, " but no naething 
 sae weel-far'd as your colonel, ensign." 
 
 " I wasna comparing them," quoth Evan, " nor was I speaking 
 about his being weel-favoured ; but only that Mr. Waverley looks 
 clean-made and deliver, and like a proper lad of his quarters, that 
 wiU not cry barley in a brulzie. And, indeed, he's gleg aneuch at 
 the broadsword and target. I hae played wi' him mysell at Glen- 
 naquoich, and sae has Vich Ian Vohr, often of a Sunday after- 
 noon." 
 
 " Lord forgie ye. Ensign Maccombich," said the alarmed Pres- 
 byterian ; " I'm sure the colonel wad never do the like o' that !" 
 
 " Hout ! hout ! Mrs. Flockhart," replied the ensign, " we're 
 young blude, ye ken ; and young saints, auld deils." 
 
 " But wiU ye fight wi' Sir John Cope the morn, Ensign Mac- 
 combich ?" demanded Mrs. Flockhart of her guest. 
 
 " Troth I'se ensure him, an' he'll bide us, Mrs. Flockhart," re- 
 plied the Gael. 
 
 "And will ye face thae tearing chields, the dragoons. Ensign 
 Maccombich ?" again inquired the landlady. 
 
 " Claw for claw, as Conan said to Satan, Mrs. Flockhart, and the 
 deevil tak the shortest nails." 
 
 "And will the colonel venture on the bagganets himsell?" 
 
WAVERLEY. 247 
 
 " Ye may swear it, Mrs. Flocldiart ; the very first man will he be, 
 by Saint Phedar." 
 
 " Merciful goodness ! and if he's killed amang the red-coats !" 
 exclaimed the soft-hearted widow. 
 
 " Troth, if it should sae befall, Mrs. Flockhart, I ken ane that 
 will no be living to weep for him. But we maun a' live the day, 
 and have our dinner ; and there's Vich Ian Vohr has packed his 
 dorlach, and Mr. Waverle/s wearied wi' majoring yonder afore 
 the muckle pier-glass ; and that grey auld stoor carle, the Baron o' 
 Bradwardine, that shot young Ronald of Ballenkeiroch, he's coming 
 down tlie clos,e wi' that droghling Coghling bailie body they ca' 
 Macwhupple, just like the Laird o' Kittlegab's French cook, wi' his 
 turnspit doggie trindling ahint him, and I am as hungry as a gled, 
 my bonny dow ; sae bid Kate set on the broo', and do ye put on 
 your pinners, for ye ken Vich Ian Vohr winna sit down till ye be 
 at the head o' the table ; — and dinna forget the pint bottle o' brandy, 
 my woman." 
 
 This hint produced dinner. Mrs. Flockhart, smiling in her weeds 
 like the sun through a mist, took the head of the table, thinking 
 within herself, perhaps, that she cared not how long the rebellion 
 lasted, that brought her into company so much above her usual 
 associates. She was supported by Waverley and the Baron, with 
 the advantage of the Chieftain vis-a-vis. The men of peace and 
 of war, that is, Bailie Macwheeble and Ensign Maccombich, after 
 many profound congds to their superiors and each other, took their 
 places on each side of the Chieftain. Their fare was excellent, 
 time, place, and circumstances considered, and Fergus's spirits 
 were extravagantly high. Regardless of danger, and sanguine 
 from temper, youth, and ambition, he saw in imagination all his 
 prospects crowned with success, and was totally indifferent to the 
 probable alternative of a soldier's grave. The Baron apologised 
 slightly for bringing Macwheeble. They had been providing, he 
 said, for the expenses of the campaign. " And, by my faith," said 
 the old man, " as 1 think this will be my last, so 1 just end where I 
 began — I hae evermore found the sinews of war, as a learned 
 author calls the caisse inilitaire, mair difficult to come by than 
 either its flesh, blood, or bones." 
 
 " Whit ! " have you raised our only efficient body of cavalry, 
 and got ye none of the louis-d'or out of the Doutelle,* to help you ?" 
 
 " No, Glennaquoich ; cleverer fellows have been before me." 
 
 " That's a scandal," said the young Highlander ; " but you will 
 share what is left of my subsidy : It will save you an anxious 
 thought to-night, and will be all one to-morrow, for we shall all be 
 provided for, one way or other, before the sun sets." Waverley, 
 
248 WAVERLEY. 
 
 blushing deeply, but with great earnestness, pressed the same 
 request. 
 
 " I thank ye baith, my good lads," said the Baron, "but I will 
 not infringe upon your peculium. Bailie Macwheeble has provided 
 the sum which is necessary." 
 
 Here the Bailie shifted and fidgeted about in his seat, and 
 appeared extremely uneasy. At length after several preliminary 
 hems, and much tautological expression of his devotion to his 
 honour's service, by night or day, living or dead, he began to in- 
 sinuate, " that the Banks had removed a' their ready cash into the 
 Castle ; that, nae doubt, Sandie Gouldie, the silversmith, would do 
 mickle for his honour ; but there was little time to get the wadset 
 made out; and, doubtless, if his honour Glennaquoich, or Mr. 
 Wauverley, could accommodate " 
 
 " Let me hear of no such nonsense, sir," said the Baron, in a tone 
 which rendered Macwheeble mute, " but proceed as we accorded 
 before dinner, if it be your wish to remain in my service." 
 
 To this peremptory order the Bailie, though he felt as if con- 
 demned to suffer a transfusion of blood from his own veins into 
 those of the Baron, did not presume to make any reply. After 
 fidgeting a little while longer, however, he addressed himself to 
 Glennaquoich, and told him, if his honour had mair ready siller 
 than was sufficient for his occasions in the field, he could put it out 
 at use for his honour in safe hands, and at great profit, at this time. 
 
 At this proposal Fergus laughed heartily, and answered, when he 
 had recovered his breath,— r" Many thanks. Bailie ; but you must 
 know, it is a general custom among us soldiers to make our land- 
 lady our banker. — Here, Mrs. Flockhart," said he, taking four or 
 five broad pieces out of a well-filled purse, and tossing the purse 
 itself, with its remaining contents, into her apron, " these will serve 
 my occasions ; do you take the rest : be my banker if I live, and 
 my executor if I die ; but take care to give something to the High- 
 land cailliachs* that shall cry the coronach loudest for the last 
 Vich Ian Vohr." 
 
 " It is the testamentum militare^' quoth the Baron, " whilk, 
 amang the Romans, was privilegiate to be nuncupative." But the 
 soft heart of Mrs. Flockhart was melted within her at the Chief- 
 tain's speech ; she set up a lamentable blubbering, and positively 
 refused to touch the bequest, which Fergus was therefore obliged 
 to resume. 
 
 " Well, then," said the Chief, " if I fall, it will go to the grenadier 
 that knocks my brains out, and I shall take care he works hard 
 for it." 
 
 Bailie Macwheeble was again tempted to put in his oar; for 
 
WAVERLEY. 249 
 
 where cash was concerned, he did not willingly remain silent. 
 " Perhaps he had better carry the gowd to Miss Mac-Ivor, in case 
 of mortality, or accidents of war. It might tak the form of a mortis 
 causa donation in the young leddie's favour, and wad cost but the 
 scrape of a pen to mak it out." 
 
 " The young lady," said Fergus, " should such an event happen, 
 will have other matters to think of than these wretched louis-d'or." 
 
 " True— undeniable— there's nae doubt o' that ; but your honour 
 kens that a full sorrow " 
 
 " Is endurable by most folk more easily than a hungry one ? — 
 True, Bailie, very true ; and I believe there may even be some who 
 would be consoled by such a reflection for the loss of the whole 
 existing generation. But there is a sorrow which knows neither 
 
 hunger nor thirst ; and poor Flora " He paused, and the whole 
 
 company sympathized in his emotion. 
 
 The Baron's thoughts naturally reverted to the unprotected state 
 of his daughter, and the big tear came to the veteran's eye. " If I 
 fall, Macwheeble ; you have all my papers, and know all my affairs ; 
 be just to Rose." 
 
 The Bailie was a man of earthly mould, after all ; a good deal of 
 dirt and dross about him, undoubtedly, but some kindly and just 
 feelings he had, especially where the Baron or his j'oung mistress 
 were concerned. He set up a lamentable howl. " If that doleful 
 day should come, while Duncan Macwheeble had a boddle, it 
 should be Miss Rose's. He wad scroll for a plack the sheet, or 
 she kenn'd what it was to want ; if indeed a' the bonnie baronie o' 
 Bradwardine and TuUy-Veolan, with the fortalice and manor-place 
 thereof (he kept sobbing and whining at every pause), tofts, crofts, 
 mosses, muirs — outfield, infield — ^buildings — orchards — dove-cots — 
 with the right of net and coble in the water and loch of Veolan — 
 teinds, parsonage and vicarage- — annexis, connexis — rights of pas- 
 turage — fuel, feal, and divot — parts, pendicles, and pertinents what- 
 soever — (here he had recourse to the end of his long cravat to wipe 
 his eyes, which overflowed in spite of him, at the ideas which this 
 technical jargon conjured up) — all as more fully described in the 
 proper evidents and titles thereof— and lying within the parish of 
 Bradwardine, and the shire of Perth— if, as aforesaid, they must 
 a' pass from my master's child to Inch-Grabbit, wha's a Whig and 
 a Hanoverian, and be managed by his doer, Jamie Howie, wha's 
 no fit to be a birlieman, let be a bailie " 
 
 The beginning of this lamentation really had something aflfect- 
 ing, but the conclusion rendered laughter irresistible. "Never 
 mind, Bailie," said Ensign Maccombich, " for the gude auld times 
 of rugging and riving (pulling and tearing) are come back again, 
 
250 WAVERLEY. 
 
 an' Sneckus Mac-Snackus (meaning, probably, annexis, connexis), 
 and a' the rest cf your friends, maun gie place to the langest clay- 
 more." 
 
 " And that cUymore shall be ours. Bailie," said the Chieftain, 
 who saw that Macwheeble looked very blank at this intimation. 
 
 " ' We'll give them the metal our mountain affords, 
 
 Lillibulero, buUen a la, 
 And in place of broad-pieces, we'll pay with broadswords, 
 
 Lero, lero, &c. 
 With duns and with debts we will soon clear our score, 
 
 Lillibulero, &c. 
 For the man that's thus paid will crave payment no more, 
 
 Lero, lero,' &c.* 
 
 But come, Bailie, be not cast down ; drink your wine with a joyous 
 heart ; the Baron shall return safe and victorious to Tully-Veolan, 
 and unite Killancureit's lairdship with his own, since the cowardly 
 half-bred swine will not turn out for the Prince like a gentleman." 
 
 " To be sure, they lie maist ewest (contiguous)," said the Bailie, 
 wiping his eyes, "and should naturally'fa' under the same factory." 
 
 " And I," proceeded the Chieftain, " shall take care of myself, 
 too ; for you must know, I have to complete a good work here, by 
 bringing Mrs. Flockhart into the bosom of the Catholic Church, or 
 at least half way, and that is to your Episcopal meeting-house. O 
 Baron ! if you heard her fine counter-tenor admonishing Kate and 
 Matty in the morning, you, who understand music, would tremble 
 at the idea of hearing her shriek in the psalmody of Haddo's 
 Hole." 
 
 " Lord forgie you, colonel, how ye rin on ! But I hope your 
 honours will tak tea before ye gang to the palace, and I maun gang 
 and mask it for you." 
 
 So saying, Mrs. Flockhart left the gentlemen to their own con- 
 versation, which, as might be supposed, turned chiefly upon the 
 approaching events of the campaign. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 THE BALL. 
 
 Ensign Maccomeich having gone to the Highland camp upon 
 duty, and Bailie Macwheeble having retired to digest his dinner 
 and Evan Dhu's intimation of martial law, in some blind change- 
 house, Waverley, with the Baron and the Chieftain, proceeded to 
 Holyrood-House. The two last were in full tide of spirits, and 
 the Baron rallied in his way our hero upon the handsome figure 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 25' 
 
 which his new dress displayed to advantage. " If you have any 
 design upon the heart of a bonny Scotch lassie, I would premonish 
 you, when you address her, to remember and quote the words of 
 Virgilius : — 
 
 ' Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis. 
 Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes :' 
 
 Whilk verses Robertson of Struan, Chief of the Clan Donnochy 
 (unless the claims of Lude ought to be preferred p-imo loco), has 
 thus elegantly rendered : 
 
 ' For cruel love has gartan'd low my leg. 
 And clad my hurdles in a philabeg.' 
 
 Although, indeed, ye wear the trews, a garment whilk I approve 
 maist of the twa, as mair ancient and seemly." 
 " Or rather," said Fergus, " hear my song : 
 
 ' She wadna hae a Lowland laird, 
 Nor be an English lady ; 
 But she's away wi' Duncan Graeme, 
 And he's row'd her in his plaidy.'" 
 
 By this time they reached the palace of Holyrood, and were an- 
 nounced respectively as they entered the apartments. 
 
 It is but too well known how many gentlemen of rank, education, 
 and fortune, took a concern in the ill-fated and desperate under- 
 taking of 1745. The ladies, also, of Scotland very generally 
 espoused the cause of the gallant and handsome young Prince, 
 who threw himself upon the mercy of his countrymen, rather like a 
 hero of romance than a calculating politician. It is not, therefore, 
 to be wondered that Edward, who had spent the greater part of 
 his life in the solemn seclusion of Waverley-Honour, should have 
 been dazzled at the liveliness and elegance of the scene now ex- 
 hibited in the long-deserted halls of the Scottish palace. The 
 accompaniments, indeed, fell short of splendour, being such as the 
 confusion and hurry of the time admitted ; still, however, the 
 general effect was striking, and, the rank of the company con- 
 sidered, might well be called brilliant. 
 
 It was not long before the lover's eye discovered the object of 
 his attachment. Flora Mac-Ivor was in the act of returning to 
 her seat, near the top of the room, with Rose Bradwardine by her 
 side. Among much elegance and beauty, they had attracted a 
 great degree of the public attention, being certainly two of the 
 handsomest women present. The Prince took much notice of both, 
 particularly of Flora, with whom he danced ; a preference which 
 
252 WAVERLEY. 
 
 she probably owed to her foreign education, and command of the 
 French and Itahan languages. 
 
 When the bustle attending the conclusion of the dance per- 
 mitted, Edward, almost intuitively, followed Fergus to the place 
 where Miss Mac-Ivor was seated. The sensation of hope, with 
 which he had nursed his affection in absence of the beloved 
 object, seemed to vanish in her presence, and, like one striving to 
 recover the particulars of a forgotten dream, he would have given 
 the world at that moment to have recollected the grounds on which 
 he had founded expectations which now seemed so delusive. He 
 accompanied Fergus with downcast eyes, tingling ears, and the 
 feelings of the criminal, who, while the melancholy cart moves 
 slowly through the crowds that have assembled to behold his exe- 
 cution, receives no clear sensation either from the noise which fills 
 his ears, or the tumult on which he casts his wandering look. 
 
 Flora seemed a little — a very little — affected and discomposed at 
 his approach. " I bring you an adopted son of Ivor," said Fergus. 
 
 " And I receive him as a second brother," replied Flora. 
 
 There was a slight emphasis on the word, which would have 
 escaped every ear but one that was feverish with apprehension. It 
 was, however, distinctly marked, and, combined with her whole 
 tone and manner, plainly intimated, " I will never think of Mr. 
 Waverley as a more intimate connexion." Edward stopped, bowed, 
 and looked at Fergus, who bit his lip ; a movement of anger, which 
 proved that he also had put a sinister interpretation on the recep- 
 tion which his sister had given his friend. " This, then, is an end 
 of my day-dream ! " Such was Waverley's first thought, and it was 
 so exquisitely painful as to banish from his cheek every drop of 
 blood. 
 
 " Good God ! " said Rose Bradwardine, " he is not yet reco- 
 vei'ed ! " 
 
 These words, which she uttered vidth great emotion, were over- 
 heard by the Chevalier himself, who stepped hastily forward, and, 
 taking Waverley by the hand, inquired kindly after his health, and 
 added, that he wished to speak with him. By a strong and sudden 
 effort, which the circumstances rendered indispensable, Waverley 
 recovered himself so far as to folio-*- the Chevalier in silence to a 
 recess in the apartment. 
 
 Here the Prince detained him some time, asking various ques- 
 tions about the great Tory and Catholic families of England, their 
 connexions, their influence, and the state of their affections towards 
 the house of Stuart. To these queries Edward could not at any 
 time have given more than general answers, and it may be supposed 
 that, in the present state of his feelings, his responses were indis- 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 253 
 
 tinct even to confusion. The Chevalier smiled once or twice at the 
 incongruity of his replies, but continued the same style of conver- 
 sation, although he found himself obliged to occupy the principal 
 share of it, until he perceived that Waverley had recovered his 
 presence of mind. It is probable that this long audience was partly 
 meant to further the idea which the Prince desired should be enter- 
 tained among his followers, that Waverley was a character of 
 political influence. But it appeared, from his concluding expressions, 
 that he had a different and good-natured motive, personal to our 
 hero, for prolonging the conference. " I cannot resist the tempta- 
 tion," he said, " of boasting of my own discretion as a lady's 
 confidant. You see, Mr. Waverley, that I know all, and I assure 
 you I am deeply interested in the affair. But, my good young 
 friend, you must put a more severe restraint upon your feelings. 
 There are many here whose eyes can see as clearly as mine, but the 
 prudence of whose tongues may not be equally trusted." 
 
 So saying, he turned easily away, and joined a circle of officers at 
 a few paces' distance, leaving Waverley to meditate upon his 
 parting expression, which, though not intelligible to him in its 
 whole purport, was sufficiently so in the caution which the last words 
 recommended. Making, therefore, an effort to show himself worthy 
 of the interest which his new master had expressed, by instant 
 obedience to his recommendation, he walked up to the spot where 
 Flora and Miss Bradwardine were still seated, and having made 
 his compliments to the latter, he succeeded, even beyond his own 
 expectation, in entering into conversation upon general topics. 
 
 If, my dear reader, thou hast ever happened to take post-horses 
 
 at , or at (one at least of which blanks, or more probably 
 
 both, you wiU be able to fill up from an inn near your own resi- 
 dence), you must have observed, and doubtless with sympathetic 
 pain, the reluctant agony with which the poor jades at first apply 
 their galled necks to the collars of the harness. But when the 
 irresistible arguments of the post-boy have prevailed upon them to 
 proceed a mile or two, they will become callous to the first sensa- 
 tion ; and being warm in the harness, as the said post-boy may 
 term it, proceed as if their withers were altogether unwrung. This 
 simile so much corresponds with the state of Waverley's feelings 
 in the course of this memorable evening, that I prefer it (especially 
 as being, I trust, wholly original) to any more splendid illustration, 
 with which Byshe's Art of Poetry might supply me. 
 
 Exertion, like virtue, is its own reward ; and our hero had, more- 
 over, other stimulating motives for persevering in a display of 
 affected composure and indifference to Flora's obvious unkindness. 
 Pride, which supplies its caustic as an useful, though severe, remedy 
 
254 WAVERLEY. 
 
 for the wounds of affection, came rapidly to his aid. Distinguished 
 by the favour of a Prince ; destined, he had room to hope, to play 
 a conspicuous part in the revolution which awaited a mighty king- 
 dom ; excelling, probably, in mental acquirements, and equalling, at 
 least, in personal accomplishments, most of the noble and distin- 
 guished persons with whom he was now ranked ; young, wealthy, 
 and high-born — could he, or ought he, to droop beneath the frown 
 of a capricious beauty ? 
 
 " O nymph, unrelenting and cold as thou art, 
 My bosom is proud as thine own." 
 
 With the feeling expressed in these beautiful lines (which, how- 
 ever, were not then written),* Waverley determined upon con- 
 vincing Flora that he was not to be depressed by a rejection, in 
 which his vanity whispered that perhaps she did her own prospects 
 as much injustice as his. And, to aid this change of feeling, there 
 lurked the secret and unacknowledged hope, that she might learn 
 to prize his affection more highly, when she did not conceive it to 
 be altogether within her own choice to attract or repulse it. There 
 was a mystic tone of encouragement, also, in the Chevalier's words, 
 though he feared they only referred to the wishes of Fergus in 
 favour of an union between him and his sister. But the whole cir- 
 cumstances of time, place, and incident, combined at once to 
 awaken his imagination, and to call upon him for a manly and 
 •decisive tone of conduct, leaving to fate to dispose of the issue. 
 Should he appear to be the only one sad and disheartened on the 
 eve of battle, how greedily would the tale be commented upon by 
 the slander which had been already but too busy with his fame .■■ 
 Never, never, he internally resolved, shall my unprovoked enemies 
 possess such an advantage over my reputation. 
 
 Under the influence of these mixed sensations, and cheered at 
 times by a smile of intelligence and approbation from the Prince as 
 he passed the group, Waverley exerted his powers of fancy, anima- 
 tion, and eloquence, and attracted the general admiration of the 
 company. The conversation gradually assumed the tone best 
 qualified for the display of his talents and acquisitions. The gaiety 
 of the evening was exalted in character, rather than checked, by 
 the approaching dangers of the morrow. All nerves were strung 
 for the future, and prepared to enjoy the present. This mood of 
 mind is highly favourable for the exercise of the powers of imagi- 
 nation, for poetry, and for that eloquence which is allied to poetry. 
 Waverley, as we have elsewhere observed, possessed at times a 
 wonderful flow of rhetoric ; and, on the present occasion, he touched 
 more than once the higher notes of feeling, and then again ran off 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 255 
 
 in a wild voluntary of fanciful mirth. He was supported and excited 
 toy kindred spirits, who felt the same impulse of mood and time ; 
 and even those of more cold and calculating habits were hurried 
 along by the torrent. Many ladies declined the dance, which stiU 
 went forward, and, under various pretences, joined the party to 
 ■which the " handsome young Englishman " seemed to have attached 
 himself. He was presented to several of the first rank, and his 
 manners, which for the present were altogether free from the bashful 
 restraint by which, in a moment of less excitation, they were usually 
 ■clouded, gave universal delight. 
 
 Flora Mac-Ivor appeared to be the only female present who re- 
 garded him with a degree of coldness and reserve ; yet even she 
 ■could not suppress a sort of wonder at talents, which, in tlie course 
 ■of their acquaintance, she had never seen displayed with equal 
 brilliancy and impressive effect. I do not know whether she might 
 not feel a momentary regret at having taken so decisive a resolution 
 ■upon the addresses of a lover, who seemed fitted so well to fiU a 
 liigh place in the highest stations of society. Certainly she had 
 hitherto accounted among the incurable deficiencies of Edward's 
 ■disposition, the mauvaise honte, which, as she had been educated 
 in the first foreign circles, and was little acquainted with the shyness 
 ■of English manners, was, in her opinion, too nearly related to 
 timidity and imbecility of disposition. But if a passing wish 
 ■occurred that Waverley could have rendered himself uniformly 
 ■thus amiable and attractive, its influence was momentary ; for 
 ■circumstances had arisen since they met, which rendered, in her 
 eyes, the resolution she had formed respecting him, final and 
 iiTevocable. 
 
 With opposite feelings, Rose Bradwardine bent her whole soul 
 to listen. She felt a secret triumph at the public tribute paid to one, 
 whose merit she had learned to prize too early and too fondly. With- 
 ■out a thought of jealousy, without a feeling of fear, pain, or doubt, 
 :and undisturbed by a single selfish consideration, she resigned her- 
 self to the pleasure of observing the general murmur of applause. 
 When Waverley spoke, her ear was exclusively filled *-ith his voice ; 
 -when others answered, her eye took its turn of observation, and 
 seemed to watch his reply. Perhaps the delight which she experi- 
 ■enced in the course of that evening, though transient, and followed 
 "by much sorrow, was in its nature the most pure and disinterested 
 ■which the human mind is capable of enjoying. 
 
 " Baron," said the Chevalier, " ! would not trust my mistress in 
 the company of your young friend. He is really, though perhaps 
 somewhat romantic, one of the most fascinating young men whom I 
 iave ever seen." 
 
2S6 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " And by my honour, sir," replied the Baron, " the lad can some- 
 times be as dowff as a sexagenary like myself. If your Royal 
 Highness had seen him dreaming and dozing about the banks of 
 TuUy-Veolan like an hypochondriac person, or, as Burton's Anato- 
 mia hath it, a phrenesiac or lethargic patient, you would wonder 
 where he hath sae suddenly acquired all this fine sprack festivity 
 and jocularity." 
 
 "Truly," said Fergus Mac-Ivor, "I think it can only be the 
 inspiration of the tartans ; for, though Waverley be always a young 
 fellow of sense and honour, I have hitherto often found him a very 
 absent and inattentive companion." 
 
 " We are the more obliged to him," said the Prince, " for having 
 I'eserved for this evening qualities which even such intimate friends 
 had not discovered. — But come, gentlemen, the night advances, and 
 the business of to-morrow must be early thought upon. Each take 
 charge of his fair partner, and honour a small refreshment with 
 your company." ' 
 
 He led the way to another suite of apartments, and assumed the 
 seat and canopy at the head of a long range of tables, with an air 
 of dignity mingled with courtesy, which well became his high birth 
 and lofty pretensions. An hour had hardly flown away when the 
 musicians played the signal for parting, so well known in Scot- 
 land.* 
 
 " Good-night, then," said the Chevalier, rising ; " Good-night, 
 and joy be with you ! — Good-night, fair ladies, who have so highly 
 honoured a proscribed and banished Prince. — Good-night, my 
 brave friends ! — may the happiness we have this evening experi- 
 enced be an omen of our return to these our paternal halls, speedily 
 and in triumph, and of many and many future meetings of mirth 
 and pleasure in the palace of Holyrood ! " 
 
 When the Baron of Bradwardine afterwards mentioned this, 
 adieu of the Chevalier, he never failed to repeat, in a melancholy 
 tone, 
 
 " Audiit, et voti Phcebus succedere partem 
 Mente dedit ; partem volucres dispersit in auras;" 
 
 "which," as he added, " is weel rendered into English metre bymy> 
 friend Bangour : 
 
 " ' Ae half the prayer, wi' Phoebus grace did find, 
 The t'other half he whistled down the wind.' " 
 
W.WERLEY. 
 
 aw 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 THE MARCH. 
 
 The conflicting passions and exhausted feelings of Waverley had 
 resigned him to late but sound repose. He was dreaming of Glen- 
 naquoich, and had transfe'n-ed to the halls of Ian nan Chaistel the 
 festal train which so lately graced those of Holyrood. The pibroch 
 too was distinctly heard ; and this at least was no delusion, for the 
 "proud step of the chief piper" of the "chlain Mac-Ivor" was 
 perambulating the court before the door of his Chieftain's quarters, 
 and, as Mrs. Flockhart, apparently no friend to his minstrelsy, was 
 pleased to observe, " garring the very stane-and-lime wa's dingle 
 wi'his screeching." Of course, it soon became too powerful for 
 Waverley's dream, with which it had at first rather harmonized. 
 
 The sound of Callum's brogues in his apartment (for Mac-Ivor 
 had again assigned Waverley to his care) was the next note of 
 parting. " Winna yere honour bang up ? Vich Ian Vohr and ta 
 Prince are awa to the lang green glen ahint the clachan, tat they 
 ca' the King's Park,* and mony ane's on his ain shanks the day, 
 that win be carried on ither folk's ere night." 
 
 Waverley sprung up, and, with CaUum's assistance and instruc- 
 tions, adjusted his tartans in proper costume. Galium told him also, 
 " tat his leather dorlach wi' the lock on her was come frae Doune, 
 and she was awa again in the wain wi' Vich Ian Vohr's walise." 
 
 By this periphrasis Waverley readily apprehended his portman- 
 teau was intended. He thought upon the mysterious packet of the 
 maid of the cavern, which seemed always to escape him when 
 within his very grasp. But this was no time for indulgence of 
 curiosity ; and having declined Mrs. Flockhart's compliment of a 
 morning, i. e. a matutinal dram, being probably the only man in 
 the Chevalier's army by whom such a courtesy would have been 
 rejected, he made his adieus, and departed with Galium. 
 
 " Galium," said he, as they proceeded down a dirty close to 
 gain the southern skirts of the Ganongate, " what shall I do for a 
 horse?" 
 
 " Ta deil ane ye maun think o'," said Galium. " Vich Ian Vohr's 
 marching on foot at the head o' his kin (not ta say ta Prince, wha 
 does the like), wi' his target on his shoulder ; and ye maun e'en be 
 neighbour-like." 
 
 " And so I will, Galium — give me my target ; — so, there we are 
 jSxed. How does it look ? " 
 
 " Like the bra' Highlander tat's painted on the board afore the 
 
 R 
 
2S8 WAVERLEY. 
 
 mickle change-house they ca' Luckie Middlemass's," answered 
 Galium ; meaning, I must observe, a high compliment, for, in his 
 opinion, Luckie Middlemass's sign was an exquisite specimen of 
 art. Waverley, however, not feeling the full force of this polite 
 simile, asked him no farther questions. 
 
 Upon extricating themselves from the mean and dirty suburbs of 
 the metropolis, and emerging into the open air, Waverley felt a 
 renewal both of health and spirits, and turned his recollection with 
 firmness upon the events of the preceding evening, and with hope 
 and resolution towards those of the approaching day. 
 
 When he had surmounted a small craggy eminence, called St. 
 Leonard's Hill, the King's Park, or the hollow between the moun- 
 tain of Arthur's Seat, and the rising grounds on which the southern 
 part of Edinburgh is now built, lay beneath him, and displayed a 
 singular and animating prospect. It was occupied by the army of 
 the Highlanders, now in the act of preparing for their march. 
 Waverley had already seen something of the kind at the hunting- 
 match which he attended with Fergus Mac-Ivor ; but this was on 
 a scale of much greater magnitude, and incomparably deeper inte- 
 rest. The rocks, which formed the background of the scene, and 
 the very sky itself, rang with the clang of the bagpipers, summoning, 
 forth, each with his appropriate pibrocli, his chieftain and clan. 
 The mountaineers, rousing themselves from their couch under the 
 canopy of heaven, with the hum and bustle of a confused and 
 irregular multitude, like bees, alarmed and arming in their hives, 
 seemed to possess all the pliability of movement fitted to execute 
 military manoeuvres. Their motions appeared spontaneous and 
 confused, but the result was order and regularity ; so that a general 
 must have praised the conclusion, though a. martinet might have 
 ridiculed the method by which it was attained. 
 
 The sort of complicated medley created by the hasty arrange- 
 ments of the various clans under their respective banners, for the 
 purpose of getting into the order of march, was m itself a gay and 
 lively spectacle. They had no tents to strike, having generally, 
 and by choice, slept upon the open field, although the autumn was 
 now waning, and the nights began to be frosty. For a little space, 
 while they were getting into order, there was exhibited a changing, 
 fluctuating, and confused appearance of waving tartans and float- 
 ing plumes, and of banners displaying the proud gathering word 
 of Clanronald, Canton Coheriga — (Gainsay who dares ;) Loch-Sloy, 
 the watchword of the Mac-Farlanes ; Forth, Jortmie, and fill the 
 fetters, the motto of the IVfarquis of TuUibardine ; Bydand, that 
 of Lord Lewis Gordon ; and the appropriate signal words and 
 lemblems of many other chieftains and clans. 
 
WAVERLEY. 259 
 
 At length the mixed and wavering multitude aiTanged themselves 
 into a narrow and dusky column of great length, stretching through 
 the whole extent of the valley. In the front of the column the 
 standard of the Chevaher was displayed, bearing a red cross upon 
 2. white gi-ound, with the motto Tandem Trmmphatis. The few 
 cavalry being chiefly Lowland gentry, with their domestic sei-vants 
 and retainers, formed the advance guard of the army ; and their 
 standards, of which they had rather too many in respect of their 
 numbers, were seen waving upon the extreme verge of the horizon. 
 Many horsemen of this body, among whom Waverley accidently 
 remarked Balmawhapple, and his lieutenant, Jinker (which last, 
 however, had been reduced, with several others, by the advice of 
 the Baroii of Bradwardine, to the situation of what he called 
 reformed officers, or reformadoes), added to the liveliness, though 
 by no means to the regularity, of the scene, by galloping their 
 horses as fast forward as the press would permit, to join their 
 proper station in the van. The fascinations of the Circes of the 
 High Street, and the potations of strength with which they had 
 been drenched over night, had probably detained these heroes 
 within the walls of Edinburgh somewhat later than was consistent 
 with their morning duty. Of such loiterers, the prudent took the 
 longer and circuitous but more open route, to attain their place in 
 the march, by keeping at some distance from the infantry, and 
 making their way through the enclosures to the right, at the 
 expense of leaping over or pulling down the dry-stone fences. The 
 irregular appearance and vanishing of these small parties of horse- 
 men, as well as the confusion occasioned by those who endeavoured, 
 though generally without effect, to press to the front through the 
 crowd of Highlanders, maugre their curses, oaths, and opposition, 
 added to the picturesque wildness what it took from the military 
 regularity of the scene. 
 
 While Waverley gazed upon this remarkable spectacle, rendered 
 yet more impressive by the occasional discharge of cannon-shot 
 from the Castle at the Highland guards as they were withdrawn 
 from its vicinity to join their main body, Callum, with his usual 
 freedom of interference, reminded him that Vich Ian Vohr's folk 
 were nearly at the head of the column of march which was still 
 distant, and that "they would gang very fast after the cannon 
 fired." Thus admonished, Waverley walked briskly forward, yet 
 often casting a glance upon the darksome clouds of warriors who 
 were collected before and beneath him. A nearer view, indeed, 
 rather diminished the effect impressed on the mind by the more 
 distant appearance of the army. The leading men of each clan 
 were well armed with broadsword, target, and fusee, to which all 
 
 R 2 
 
z6o WAVERLEY. 
 
 added the dirk, and most the steel pistol. But these consisted of 
 gentlemen, that is, relations of the chief, however distant, and who 
 had an immediate title to his countenance and protection. Finer 
 and hardier men could not have been selected out of any army in 
 Christendom ; while the free and independent habits which each 
 possessed, and which each was yet so weU taught to subject to the 
 command of his chief, and the peculiar mode of discipline adopted 
 in Highland warfare, rendered them equally formidable by their 
 individual courage and high spirit, and from their rational convic- 
 tion of the necessity of acting in unison, and of giving their national 
 mode of attack the fullest opportunity of success. 
 
 But, in a lower rank to these, there were found individuals of 
 an inferior description, the common peasantry of the Highland 
 country, who, although they did not allow themselves to be so 
 called, and claimed often, with apparent truth, to be of more 
 ancient descent than the masters whom they served, bore, never- 
 theless, the livery of extreme penury, being indifferently accoutred, 
 and worse armed, half naked, stinted in growth, and miserable in 
 aspect. Each important clan had some of those Helots attached 
 to them ; — thus, the Mac-Couls, though tracing their descent from 
 Comhal, the father of Finn or Fingal, were a sort of Gibeonites, 
 or hereditary servants to the Stewarts of Appin ; the Macbeths, 
 descended from the unhappy monarch of that name, were subjects 
 to the Morays, and clan Donnochy, or Robertsons of Athole ; and 
 many other examples might be given, were it not for the risk of 
 hurting any pride of clanship which may yet be 'left, and thereby 
 drawing a Highland tempest into the shop of my publisher. Now 
 these same Helots, though forced into the field by the arbitrary 
 authority of the chieftains under whom they hewed wood and di'ew 
 water, were, in general, very sparingly fed, ill dressed, and worse 
 armed. The latter circumstance was indeed owing chiefly to the 
 general disarming act, which had been carried into effect ostensibly 
 through the whole Highlands, although most of the chieftains con- 
 trived to elude its influence, by retaining the weapons of their own 
 immediate^ clansmen, and delivering up those of less value, which 
 they collected from these inferior satellites. It followed, as a 
 matter of course, that, as we have already hinted, many of these 
 poor fellows were brought to the field in a very wretched con- 
 dition. 
 
 From this it happened, that, in bodies, the van of which were 
 admirably well armed in their own fashion, the rear resembled 
 actual banditti. Here was a pole-axe, there a sword without a 
 scabbard ; here a gun without a lock, there a scythe set straight 
 upon a pole ; and some had only their dirks, and bludgeons or 
 
^ ■ 
 
 1 
 
 ?i\ 
 
 1^ 
 
WAVERLEY. 261 
 
 stakes pulled out of hedges. The grim, uncombed, and wild 
 appearance of these men, most of whom gazed with all the admira- 
 tion of ignorance upon the most ordinary production of domestic 
 art, created surprise in the Lowlands, but it also created terror. 
 So little was the condition of the Highlands known at that late 
 period, that the character and appearance of their population, 
 while thus sallying forth as military adventurers, conveyed to the 
 ■south-country Lowlanders as much surprise as if an invasion of 
 African Negroes, or Esquimaux Indians, had issued forth from the 
 northern mountains of their own native country. It cannot there- 
 fore be wondered ii Waverley, who had hitherto judged of the 
 Highlanders generally, from the samples which the policy of Fergus 
 had from time to time exhibited, should have felt damped and 
 astonished at the daring attempt of a body not then exceeding 
 four thousand men, and of whom not above half the number, at 
 the utmost, were armed, to change the fate, and alter the dynasty, 
 of the British kingdoms. 
 
 As he moved along the column, which still remained stationary, 
 an iron gun, the only piece of artillery possessed by the army 
 which meditated so important a revolution, was fired as the signal 
 of march. The Chevalier had expressed a wish to leave this use- 
 less piece of ordnance behind him ; but, to his surprise, the High- 
 land chiefs interposed to solicit that it might accompany their 
 march, pleading the prejudices of their followers, who, little accus- 
 tomed to artillery, attached a degree of absurd importance to this 
 field-piece, and expected it would contribute essentially to a victory 
 which they could only owe to their own muskets and broadswords. 
 Two or three French artillerymen were therefore appointed to the 
 management of this military engine, which was drawn along by a 
 string of Highland ponies, and' was, after all, only used for the 
 purpose of firing signals.* 
 
 No sooner was its voice heard upon the present occasion, than 
 the whole line was in motion. A wild cry of ipy from the advan- 
 cing battalions rent the air, and was then ^osl in the shrill clangour 
 of tke bagpipes, as the sound of these, in their turn, was partially 
 drowned by the heavy tread of so many men put at once into motion. 
 The banners glittered and shook as they moved forward, and the 
 horse hastened to occupy their station as the advanced guard, 
 and to push on reconnoitring parties to ascertain and report 
 the motions of the enemy. They vanished from Waverley's eye 
 as they wheeled round the base of Arthur's Seat, under the re- 
 markable ridge of basaltic rocks which fronts the little lake of 
 Duddingston. 
 
 The infantry followed in the same direction, regulating their 
 
262 WAVERLEY. 
 
 pace by another body which occupied a road more to the south- 
 ward. It cost Edward some exertion of activity to attain tlie place 
 which Fergus's followers occupied in the line of march. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 AN INCIDENT GIVES RISE TO UNAVAILING REFLECTIONS. 
 
 When Waverley reached that part of the column which 
 was filled by the clan of Mac-Ivor, they halted, formed, and 
 received him with a triumphant flourish upon the bagpipes, and a 
 loud shout of the men, most of whom knew him personally, and 
 were delighted to see him in the dress of their country and of 
 their sept. "You shout," said a Highlander of a neighbouring 
 clan to Evan Dhu, " as if the Chieftain were just come to your 
 head." 
 
 " Mar e Bran is e a irathair. If it be not Bran, it is Bran's 
 brother," was the proverbial reply of Maccombich.* 
 
 " O, then, it is the handsome Sassenach Duinhd-wassal, that is 
 to be married to Lady Flora ? " 
 
 " That may be, or it may not be ; and it is neither your matter 
 nor mine, Gregor." 
 
 Fergus advanced to embrace the volunteer, and afford him a 
 waiTTi and hearty welcome ; but he thought it necessary to apologize 
 for the diminished numbers of his battalion (which did not exceed 
 three hundred men), by observing, he had sent a good many out 
 upon parties. 
 
 The real fact, however, was, that the defection of Donald Bean 
 Lean had deprived him of at least thirty hardy fellows, whose 
 services he had fully reckoned upon, and that many of his 
 occasional adherents had been recalled by their several chiefs to 
 the standards to which they most properly owed their allegiance. 
 The rival chief of the great northern branch also of his own clan, 
 had mustered his people, although he had not yet declared either 
 for the Government or for the Chevalier, and by his intrigues had 
 in some degree diminished the force with which Fergus took the 
 field. To make amends for these disappointments, it was uni- 
 versally admitted that the followers of Vich Ian Vohr, in point 
 of appearance, equipment, arms, and dexterity in using them, 
 equalled the most choice troops which followed the standard of 
 Charles Edward. Old Ballenkeiroch acted as his major; and, 
 with the other officers who had known Waverley when at Glenna- 
 quoich, gave our hero a cordial reception as the sharer of their 
 future dangers and expected honours. 
 
WAVERLEY. 263 
 
 The route pursued by the Highland army, after leaving the 
 village of Duddingston, was for some time the common post- 
 road betwixt Edinburgh and Haddington, until they crossed the 
 Esk at Musselburgh, when, instead of keeping the low grounds 
 towards the sea, they turned more inland, and occupied the brow 
 of the eminence caUed Carberry Hill, a place already distinguished 
 in Scottish history as the spot where the lovely Mary surrendered 
 herself to her insurgent subjects. This direction was chosen, 
 because the ChevaHer had received notice that the army of the 
 Government, arriving by sea from Aberdeen, had landed at 
 Dunbar, and quartered the night before to the west of Haddington, 
 with the intention of falling down towards the seaside, and ap- 
 proaching Edinburgh by the lower coast-road. By keeping the 
 height, which overhung that road in many places, it was hoped the 
 Highlanders might find an opportunity of attacking them to ad- 
 vantage. The army therefore halted upon the ridge of Carberry 
 Hill, both to refresh the soldiers, and as a central situation, from 
 which their march could be directed to any point that the motions 
 of the enemy might render most advisable. While they remained 
 in this position, a messenger arrived in haste to desire Mac-Ivor to 
 come to the Prince, adding, that their advanced post had had a 
 skirmish with some of the enemy's cavalry, and that the Baron of 
 Bradwardine had sent in a few prisoners. 
 
 Waverley walked forward out of the line to satisfy his curiosity, 
 and soon observed five or six of the troopers, who, covered with 
 dust, had galloped in to announce that the enemy were in full 
 march westward along the coast. Passing still a little farther 
 on, he was struck with a groan which issued from a hovel. He 
 approached the spot, and heard a voice, in the provincial English 
 of his native county, which endeavoured, though frequently 
 interrupted by pain, to repeat the Lord's Prayer. The voice of 
 distress always found a ready answer in our hero's bosom. He 
 entered the hovel, which seemed to be intended for what is called, 
 in the pastoral counties of Scotland, a smearing-hozise j and in its 
 obscurity Edward could only at first discern a sort of red bundle ; 
 for those who had stripped the wounded man of his arms, and part 
 of his clothes, had left him the dragoon-cloak in which he was 
 enveloped. 
 
 " For the love of God," said the wounded man, as he heard 
 Waverley's step, '' give me a single drop of water ! " 
 
 "You shall have it," answered Waverley, at the same time 
 raising him in his arms, bearing him to the door of the hut, and 
 giving him some drink from his flask. 
 
 " I should know that voice," said the man ; but, looking on 
 
264 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Waverle/s dress with a bewildered look, — '' no, this is not the 
 young squire ! " 
 
 This was the common phrase by which Edward was distin- 
 guished on the estate of Waverley-Honour, and the sound now 
 thrilled to his heart with the thousand recollections which the 
 well-known accents of his native country had already contributed 
 to awaken. " Houghton ! " he said, gazing on the ghastly features 
 which death was fast disiiguring, " can this be you ? " 
 
 " I never thought to hear an English voice again," said the 
 wounded man ; " they left me to live or die here as I could, when 
 they found I would say nothing about the strength of the regiment. 
 But, O squire ! how could you stay from us so long, and let us be 
 tempted by that fiend of the pit, Ruffin ? — we should have followed 
 you through flood and fire, to be sure." 
 
 " Ruffin ! I assure you, Houghton, you have been vilely im- 
 posed upon." 
 
 " I often thought so," said Houghton, " though they showed us 
 your very seal; and so Timms was shot, and I was reduced to the 
 ranks." 
 
 " Do not exhaust your strength in speaking," said Edward ; " I 
 will get you a surgeon presently." 
 
 He saw Mac-Ivor approaching, who was now returning from 
 head-quarters, where he had attended a council of war, and 
 hastened to meet him. " Brave news !" shouted the Chief; "we 
 shall be at it in less than two hours. The Prince has put himself 
 at the head of the advance, and as he drew his sword, called out, 
 ' My friends, I have thrown away the scabbard.' Come, Waverley, 
 we move instantly." 
 
 " A moment, — a moment ; this poor prisoner is dying ; — where 
 shall I find a surgeon ? " 
 
 " Why, where should you ? We have none, you know, but two 
 or three French fellows, who, I believe, are little better than 
 garfons apothicaires." 
 
 " But the man will bleed to death." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said Fergus, in a momentary fit of compassion ; 
 then instantly added, " but it will be a thousand men's fate before 
 night ; so come along.'' 
 
 " I cannot ; I tell you he is a son of a tenant of my uncle's." 
 
 " O, if he's a follower of yours, he must be looked to ; I'll send 
 Galium to you. But diaoul! — ceade millia molligheart!" con- 
 tinued the impatient Chieftain, — " what made an old soldier, like 
 Bradwardine, send dying men here to cumber us ? " • 
 
 Galium came with his usual alertness ; and, indeed, Waveiley 
 rather gained than lost in the opinion of the Highlanders, by hi? 
 
WAVERLEY. 265 
 
 anxiety about the wounded man. They would not have understood 
 the general philanthropy, which rendered it almost impossible for 
 Waverley to have passed any person in such distress ; but, as ap- 
 prehending that the sufferer was one of his following* they 
 unanimously allowed that Waverleys conduct was that of a kind 
 and considerate chieftain, who merited the attachment of his 
 people. In about a quarter of an hour poor Humphrey breathed 
 his last, praying his young master, when he returned to Waverley- 
 Honour, to be kind to old Job Houghton and his dame, and con- 
 juring him not to fight with these wild petticoat men against old 
 England. 
 
 When his last breath was drawn, Waverley, who had beheld with 
 sincere sorrow, and no slight tinge of remorse, the final agonies of 
 mortality, now witnessed for the first time, commanded Galium 
 to remove the body into the hut. This the young Highlander per- 
 formed, not without examining the pockets of the defunct, which, 
 however, he remarked, had been pretty well spung'd. He took 
 the cloak, however, and proceeding with the provident caution of 
 a spaniel hiding a bone, concealed it among some furze, and care- 
 fully marked the spot, observing, that if he chanced to return that 
 way, it would be an excellent rokelay for his auld mother Elspat. 
 
 It was by a considerable exertion that they regained their place 
 in the marching column, which was now moving rapidly forward to 
 occupy the high grounds above the village of Tranent, between 
 which and the sea lay the purposed majrch of the opposite army. 
 
 This melancholy interview with his late sergeant forced many un- 
 availing and painful reflections upon Waverley's mind. It was 
 clear, from the confession of the man, that Colonel Gardiner's 
 proceedings had been strictly warranted, and even rendered in- 
 dispensable, by the steps taken in Edward's name to induce the 
 soldiers of his troop to mutiny. The circumstance of the seal, he 
 now, for the first time, recollected, and that he had lost it in the 
 cavern of the robber. Bean Lean. That the artful villain had 
 secured it, and used it as the means of carrying on an intrigue in 
 the regiment for his own purposes, was sufficiently evident ; and 
 Edward had now little doubt that in the packet placed in his 
 portmanteau by his daughter, he should find further light upon his 
 proceedings. In the meanwhile, the repeated expostulation of 
 Houghton, — " Ah, squire, why did you leave us ?" rung like a knell 
 in his ears. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I have indeed acted towards you with thought- 
 less cruelty. I brought you from your paternal fields, and the 
 protection of a generous and kind landlord, and when I had 
 subjected you to aU the rigour of military discipline, I shunned to 
 
265 WAVERLEY. 
 
 bear my own share of the buraen, and wandered from the duties 
 I had undertaken, leaving alike those whom it was my business to 
 protect, and my own reputation, to suffer under the artifices of 
 villany. O, indolence and indecision of mind ! if not in your- 
 selves vices, to how much exquisite misery and mischief do you 
 frequently prepare the way ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE EVE OF BATTLE. 
 
 Although the Highlanders marched on very fast, the sun was 
 declining when they arrived upon the brow of those high grounds 
 which command an open and extensive plain stretching northward 
 to the sea, on which are situated, but at a considerable distance 
 from each other, the small villages of Seaton and Cockenzie, and 
 the larger one of Preston. One of the low coast-roads to 
 Edinburgh passed through this plain, issuing upon it from the 
 enclosures of Seaton-house, and at the town or village of Preston 
 again entering the defiles of an enclosed country. By this way 
 the English general had chosen to approach the metropolis, both 
 as most commodious for his cavalry, and being probably of 
 opinion that, by doing so, he would meet in front with the High- 
 landers advancing from Edinburgh in the opposite direction. In 
 this he was mistaken ; for the sound judgment of the Chevalier, 
 or of those to whose advice he listened, left the direct passage free, 
 but occupied the strong ground by which it was overlooked and 
 commanded. 
 
 When the Highlanders reached the heights above the plain 
 described, they were immediately formed in array of battle along 
 the brow of the hill. Ahnost at the same instant the van of the 
 English appeared issuing from among the trees and enclosures 
 of Seaton, with the purpose of occupying the level plain between 
 the high ground and the sea ; the space which divided the armies 
 being only about half a mile in breadth. Waverley could plainly 
 see the squadrons of dragoons issue, one after another, from the 
 defiles, with their videttes in front, and form upon the plain, with 
 their front opposed to that of the ' Prince's army. They were 
 followed by a train of field-pieces, which, when they reached the 
 flank of the dragoons, were also brought into line, and pointed 
 against the heights. The march was continued by three or four 
 regiments of infantry marching in open column, their fixed 
 bayonets showing like successive edges of steel, and their arms 
 glancing like lightning, as, at a signal given, they also at once' 
 
WAVERLEY. 267 
 
 wheeled up, and were placed in direct opposition to the High- 
 landers. A second train of artillery, with another regiment of 
 horse, closed the long march, and formed on the left flank of the 
 infantry, the whole line facing southward. 
 
 While the English army went through these evolutions, the 
 Highlanders showed equal promptitude and zeal for battle. As 
 fast as the clans came upon the ridge which fronted their enemy, they 
 were formed into line, so that both armies got into complete order 
 of battle at the same moment. When this was accomplished, the 
 Highlanders set up a tremendous yell, which was re-echoed by the 
 heights behind them. The regulars, who were in high spirits, 
 returned a loud shout of defiance, and fired one or two of their 
 cannon upon an advanced post of the Highlanders. The latter 
 displayed great earnestness to proceed instantly to the attack, Evan 
 Dhu urging to Fergus, by way of argument, that " the sidier roy 
 was tottering like an egg upon a staff, and that they had a' the 
 vantage of the onset, for even a haggis (God bless her !) could 
 charge down hill." 
 
 But the ground through which the mountaineers must have 
 descended, although not of great extent, was impracticable in its 
 character, being not only marshy, but intersected with walls of dry 
 stone, and traversed in its whole length by a very broad and deep 
 ditch, circumstances which must have given the musketry of the 
 regulars dreadful advantages, before the mountaineers could have 
 used their swords, on which they were taught to rely. The 
 authority of the commanders was therefore interposed to curb the 
 impetuosity of the Highlanders, and only a few marksmen were 
 sent down the descent to skirmish with the enemy's advanced 
 posts, and to reconnoitre the ground. 
 
 Here then was a mihtary spectacle of no ordinary interest, or 
 usual occurrence. The two armies, so different in aspect and 
 discipline, yet each admirably trained in its own peculiar mode of 
 war, upon whose conflict the temporary fate at least of Scotland 
 appeared to depend, now faced each other like two gladiators in 
 the arena, each meditating upon the mode of attacking their 
 enemy. The leading officers, and the general's staff of each army, 
 could be distinguished in front of their lines, busied with spy- 
 glasses to watch each other's motions, and occupied in despatching 
 the orders and receiving the intelligence conveyed by the aides-de- 
 camp and orderly men, who gave life to the scene by galloping 
 along in different directions, as if the fate of the day depended 
 upon the speed of their horses. The space between the armies 
 was at times occupied by the partial and irregular contest of indi- 
 vidual sharpshooters, 'and a hat or bonnet was occasionally seen to 
 
268 WAVERLEY. 
 
 fall, as a wounded man was borne off by his comrades. These, 
 however, were but trifling skirmishes, for it suited the views of 
 neither party to advance in that direction. From the neighbouring 
 hamlets, the peasantry cautiously showed themselves, as if watching 
 the issue of the expected engagement ; and at no great distance iii 
 the bay were two square-rigged vessels, bearing the English 
 flag, whose tops and yards were crowded with less timid 
 spectators. 
 
 When this awful pause had lasted for a short time, Fergus, with 
 another chieftain, received orders to detach their clans towards the 
 village of Preston, in order to threaten the right flank of Cope's 
 army, and compel him to a change of position. To enable him to 
 execute these orders, the Chief of Glennaquoich occupied the 
 churchyard of Tranent, a commanding situation, and a convenient 
 place, as Evan Dhu remarked, " for any gentleman who might have 
 the misfortune to be killed, and chanced to be curious about 
 Christian burial." To check or dislodge this party, the English 
 genera] detached two guns, escorted by a strong party of cavalry. 
 They approached so near, that Waverley could plainly recognise 
 the standard of the troop he had formerly commanded, and hear 
 the trumpets and kettle-drums sound the signal of advance, which 
 he had so often obeyed. He could hear, too, the well-known word 
 given in the English dialect, by the equally well-distinguished voice 
 of the commanding officer, for whom he had once felt so much 
 respect. It was at that instant, that, looking around him, he saw 
 the wild dress and appearance of his Highland associates, heard 
 their whispers in an uncouth and unknown language, looked upon 
 his own dress, so unlike that which he had worn from his infancy, 
 and wished to awake from what seemed at the moment a dream, 
 strange, horrible, and unnatural. " Good God ! " he muttered, 
 " am I then a traitor to my country, a renegade to my standard, 
 and a foe, as that poor dying wretch expressed himself, to my 
 native England ! " 
 
 Ere he could digest or smother the recollection, the tall military 
 form of his late commander came full in view, for the purpose of 
 reconnoitring. " I can hit him now," said Callum, cautiously 
 raising his fusee over the wall under which he lay couched, at 
 scarce sixty yards' distance. 
 
 Edward felt as if he was about to see a parricide committed in 
 his presence ; for the venerable grey hair and striking countenance 
 of the veteran recalled the almost paternal respect with which his 
 officers universally regarded him. But ere he could say " Hold ! " 
 an aged Highlander, who lay beside Callum Beg, stopped his ai-m. 
 " Spare your shot," said the seer, " his hour, is not yet come. But 
 
WAVERLEY. 265 
 
 let him beware of to-morrow — I see his winding-sheet high upon 
 his breast." 
 
 C allum, flint to other considerations, was penetrable to super- 
 stition. He turned pale at the words of the Taishatr, and recovered 
 his piece. Colonel Gardiner, unconscious of the danger he had 
 escaped, turned his horse round, and rode slowly back to the front 
 of his regiment. 
 
 By this time the regular army had assumed a new line, with one 
 flank inclined towards the sea, and the other resting upon the 
 village of Preston ; and, as similar difficulties occurred in attacking 
 their new position, Fergus and the rest of the detachment were 
 recalled to their former post. This alteration created the necessity 
 of a corresponding change in General Cope's army, which was 
 again brought into a line parallel with that of the Highlanders. In 
 these manceuvres on both sides the day-light was nearly consumed, 
 and both armies prepared to rest upon their arms for the night in 
 the lines which they respectively occupied. 
 
 " There ^vill be nothing done to-night," said Fergus to his friend 
 Waverley ; "ere we wrap ourselves in our plaids, let us go see 
 what the Baron is doing in the rear of the line." 
 
 When they approached his post, they found the good old careful 
 officer, after having sent out his night patrols, and posted his 
 sentinels, engaged in reading the Evening Service of the Episcopal 
 Church to the remainder of his troop. His voice was loud and 
 sonorous, and though his spectacles upon his nose, and the 
 appearance of Saunders Sanderson, in military array, performing 
 the functions of clerk, had something ludicrous, yet the circum- 
 stances of danger in which they stood, the military costume of the 
 audience, and the appearance of their horses, saddled and picqueted 
 behind them, gave an impressive and solemn effect to the office of 
 devotion. 
 
 " I have confessed to-day, ere you were awake," whispered Fergus 
 to Waverley ; "yet I am not so strict a Catholic as to refuse to 
 join in this good man's prayers." 
 
 Edward assented; and they remained tiU the Baron had concluded 
 the service. 
 
 As he shut the book, " Now, lads," said he, " have at them in the 
 morning, with heavy hands and light consciences." He then 
 kindly greeted Mac-Ivor and Waverley, who requested to know 
 his opinion of their situation. " Why, you know Tacitus saith 
 ' In rebus bellicis maxime doniinahir Fortuna^ which is equipon- 
 derate with our vernacular adage, ' Luck can maist in the mellee.' 
 But credit me, gentlemen, yon man is not a deacon o' his craft. 
 He damps the spirits of the poor lads he commands, by keeping 
 
270 WAVERLEY. 
 
 them on the defensive, whilk of itself implies inferiority or fear. 
 Now win they lie on their arms yonder, as anxious and as ill at 
 ease as a toad under a harrow, while our men will be quite fresh 
 and blithe for action in the morning. Well, good-night. — One 
 thing troubles me, but if to-morrow goes well off, I will consult 
 
 you about it, Glennaquoich." 
 
 " I could almost apply to Mr. Bradwardine the character which 
 Henry gives of Fluellen," said Waverley, as his friend and he 
 walked towards their bivouac : 
 
 " Though it appears a little out of fashion, 
 There is much care and valour in this ' Scotchman.'" 
 
 "He has seen much service," answered Fergus, "and one is 
 sometimes astonished to find how much nonsense and reason are 
 mingled in his composition. I wonder what can be troubling his 
 mind — probably something about Rose. — Hark! the English are 
 setting their watch." 
 
 The roll of the drum and shrill accompaniment of the fifes 
 swelled up the hill — died away- — resumed its thunder — and was at 
 length hushed. The trumpets and kettle-drums of the cavalry 
 were next heard to perform the beautiful and wild point of war 
 appropriated as a signal for that piece of nocturnal duty, and then 
 finally sunk upon the wind with a shrill and mournful cadence. 
 
 The friends, who. had now reached their post, stood and looked 
 round them ere they lay down to rest. The western sky twinkled 
 with stars, but a frost-mist, rising from the ocean, covered the 
 eastern horizon, and rolled in white wreaths along the plain where 
 the adverse army lay couched upon their arms. Their advanced 
 posts were pushed as far as the side of the great ditch at the 
 bottom of the descent, and had kindled large fires at different 
 intervals, gleaming with obscure and hazy lustre through the 
 heavy fog which encircled them with a doubtful halo. 
 
 The Highlanders, " thick as leaves in Valumbrosa," lay stretched 
 upon the ridge of the hill, buried (excepting their sentinels) in the 
 most profound repose. " How many of these brave fellows will 
 sleep more soundly before to-morrow night, Fergus ! " said 
 Waverley, with an involuntary sigh. 
 
 "You must not think of that," answered Fergus, whose ideas 
 were entirely military. " You must only think of your sword, and 
 by whom it was given. All other reflections are now TOO late." 
 
 With the opiate contained in this undeniable remark, Edward 
 endeavoured to lull the tumult of his conflicting feelings. The 
 Chieftain and he, combining their plaids, made a comfortable and 
 warm couch. Galium, sitting down at their head (for it was his 
 
WAVERLEY. 271 
 
 duty to watch upon the immediate person of the Chief), begjln a 
 long mournful song- in Gaelic, to a low and uniform tune, which 
 like the sound of the wind at a distance, soon lulled them to sleep.' 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 THE CONFLICT. 
 
 When Fergus Mac-Ivor and his friend had slept for a few 
 hours, they were awakened, and summoned to attend the Prince. 
 The distant village -clock was heard to toll three as they hastened 
 to the place where he lay. He was already surrounded by his 
 principal ofScers and the chiefs of clans. A bundle of pease-straw, 
 -which had been lately his couch, now served for his seat. Just as 
 Fergus reached the circle, the consultation had broken up. 
 " Courage, my brave friends ! " said the Chevalier, " and each one 
 put himself instantly at the head of his command; a faithful 
 friend* has offered to guide us by a practicable, though narrow and 
 ■circuitous route, which, sweeping to our right, traverses the broken 
 .ground and morass, and enables us to gain the firm and open plain, 
 upon which the enemy are lying. This difficulty surmounted. 
 Heaven and your good swords must do the rest." 
 
 The proposal spread unanimous joy, and each leader hastened 
 to get his men into order with as little noise as possible. The 
 -army, moving by its right from off the ground on which they had 
 rested, soon entered the path through the morass, conducting their 
 march with astonishing silence and great rapidity. The mist had 
 not risen to the higher grounds, so that for some time they had the 
 advantage of star-light. But this was lost as the stars faded 
 before approaching day, and the head of the marching column, 
 ■continuing its descent, plunged as it were into the heavy ocean of 
 fog, which rolled its white waves over the whole plain, and over 
 the sea by which it was bounded. Some difficulties were now to 
 be encountered, inseparable from darkness, a narrow, broken, and 
 marshy path, and the necessity of preserving union in the march. 
 These, however, were less inconvenient to Highlanders, from their 
 habits of life, than they would have been to any other troops, and 
 they continued a steady and swift movement. 
 
 As the clan of Ivor approached the firm ground, following the 
 track of those who preceded them, the challenge of a patrol was 
 heard through the mist, though they could not see the dragoon by 
 ■whom it was made — " Who goes there ?" 
 
 " Hush ! " cried Fergus, " hush ! Let none answer, as he values 
 
272 WAVRRLEY. 
 
 his life — Press forward ! " and they continued their march with 
 silence and rapidity. 
 
 The patrol fired his carabine upon the body, and the report was 
 instantly followed by the clang of his horse's feet as he galloped 
 off. " Hylax in limine latrat," said the Baron of Bradwardine, 
 who heard the shot ; " that loon will give the alarm." 
 
 The clan of Fergus had now gained the firm plain, which had 
 latelyborne a large crop of corn. But the harvest was gathered 
 in, and the expanse was unbroken by tree, bush, or interruption of 
 any kind. The rest of the army were following fast, when they 
 heard the drums of the enemy beat the general. Surprise, how- 
 ever, had made no part of their plan, so they were not disconcerted 
 by this intimation that the foe was upon his guard and prepared to 
 receive them. It only hastened their dispositions for the combat, 
 which were very simple. 
 
 The Highland army, which now occupied the eastern end of the 
 wide plain, or stubble field, so often referred to, was drawn up in 
 two lines, extending from the morass towards the sea. The first 
 was destined to charge the enemy, the second to act as a reserve. 
 The few horse, whom the Prince headed in person, remained 
 between the two lines. The Adventurer had intimated a resolution 
 to charge in person at the head of his first line ; but his purpose- 
 was deprecated by all around him, and he was with difficulty 
 induced to abandon it. 
 
 Both lines were now moving forward, the first prepared for 
 instant combat. The clans of which it was composed, formed each, 
 a sort of separate phalanx, narrow in front, and in depth ten, 
 twelve, or fifteen files, according to the strength of the following.. 
 The best-armed and best-born, for the words were synonymous, 
 were placed in front of each of these irregular subdivisions. The- 
 others in the rear shouldered forward the front, and by their pres- 
 sure added both physical impulse, and additional ardour and con- 
 fidence, to those who were first to encounter the danger. 
 
 " Down with your plaid, Waverley," cried Fergus, throwing ofF 
 his own ; " we'll win silks for our tartans before the sun is above- 
 the sea." 
 
 The clansmen on every side stript their plaids, prepared their 
 arms, and there was an Awful pause of about three minutes, during 
 which the men, puUing off their bonnets, raised their faces tO' 
 heaven, and uttered a short prayer ; then pulled their bonnets 
 over their brows, and began to move forward at first slowly.. 
 Waverley felt his heart at that moment throb as it would have burst 
 from his bosom. It was not fear, it was not ardour,— it was a com- 
 pound of both, a new and deeply energetic impulse, that with its 
 
WAVERLEY. 273 
 
 first emotion chilled and astounded, then fevered and maddened 
 his mind. The sounds around him combined to exalt his enthu- 
 siasm ; the pipes played, and the clans rushed forward, each in its 
 own dark column. As they advanced they mended their pace, and 
 the muttering sounds of the men to each other began to swell into 
 a wild cry. 
 
 At this moment, the sun, which was now risen above the horizon, 
 dispelled the mist. The vapours rose like a curtain, and showed 
 the two armies in the act of closing. The line of the regulars was 
 formed directly fronting the attack of the Highlanders ; it glittered 
 with the appointments of a complete army, and was flanked by 
 cavalry and artillery. But the sight impressed no terror on the 
 assailants. 
 
 " Forward, sons of Ivor," cried their Chief, " or the Camerons 
 will draw the first blood ! " — They rushed on with a tremendous 
 yell. 
 
 The rest is well known. The horse, who were commanded to 
 charge the advancing Highlanders in the flank, received an irregular 
 fire from their fusees as they ran on, and, seized with a disgraceful 
 panic, wavered, halted, disbanded, and galloped from the field. 
 The artillerymen, deserted by the cavalry,' fled after discharging 
 their pieces, and the Highlanders, who dropped their guns when 
 fired, and drew their broadswords, rushed with headlong fury 
 against the infantry. 
 
 It was at this moment of confusion and terror, that Waverley 
 remarked an English officer, apparently of high rank, standing alone 
 and unsupported by a field-piece, which, after the flight of the men 
 by whom it was wrought, he had himself levelled and discharged 
 against the clan of Mac Ivor, the nearest group of Highlanders 
 within his aim. Struck with his tall, martial figure, and eager to 
 save him from inevitable destruction, Waverley outstripped for an 
 instant even the speediest of the warriors, and, reaching the spot 
 first, called to him to surrender. The officer replied by a thrust 
 with his sword, which Waverley received in his target, and in turn- 
 ing it aside the Englishman's weapon broke. At the same time 
 the battle-axe of Dugald Mahony was in the act of descending upon 
 the officer's head. Waverley intercepted and prevented the blow, 
 and the officer, perceiving further resistance unavailing, and struck 
 with Edward's generous anxiety for his safety, resigned the frag- 
 ment of his sword, and was committed by Waverley to Dugald 
 with strict charge to use him well, and not to pillage his person 
 promising him, at the same time, full indemnification for the spoil. 
 
 On Edward's right, the battle for a few minutes raged fierce and 
 thick. The English infantry, trained in the wars in Flanders, 
 
 s 
 
274 WAVERLEY. 
 
 stood their ground with great courage. But their extended files 
 were pierced and broken in many places by the close masses of the 
 clans ; and in the personal struggle which ensued, the nature of the 
 Highlanders' weapons, and their extraordinary fierceness and 
 activity, gave them a decided superiority over those who had been 
 accustomed to trust much to their array and discipline, and felt 
 that the one was broken and the other useless. Waverley, as he 
 cast his eyes towards this scene of smoke and slaughtei', observed 
 Colonel Gardiner, deserted by his own soldiers in spite of all his 
 attempts to rally them, yet spurring his horse through the field to 
 take the command of a small body of infantry, who, with their backs 
 arranged against the wall of his own park (for his house was close by 
 the field of battle), continued a desperate and unavailing resistance. 
 Waverley could perceive that he had already received many wounds, 
 his clothes and saddle being marked with blood. To save this 
 good and brave man, became the instant object of his most anxious 
 exertions. But he could only witness his fall. Ere Edward could 
 make his way among the Highlanders, who, furious and eager for 
 spoil, now thronged upon each other, he saw his former commander 
 brought from his horse by the blow of a scythe, and beheld him 
 receive, while on the ground, more wounds than would have let out 
 twenty lives. When Waverley came up, however, perception had 
 not entirely fled. The dying warrior seemed to recognise Edward, 
 for he fixed his eye upon him with an upbraiding yet sorrowful 
 look, and appeared to struggle for utterance. But he felt that 
 death was dealing closely with him, and resigning his purpose, and 
 folding his hands as if in devotion, he gave up his soul to his 
 Creator. The look with which he regarded Waverley in his dying 
 moments, did not strike him so deeply at that crisis of hurry and 
 confusion, as when it recurred to his imagination at the distance 
 of some time.* 
 
 Loud shouts of triumph now echoed over the whole field. The 
 battle was fought and won, and the whole baggage, artillery, and 
 military stores of the regular army remained in possession of the 
 victors. Never was a victory more complete. Scarce any escaped 
 from the battle, excepting the cavalry, who had left it at the very 
 onset, and even these were broken into different parties and scattered 
 all over the country. So far as our tale is concerned, we have only 
 to relate the fate of Balmawhapple, who, mounted on a horse 
 as headstrong and stiff-necked as his rider, pursued the flight of the 
 dragoons about four miles from the field of battle, when some dozen 
 of the fugitives took heart of grace, turned round, and, cleaving his 
 skull with their broadswords, satisfied the world that the unfortu- 
 vate gentleman had actually brains, the end of his life thus giving 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 275 
 
 proof of a fact greatly doubted during its progress. His death was 
 lamented by few. Most of those who knew him agreed in the 
 pithy observation of Ensign Maccombich, that there " was mair 
 tint (lost) at Sheriff-Muir." His friend, Lieutenant Jinker, bent his 
 eloquence only to exculpatetis favourite mare from any share in 
 contributing to the catastrophe. " He had tauld the laird a thou- 
 sand times," he said, " that it was a burning shame to put a mar- 
 tingale upon the puir thing, when he would needs ride her wi' a 
 cm-b of half a yard lang ; and that he could na but bring himsell 
 (not to say her) to some mischief, by flinging her down, or other- 
 wise ; whereas if he had had a wee bit rinnin ring on the snaffle, 
 she wad ha' rein'd as cannily as a cadger's pownie." 
 Such was the elegy of the Laird of Balmawhapple.* 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED EMBARRASSMENT. 
 When the battle was over, and all things coming into order, the 
 Baron of Bradwardine, returning from the duty of the day, and 
 having disposed those under his command in their proper stations, 
 sought the Chieftain of Glennaquoich and his friend Edward 
 Waverley. He found the former busied in determining disputes 
 among his clansmen about points of precedence and deeds of 
 valour, besides sundry high and doubtful questions concerning 
 plunder. The most important of the last respected the property of 
 a gold watch, which had once belonged to some unfortunate English 
 officer. The party against whom judgment was awarded consoled 
 himself by observing, " She {i. e., the watch, which he took for a 
 living animal) died the very night Vich Ian Vohr gave her to 
 Murdoch ; " the machine having, in fact, stopped for want of wind- 
 ing up. 
 
 It was just when this important question was decided that the 
 Baron of Bradwardine, with a careful and yet important expression 
 of countenance, joined the two young men. He descended from 
 his reeking charger, the care of which he recommended to one of 
 his grooms. " I seldom ban, sir," said he to the man ; " but if you 
 play any of your hound's-foot tricks, and leave puir Berwick before 
 he's sorted, to rin after spuilzie, deil be wi' me if I do not give your 
 craig a thraw." He .then stroked with great complacency the animal 
 which had borne him through the fatigues of the day, and having 
 taken a tender leave of him,—" Weel, my good young friends, a glo- 
 rious and decisive victory," said he ; " but these loons of troopers fled 
 
 s 2 
 
276 WAVERLEY. 
 
 owcr soon. I should have liked to have shown you the true points of 
 ihtprcelmm equesire, or equestrian combat,whilk their cowardice has 
 postponed, and which I hold to be the pride and terror of warfare. 
 Weel, I have fought once more in this old quarrel, though I admit 
 I could not be so far ben as you lads, being that it was my point of 
 duty to keep together our handful of horse. And no cavalier ought 
 in any wise to begrudge honour that befalls his companions, even 
 though they are ordered upon thrice his danger, whilk, another 
 time, by the blessing of God, may be his own case. — But, Glenna- 
 quoich, and you, Mr. Waverley, I pray ye to give me your best 
 advice on a matter of mickle weight, and which deeply affects the 
 honour of the house of Bradwardine.— I crave your pardon. Ensign 
 Maccombich, and yours, Inveraughlin, and yours, Edderalshen- 
 drach, and yours, sir." 
 
 The last person he addressed was Ballenkeiroch, who, remember- 
 ing the death of his son, loured on him with a look of savage defi- 
 ance. The Baron, quick as lightning at taking umbrage, had 
 already bent his brow, when Glennaquoich dragged his major from 
 the spot, and remonstrated with him, in the authoritative tone of a 
 chieftain, on the madness of reviving a quarrel in such a moment. 
 
 " The ground is cumbered with carcasses," said the old moun- 
 taineer, turning sullenly away ; " one more would hardly have been 
 kenn'd upon it ; and if it wasna for yoursell, Vich Ian Vohr, that 
 one should be Bradwardine's or mine." 
 
 The chief soothed while he hurried him away ; and then returned 
 to the Baron. " It is Ballenkeiroch," he said, in an under and con- 
 fidential voice, " father of the young man who fell eight years since 
 in the unlucky affair at the Mains." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Baron, instantly relaxing the doubtful sternness 
 of his features, " I can take mickle frae a man to whom I have un- 
 happily rendered sic a displeasure as that. Ye were right to apprise 
 me, Glennaquoich ; he may look as black as midnight at Martin- 
 mas ere Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine shall say he does him wrang. 
 Ah ! I have nae male lineage, and I should bear with one I have 
 made childless, though you are aware the blood-wit was made up 
 to your ain satisfaction by assythment, and that I have since 
 expedited letters of slains. — Weel, as I have said, I have no male 
 issue, and yet it is needful that I maintain the honour of my house ; 
 and it is on that score I prayed ye for your peculiar and private 
 attention." 
 
 The two young men awaited to hear him in anxious curiosity. 
 
 " I doubt na, lads," he proceeded, " but your education has been 
 sae seen to, that ye understand the true nature of the feudal 
 tenures ? " 
 
WAVERLEY. 277 
 
 Fergus, afraid of an endless dissertation, answered, "Intimately, 
 Baron," and touched Waverley, as a signal to express no ignorance. 
 
 " And ye are aware, I doubt not, that the holding of the Barony 
 of Bradwardine is of a nature alike honourable and peculiar, being 
 blanch (which Craig opines ought to be Latinated blancum, or 
 T:z&i&x francum, a free holding), pro servitio detrahendi, seu exuendi, 
 caligas regis post battalliamy Here Fergus turned his falcon eye 
 upon Edward, with an almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrow, 
 to which his shoulders corresponded in the same degree of eleva- 
 tion. " Now, twa points of dubitation occur to me upon this topic. 
 First, whether this service, or feudal homage, be at any event due 
 to the person of the Prince, the words being per expressum, caligas 
 REGIS, the boots of the king himself ; and I pray your opinion anent 
 that particular before we proceed farther." 
 
 " Why, he is Prince Regent," answered Mac-Ivor, with laudable 
 composure of countenance ; " and in the court of France all the 
 honours are rendered to the person of the Regent which are due to 
 that of the King. Besides, were I to pull off either of their boots, I 
 would render that service to the young Chevalier ten times more 
 ■willingly than to his father." 
 
 " Ay, but I talk not of personal predilections. However, your 
 authority is of great weight as to the usages of the Court of France : 
 And doubtless the Prince, as alter ego, may have a right to claim 
 the Jiornagium of the great tenants of the crown, since all faithful 
 subjects are commanded, in the commission of regency, to respect 
 him as the King's own person. Far, therefore, be it from me to 
 diminish the lustre of his authority, by withholding this act of 
 homage, so peculiarly calculated to give it splendour ; for I question 
 if the Emperor of Germany hath his boots taken off by a free baron 
 of the empire. But hei'e lieth the second difficulty — The Prince 
 wears no boots, but simply brogues and trews." 
 
 This last dilemma had almost disturbed Fergus's gravity. 
 
 " Why," said he, " you know. Baron, the proverb tells us, ' It's ill 
 taking the breeks off a Highlandman,' — and the boots are here in 
 the same predicament." 
 
 " The word caligcs, however," continued the Baron, " though I 
 admit, that, by family tradition, and even in our ancient evidents, it 
 is explained lie BOOTS, nieans, in its primitive sense, rather sandals ; 
 and Caius Caesar, the nephew and successor of Caius Tiberius, 
 received the agnomen of Caligula, a caligulis, sive caligis levioribus, 
 quibus adolescentior usus fiierat in exercitu Germanici patris sui. 
 And the caliga were also proper to the monastic bodies ; for we 
 read in an ancient Glossarium, upon the rule of St. Benedict, in the 
 Abbey of St. Amand, that caligm were tied with latchets." 
 
2/8 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " That will apply to the brogues/' said Fergus. 
 
 "It will so, my dear Glennaquoich ; — and the words are express : 
 Caliga diets su7it quia Ugajitur : nam socci non Ugantur, sed 
 tantuTii intromittuntur J that is, caliga are denominated from the 
 ligatures wherewith they are bound ; whereas socci, which may be 
 analogous to our mules, whilk the English denominate slippers; are 
 only slipped upon the feet. The words of the charter are also 
 alternative, exuere, seu detraherej that is, to undo, as in the case 
 of sandals or brogues ; and to pull off, as we say vernacularly, 
 concerning boots. Yet I would we had more light ; but I fear 
 there is little chance of finding hereabout any erudite author, de 
 re vesiiaria." 
 
 " I should doubt it very much," said the Chieftain, looking around 
 on the straggling Highlanders, who were returning loaded with 
 spoils of the slain, " though the res vestiaria itself seems to be in 
 some request at present." 
 
 This remark coming within the Baron's idea of jocularity, he 
 honoured it with a smile, but immediately resumed what to him 
 appeared very serious business. 
 
 " Bailie Macwheeble indeed holds an opinion, that this honorary 
 service is due, from its very nature, si petatur tantumj only if his 
 Royal Highness shall require of the great tenant of the crown to 
 perform that personal duty ; and indeed he pointed out the case in 
 Dirleton's Doubts and Queries, Grippit versus Spicer, anent the 
 eviction of an estate ob non solutum canonem, that is, for non-pay- 
 ment of a feu-duty of three pepper-corns a year, whilk were taxt to 
 be worth seven-eighths of a penny Scots, in whilk the defender was 
 assoilzied. But I deem it safest, wi' your good favour, to place 
 myself in the way of rendering the Prince this service, and to proffer 
 performance thereof ; and I shall cause the Bailie to attend with a 
 schedule of a protest, whilk he has here prepared (taking out a 
 paper), intimating, that if it shall be his Royal Highness's pleasure 
 to aceept of other assistance at pulling off his caliga (whether the 
 same shall be rendered boots or brogues), save that of the said 
 Baron of Bradwardine, who is in presence ready and willing to 
 perform the same, it shall in no wise impinge upon or prejudice the 
 right of the said Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine to perform the said 
 service in future ; nor shall it give any esquire, valet of the 
 chamber, squire, or page, whose assistance it may please his Royal 
 Highness to employ, any right, title, or ground, for evicting from 
 the said Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine the estate and barony of 
 Bradwardine, and others held as aforesaid, by the due and faithful 
 performance thereof." 
 
 Fergus higlily applauded this arrangement ; and the Baron took 
 
WAVERLEY. 279 
 
 a friendly leave of them, -with a smile of contented importance upon 
 his visage. 
 
 " Long live our dear friend, the Baron," exclaimed the Chief, as 
 soon as he was out of hearing, " for the most absurd original that 
 exists north of the Tweed ! I wish to heaven I had recommended 
 him to attend the circle this evening with a boot-ketch under his 
 arm. I think he might have adopted the suggestion, if it had been 
 made with suitable gravity." 
 
 " And how can you take pleasure in making a man of his worth 
 so ridiculous ? " 
 
 " Begging pardon, my dear Waverley, you are as ridiculous as 
 he. Wh)', do you not see that the man's whole mind is wrapped up 
 in this ceremony ? He has heard and thought of it since infancy, 
 as the most august privilege and ceremony in the world ; and I 
 doubt not but the expected pleasure of performing it was a princi- 
 pal motive with him for taking up arms. -Depend upon it, had I 
 endeavoured to divert him from exposing himself, he would have 
 treated me as an ignorant, conceited coxcomb, or perhaps might 
 have taken a fancy to cut my throat ; a pleasure which he once 
 proposed to himself upon some point of etiquette, not half so 
 important, in his eyes, as this matter of boots or brogues, or what- 
 ever the caligce shall finally be pronounced by .the learned. But I 
 must go to head-quarters to prepare the Prince for this extraordi- 
 nary scene. My information will be well taken, for it will give him 
 a hearty laugh at present, and put him on his guard against laugh- 
 ing, when it might be very mal-a-propos. So, au revoir, my dear 
 Waverley." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 THE ENGLISH PRISONER. 
 
 The first occupation of Waverley, after he departed from the 
 Chieftain, was to go in quest of the officer whose life he had saved. 
 He was guarded, along with his companions in misfortune, who 
 were very numerous, in a gentleman's house near the field of 
 battle. 
 
 On entering the room where they stood crowded together, 
 Waverley easily recognised the object of his visit, not only by the 
 peculiar dignity of his appearance, but by the appendage of Dugald 
 Mahony, with his battle-axe, who had stuck to him from the 
 moment of his captivity, as if he had been skewered to his side. 
 This close attendance was, perhaps, for the purpose of securing 
 his promised reward from Edward^ but it also operated to save the 
 
2So WAVERLEY. 
 
 English gentleman from being plundered in the scene of general 
 confusion ; for Dugald sagaciously argued, that the amount of the 
 salvage which he might be allowed, would be regulated by the 
 state of the prisoner, when he should deliver him over to Waverley. 
 He hastened to assure Waverley, therefore, with more words than 
 he usually employed, that he had " keepit ta sidier roy haill, and 
 that he wasna a plack the waur since the fery moment when his 
 honour forbad her to gie him a bit clamhewit wi' her Lochaber- 
 axe." 
 
 Waverley assured Dugald of a liberal recompense, and, ap- 
 proaching the English officer, expressed his anxiety to do any- 
 thing which might contribute to his convenience under his present 
 unpleasant circumstances. 
 
 " I am not so inexperienced a soldier, sir," answered the English= 
 man, " as to complain of the fortune of war. I am only grieved to 
 see those scenes acted in our own island, which I have often 
 witnessed elsewhere with comparative indifference." 
 
 " Another such day as this," said Waverley, " and I trust the 
 cause of your regrets wiU be removed, and all will again return to 
 peace and order." 
 
 The officer smiled and shook his head. " I must not forget my 
 situation so far as to attempt a formal confutation of that opinion ; 
 but, notwithstanding your success, and the valour which achieved 
 it, you have undertaken a task to which your strength appears 
 wholly inadequate." 
 
 At this moment Fergus pushed into the press. 
 
 " Come, Edward, come along ; the Prince has gone to Pinkie- 
 house for the night ; and we must follow, or lose the whole cere- 
 mony of the caliga. Your friend, the Baron, has been guilty of a 
 great piece of cruelty ; he has insisted upon dragging Bailie Mac- 
 ■wheeble out to the field of battle. Now you must know the Bailie's 
 greatest horror is an armed Highlander, or a loaded gun ; and 
 there he stands, listening to the Baron's instructions concerning 
 the protest ; ducking his head like a sea-gull at the report of every 
 gun and pistol that our idle boys are firing upon the fields ; and 
 undergoing by way of penance, at every symptom of flinching, a 
 severe rebuke from his patron, who would not admit the discharge 
 of a whole battery of cannon, within point-blank distance, as an 
 apology for neglecting a discourse, in which the honour of his 
 family is interested." 
 
 "But how has Mr. Bradwardine got him to venture so far?" 
 said Edward. 
 
 " Why, he had come as far as Musselburgh, I fancy, in hopes of 
 making some of our wills ; and the peremptory commands of the 
 
•WAVERLEY. 281 
 
 Baron dragged him forward to Preston after the battle was over. 
 He complains of one or two of our ragamuffins having put him in 
 peril of his life, by presenting their pieces at him ; but as they 
 limited his ransom to an English penny, I don't think we need 
 trouble the provost-marshal upon that subject. — So, come along, 
 Waverley." 
 
 " Waverley !" said the English officer, with great emotion ; " the 
 nephew of Sir Everard Waverley, of shire ?" 
 
 " The same, sir," replied our hero, somewhat surprised at the 
 tone in which he was addressed. 
 
 " I am at once happy and grieved," said the prisoner, " to have 
 met with you." 
 
 " I am ignorant, sir," answered Waverley, " how I have deserved 
 so much interest." 
 
 " Did your uncle never mention a friend called Talbot ?" 
 
 " I have heard him talk with great regard of such a person," re- 
 plied Edward ; " a colonel, I believe, in the army, and the husband 
 of Lady Emily Blandeville ; but I thought Colonel Talbot had been 
 abroad." 
 
 " I am just returned," answered the officer ; " and being in Scot- 
 land, thought it my duty to act where my services promised to be 
 useful. Yes, Mr. Waverley, I am that Colonel Talbot, the husband 
 of the lady you have named ; and I am proud to acknowledge that 
 I owe alike my professional rank and my domestic happiness to 
 your generous and noble-minded relative. Good God ! that I 
 should find his nephew in such a dress, and engaged in such a 
 cause !" 
 
 " Sir," said Fergus, haughtily, " the dress and cause are those of 
 men of birth and honour." 
 
 " My situation forbids me to dispute your assertion," said Colonel 
 Talbot ; " otherwise it were no difficult matter to show that neither 
 courage nor pride of lineage can gild a bad cause. But, with Mr. 
 Waverle/s permission, and yours, sir, if yours also must be asked, 
 I would willingly speak a few words with him on affairs connected 
 with his own family." 
 
 " Mr. Waverley, sir, regulates his own motions. — You will follow 
 me, I suppose, to Pinkie," said Fergus, turning to Edward, " Avhen 
 you have finished your discourse with this new acquaintance ?" 
 So saying, the Chief of Glennaquoich adjusted his plaid with rather 
 more than his usual air of haughty assumption, and left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 The interest of Waverley readily procured for Colonel Talbot 
 the freedom of adjourning to a large garden belonging to his place 
 of confinement. They walked a few paces in silence, Colonel 
 
282 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Talbot apparently studying how to open what he had to say ; at 
 length he addressed Edward. 
 
 " Mr. Waverley, you have this day saved my life ; and yet I 
 would to God that I had lost it, ere I had found you wearing the 
 uniform and cockade of these men." 
 
 " I forgive your reproach, Colonel Talbot ; it is well meant, ar'l 
 your education and prejudices render it natural. But there is no- 
 thing extraordinary in. finding a man, whose honour .has been 
 publicly and unjustly assailed, in the situation which promised 
 most fair to afford him satisfaction on his calumniators." 
 
 " I should rather say, in the situation most likely to confirm the 
 reports which they have circulated," said Colonel Talbot, " by fol- 
 lowing the very line of conduct ascribed to you. Are you aware, 
 Mr. Waverley, of the infinite distress, and even danger,' which your 
 present conduct has occasioned to your nearest relatives ?" 
 
 "Danger!" 
 
 " Yes, sir, danger. When I left England, your uncle and father 
 had been obliged to find bail to answer a charge of treason, to 
 which they were only admitted by the exertion of the most power- 
 ful interest. I came down to Scotland, with the sole purpose of 
 rescuing you from the gulf into which you have precipitated your- 
 self ; nor can I estimate the consequences to your family, of your 
 having openly joined the rebellion, since the very suspicion of 
 your intention was so perilous to them. Most deeply do I regret 
 that I did not meet you before this last and fatal error." 
 
 " I am really ignorant," said Waverley, in a tone of reserve, 
 " why Colonel Talbot should have taken so much trouble on my 
 account." 
 
 " Mr. Waverley," answered Talbot, " I am dull at apprehending 
 irony; and therefore I shall answer your words according to their 
 plain meaning. I am indebted to your uncle for benefits greater 
 than those which a son owes to a father. I acknowledge to him 
 the duty of a son ; and as I know there is no manner in which I 
 can requite his kindness so well as by serving you, I will serve you, 
 if possible, whether you will .permit me or no. The personal obli- 
 gation which you have this day laid me under (although in common 
 estimation as great as one human being can bestow on another), 
 adds nothing to my zeal on your behalf ; nor can that zeal be , 
 abated by any coolness with which you may please to receive it." 
 
 " Your intentions may be kind, sir," said Waverley, drily ; " but 
 your language is harsh, or at least peremptory." 
 
 " On my return to England," continued Colonel Talbot, " after 
 long absence, I found your uncle, Sir Everard Waverley, in the 
 custody of a king's messenger, in consequence of the suspicion 
 
WAVERLEY. 283 
 
 brought upon him by your conduct. He is my oldest friend— how 
 often shall I repeat it— my best benefactor ! he sacrificed his own 
 views of happiness to mine — he never uttered a word, he never 
 harboured a thought, that benevolence itself might not have 
 thought or spoken. I found this man in confinement, rendered 
 harsher to him by his habits of life, his natural dignity of feeling, 
 and— forgive me, Mr. Waverley,— by the cause through which this 
 calamity had come upon him. I cannot disguise from you my 
 feelings upon this occasion ; they were most painfully unfavourable 
 to you. Having, by my family interest, which you probably know 
 is not inconsiderable, succeeded in obtaining Sir Everard's release, 
 I set out for Scotland. I saw Colonel Gardiner, a man whose fate 
 alone is sufficient to render this insurrection for ever execrable. 
 In the course of conversation with him, I found, that, from late 
 circumstances, from a re-examination of the persons engaged in 
 the mutiny, and from his original good opinion of your character, 
 he was much softened towards you ; and I doubted not, that if I 
 could be so fortunate as to discover you, all might yet be well. 
 But this unnatural rebellion has ruined all. I have, for the first 
 time, in a long and active military life, seen Britons disgrace them- 
 selves by a panic flight, and that before a foe without either arms 
 or discipline : And now I find the heir of my dearest fiiend — the 
 son, I may say, of his affections — sharing a triumph, for which he 
 ought the first to have blushed. Why should I lament Gardiner ? 
 his lot was happy, compared to mine ! " 
 
 There was so much dignity in Colonel Talbot's manner, such a 
 mixture of military pride and manly sorrow, and the news of Sir 
 Everard's imprisonment was told in so deep a tone of feeling, that 
 Edward stood mortified, abashed, and distressed, in -presence of 
 the prisoner, who owed to him his life not many hours before. 
 He was not sorry when Fergus interrupted their conference a 
 second time. 
 
 " His Royal Highness commands Mr. Waverle/s attendance." 
 Colonel Talbot threw upon Edward a reproachful glance, which 
 did not escape the quick eye of the Highland Chief. " His im- 
 mediate attendance," he repeated, with considerable emphasis. 
 Waverley turned again towards the Colonel. 
 
 " We shall meet again," he said ; " in the meanwhile, every pos- 
 sible accommodation " 
 
 " I desire none," said the Colonel; "let me fare like the meanest 
 of those brave men, who, on this day of calamity, have preferred 
 wounds and captivity to flight; I would almost exchange places 
 with one of those who have fallen, to laiow that my words have 
 made a suitable impression on your mind." 
 
284 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " Let Colonel Talbot be carefully secured," said Fergus to the 
 Highland officer, who commanded the guard over the prisoners ; 
 " it is the Prince's particular command ; he is a prisoner of the 
 utmost importance." 
 
 " But let him want no accommodation suitable to his rank," 
 said Waverley. 
 
 " Consistent always with secure custody," reiterated Fergus. 
 The officer signified his acquiescence in both commands, and 
 Edward followed Fergus to the garden-gate, where Callum Beg, 
 with three saddle-horses, awaited them. Turning his head, he 
 saw Colonel Talbot reconducted to his place of confinement by a 
 file of Highlanders ; he lingered on the threshold of the door, and 
 made a signal with his hand towards Waverley, as if enforcing the 
 language he had held towards him. 
 
 " Horses," said Fergus, as he mounted, " are now as plenty as 
 blackberries ; every man may have them for the catching. Come, 
 let Callum adjust your stirrups, and let us to Pinkie-house* as fast 
 as the ci-devant dragoon-horses choose to carry us." 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 RATHER UNIMPORTANT. 
 
 " I WAS turned back," said Fergus to Edward, as they galloped 
 from Preston to Pinkie-house, " by a message from the Prince. 
 But, I suppose, you know the value of this most noble Colonel 
 Talbot as a prisoner. He is held one of the best officers among 
 the red-coats : a special friend and favourite of the Elector himself, 
 and of that dreadful hero, the Duke of Cumberland, who has been 
 summoned from his triumphs at Fontenoy, to come over and 
 devour us poor Highlanders alive. Has he been telling you how 
 the bells of St. James's ring? Not 'turn again, Whittington,' like 
 those of Bow, in the days of yore?" 
 
 " Fergus ! " said Waverley, with a reproachful look. 
 
 " Nay, I cannot tell what to make of you," answered the Chief 
 of Mac- Ivor, " you are blown about with every wind of doctrine. 
 Here have we gained a victory, unparalleled in history — and your 
 behaviour is praised by every living mortal to the skies — and the 
 Prince is eager to thank you in person — and all our beauties of the 
 White Rose are pulling caps for you — and you, ^^preux chevalier 
 of the day, are stooping on your horse's neck like a butter-woman 
 riding to market, and looking as black as a funeral ! " 
 
 " I am soriy for poor Colonel Gardiner's death : he was once 
 very kind to me." 
 
■WAVERLEY. 285 
 
 " Wliy, then, be sorry for five minutes, and then be glad again ; 
 his chance to-day may be ours to-morrow ; and what does it 
 signify ? The next best thing to victory is honourable death ; but 
 it is a pis-aller, and one would rather a foe had it than one's 
 self." 
 
 " But Colonel Talbot has informed me that my father and uncle 
 are both imprisoned by government on my account." 
 
 "We'll put in bail, my boy; old Andrew Ferrara* shall lodge 
 his security; and I should like to see him put to justify it in 
 Westminster-Hall!" 
 
 " Nay, they are already at liberty, upon bail of a more civic 
 disposition." 
 
 " Then why is thy noble spirit cast down, Edward? Dost think 
 that the Elector's Ministers are such doves as to set their enemies 
 at liberty at this critical moment, if they could or durst confine 
 and punish them ? Assure thyself that either they have no charge 
 against your relations on which they can continue their imprison- 
 ment, or else they are afraid of our friends, the jolly cavaliers of 
 old England. At any rate, you need not be apprehensive upon 
 their account ; and we will find some means of conveying to them 
 assurances of your safety." 
 
 Edward was silenced, but not satisfied, with these reasons. He 
 had now been more than once shocked at the small degree of 
 sympathy which Fergus exhibited for the feelings even of those 
 whom he loved, if they did not correspond with his own mood at 
 the time, and more especially if they thwarted him while earnest 
 in a favourite pursuit. Fergus sometimes indeed observed that he 
 had offended Waverley, but always intent upon some favourite 
 plan or project of his own, he was never sufficiently aware of the 
 extent or duration of his displeasure so that the reiteration of these 
 petty offences somewhat cooled the volunteer's extreme attachment 
 to his officer. 
 
 The Chevalier received Waverley with his usual favour, and paid 
 him many compliments on his distinguished bravery. He then 
 took him apart, made many inquiries concerning Colonel Talbot, and 
 when he had received all the information which Edward was able 
 to give concerning him and his connexions, he proceeded, — " I 
 cannot but think, Mr. Waverley, that since this gentleman is so 
 particularly connected with our worthy and excellent friend. Sir 
 Everard Waverley, and since his lady is of the house of Blande- 
 ville, whose devotion to the true and loyal principles of the Church 
 of England is so generally known, the Colonel's own private senti- 
 ments cannot be unfavourable to us, whatever mask he may have 
 assumed to accommodate himself to the times." 
 
286 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " If I am to judge from the language he this day held to mc, I am 
 under the necessity of differing widely from your Royal Highness-" 
 
 " Well, it is worth making a trial at least. I therefore intrust 
 you with the charge of Colonel Talbot, with power to act concern- 
 ing him as you think most advisable; and I hope you will find 
 means of ascertaining what are his real dispositions towards our 
 Royal Father's restoration." 
 
 " I am convinced," said Waverley, bowing, " that if Colonel 
 Talbot chooses to grant his parole, it may be securely depended 
 upon ; but if he refuses it, I trust your Royal Highness will devolve 
 on some other person than the nephew of his friend, the task of 
 laying him under the necessary restraint." 
 
 " I will trust him with no person but you," said the Prince, 
 smiling, but peremptorily repeating his mandate : " it is of import- 
 ance to my service that there should appear to be a good intelli- 
 gence between you, even if you are unable to gain his confidence in 
 earnest. You wiU therefore receive him into your quarters, and in 
 case he declines giving his parole, you must apply for a proper 
 guard. I beg you will go about this directly. We return to Edin- 
 burgh to-morrow." 
 
 Being thus remanded to the vicinity of Preston, Waverley lost 
 the Baron of Bradwardine's solemn act of homage. So little, how- 
 ever, was he at this time in love with vanity, that he had quite 
 forgotten the ceremony in which Fergus had laboured to engage 
 his curiosity. But next day a formal Gazette was circulated, con- 
 taining a detailed account of the battle of Gladsmuir, as the High- 
 landers chose to denominate their victory. It concluded with an 
 account of the Court afterwards held by the Chevalier at Pinkie- 
 house, which contained this among other high-flown descriptive 
 paragraphs : 
 
 " Since that fatal treaty which annihilates Scotland as an inde- 
 pendent nation, it has not been our happiness to see her princes 
 receive, and her nobles discharge, those acts of feudal homage, 
 which, founded upon the' splendid actions of Scottish valour, recall 
 the memory of her early history, with the manly and chivalrous 
 simplicity of the ties which united to the Crown the homage of the 
 warriors by whom it was repeatedly upheld and defended. But on 
 the evening of the 20th, our memories were refreshed with one of 
 those ceremonies which belong to the ancient days of Scotland's 
 glory. After the circle was formed, Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, 
 uf that ilk, colonel in the service, &c. &c. &c., came before the 
 Prince, attended by Mr. D. Macwheeble, the Bailie of his ancient 
 barony of Bradwardine (who, we understand, has been lately named 
 a commissary), and, under form of instrument, claimed permission 
 
WAVERLEY. 287 
 
 to perform, to the person of his Royal Highness, as representing liis 
 father, the 3ervice used and wont, for wliich, under a charter o' 
 Robert Bruce (of which the original was produced and inspected by 
 the Masters of his Royal Highness's Chancery, for the time being), 
 the claimant held the barony of Bradwardine, and lands of TuUy- 
 Veolan. His claim being admitted and registered, his Royal High- 
 ness having placed his foot upon a cushion, the Baron of Brad- 
 wardine, kneeling upon his right knee, proceeded to undo the 
 latchet of the brogue, or low-heeled Highland shoe, which our 
 gallant young hero wears in compliment to his brave followers. 
 When this was performed, his Royal Highness declared the cere- 
 mony completed ; and embracing the gallant veteran, protested that 
 nothing but compliance with an ordinance of Robert Bruce could 
 have induced him to receive even the symbolical performance of a 
 menial office from hands which had fought so bravely to put the 
 crown upon the head of his father. The Baron of Bradwardine then 
 took instruments in the hands of Mr. Commissary Macwheeble, 
 bearing, that all points and circumstances of the act of homage had 
 been riie et solenniter acta et -peractaj and a corresponding entiy 
 was made in the protocol of the Lord High Chamberlain, and in 
 the record of Chancery. We understand that it is in contemplation 
 of his Royal Highness, when his Majesty's pleasure can be known, 
 to raise Colonel Bradwardine to the peerage, by the title of Viscount 
 Bradwardine, of Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, and that, in the 
 meanwhile, his Royal Highness, in his father's name and authority, 
 has been pleased to grant him an honourable augmentation to his 
 paternal coat of arms, being a budget or boot-jack, disposed saltier- 
 wise with a naked broadsword, to be borne in the dexter cantle of 
 the shield ; and, as an additional motto, on a scroll, beneath, the 
 Tvords, ' Draw and draw off.'" 
 
 " Were it not for the recollection of Fergus's raillery,'' thought 
 Waverley to himself, when he had perused this long and grave docu- 
 ment, "how very tolerably would all this sound, and how little 
 should I have thought of connecting it with any ludicrous idea. 
 Well, after all, everything has its fair, as well as its seamy side ; 
 and truly I do not see why the Baron's boot-jack may not stand as 
 fair in heraldry as the water-buckets, waggons, cart-wheels, plough- 
 socks, shuttles, candlesticks, and other ordinaries, conveying ideas 
 of anything save chivalry, which appear in the arms of some of our 
 most ancient gentry."— This, however, is an episode in respect to 
 the principal story. 
 
 When Waverley returned to Preston, and rejoined Colonel 
 Talbot, he found him recovered from the strong and obvious emo- 
 tions with which a concurrence of unpleasing events had affected 
 
288 WAVERLEY. 
 
 him. He had regained his natural manner, which was that of an 
 English gentleman and soldier, manly, open, and generous, but not 
 unsusceptible of prejudice against those of a different country, or 
 who opposed him in political tenets. When Waverley acquainted 
 Colonel Talbot with the Chevalier's purpose to commit him to his 
 charge, " 1 did not think to have owed so much obligation to that 
 young gentleman," he said, " as is implied in this destination. I can 
 at least cheerfully join in the prayer of the honest Presbyterian 
 clergyman, that, as he has come among us seeking an earthly crown, 
 his labours may be speedily rewarded with a heavenly one.* I shall 
 willingly give my parole not to attempt an escape without your 
 knowledge, since, in fact, it was to meet you that I came to Scot- 
 land ; and I am glad it has happened even under this predicament. 
 But I suppose we shall be but a short time together. Your Che- 
 valier (that is a name we may both give to him), with his plaids 
 and blue-caps, will, I presume, be continuing his crusade south- 
 ward ? " 
 
 " Not as I hear ; I believe the arniy makes some stay in Edin- 
 burgh, to collect reinforcements." ^ 
 
 " And to besiege the Castle ? " said Talbot, smiling sarcastically. 
 "Well, unless my old commander, General Preston, turn false 
 metal, or the Castle sink into the North Loch, events which I deem 
 equally probable, I think we shall have some time to make up our 
 acquaintance. I have a guess that this gallant Chevalier has a 
 design that 1 should be your proselyte ; and, as I wish you to be 
 mine, there cannot be a more fair proposal than to afford us fair 
 conference together. But, as I spoke to-day under the influence of 
 feelings I rarely give way to, I hope you will excuse my entering 
 again upon controversy till we are somewhat better acquainted." 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 INTRIGUES OF LOVE AND POLITICS. 
 
 It is not necessary to record in these pages the triumphant 
 entrance of the Chevalier into Edinburgh after the decisive affair of 
 Preston. One circumstance, however, may be noticed, because it 
 illustrates the high spirit of Flora Mac- Ivor. The Highlanders, by 
 whom the Prince was surrounded, in the licence and extravagance, 
 of this joyful moment, fired their pieces repeatedly, and one of these 
 having been accidentally loaded with ball, the bullet grazed the: 
 young lady's temple as she waved her handkerchief from a balcony.* 
 Fergus, who beheld the accident, was at her side in an instant ; and^ 
 on seeing that the wound was trifling, he drew his broadsword, with 
 
WAVERLEY. 289 
 
 the purpose of rushing down upon the man by whose carelessness 
 she had incurred so much danger, when, holding him by the plaid, 
 " Do not harm the poor fellow," she cried ; " for Heaven's sake, do 
 not harm him ! but thank God with me that the accident happened 
 to Flora Mac-Ivor ; for had it befallen a Whig, they would have 
 pretended that the shot was fired on purpose." 
 
 Waverley escaped the alarm which this accident would have 
 occasioned to him, as he was unavoidably delayed by the necessity 
 of accompanying Colonel Talbot to Edinburgh. 
 
 They performed the journey together on horseback, and for some 
 time, as if to sound each other's feelings and sentiments, they con- 
 versed upon general and ordinary topics. 
 
 When Waverley again entered upon the subject which he had 
 most at heart, the situation, namely, of his father and his uncle. 
 Colonel Talbot seemed now rather desirous to alleviate than to 
 aggravate his anxiety. This appeared particularly to be the case 
 when he heard Waverle/s history, which he did not scruple to con- 
 fide to him. 
 
 "And so," said the Colonel, " there has been no malice prepense, 
 as lawyers, I think, term it, in this rash step of yours ; and you have 
 been trepanned into the service of this Italian knight-errant by a 
 few civil speeches from him and one or two of his Highland re- 
 cruiting sergeants 1 It is sadly foolish, to be sure, but not nearly 
 so bad as I was led to expect. However, you cannot desert, even 
 from the Pretender, at the present moment, — that seems impossible. 
 But I have little doubt that, in the dissensions incident to this 
 heterogeneous mass of wild and desperate men, some opportunity 
 may arise, by availing yourself of which, you may extricate yourself 
 honourably from your rash engagement before the bubble burst. 
 If this can be managed, I would have you go to a place of safety 
 in Flanders, which I shall point out. And I think I can secure 
 your pardon from Government after a few months' residence 
 abroad." 
 
 " I cannot permit you, -Colonel Talbot," answered Waverley, " to 
 speak of any plan which turns on my deserting an enterprise in 
 which I may have engaged hastily, but certainly voluntarily, and 
 with the purpose of abiding the issue." 
 
 " Well," said Colonel Talbot, smiling, "leave me my thoughts and 
 hopes at least at liberty, if not my speech. But have you never 
 examined your mysterious packet ? " 
 
 "It is in my baggage," replied Edward; "we shaU find it in 
 Edinburgh." 
 
 In Edinburgh they soon arrived. Waverley's quarters had been 
 assigned to him, by the Prince's express orders, in a handsome 
 
 T 
 
290 WAVERLEY. 
 
 lodging, where there was accommodation for Colonel Talbot. His 
 first business was to examine his portmanteau, and, after a very- 
 short search, out tumbled the expected packet. Waverley opened 
 it eagerly. Under a blank cover, simply addressed toE. Waverley, 
 Esq., he found a number of open letters. The uppermost were two 
 from Colonel Gardiner, addressed to himself The earliest in date 
 was a kind and gentle remonstrance for neglect of the writer's advice 
 respecting ti>e disposal of his time during his leave of absence, the 
 renewal of which, he reminded Captain Waverley, would speedily 
 expire. "Indeed," the letter proceeded, "had it been otherv;ise, 
 the news from abroad, and my instructions from the War-office, 
 must have compelled me to recall it, as there is great danger, since 
 the disaster in Flanders, both of foreign invasion and insurrection 
 among the disaffected at home. I therefore entreat you will repair, 
 as soon as possible, to the head-quarters of the regiment ; and I am 
 concerned to add, that this is still the more necessary, as there is 
 some discontent in your troop, and I postpone inquiry into parti- 
 culars until I can have the advantage of your assistance." 
 
 The second letter, dated eight days later, was in such a style as 
 might have been expected from the Colonel's receiving no answer 
 to the first. It reminded Waverley of his duty, as a man of honour, 
 an officer, and a Briton ; took notice of the increasing dissatisfaction 
 of his men, and that some of them had been heard to hint that their 
 Captain encouraged and approved of their mutinous behaviour ; 
 and, finally, the writer expressed the utmost regret and surprise 
 that he had not obeyed his commands by repairing to head-quar- 
 ters, reminded him that his leave of absence had been recalled, and 
 conjured him, in a. style in which paternal remonstrance was 
 mingled with military authority, to redeem his error by immediately 
 joining his regiment. "That I may be certain," concluded the 
 letter, " that this actually reaches you, I dispatch it by Corporal 
 Tims, of your troop, with orders to deliver it into your own hand." 
 
 Upon reading these letters, Waverley, with great bitterness of 
 feeling, was compelled to make the amende /lonorai/e to the memory 
 of the brave and excellent writer, ; for surely, as Colonel Gardiner 
 must have had evtry reason to conclude they had come safely to 
 hand, less could not follow, on their being neglected, than that third 
 and final summons, which Waverley actually received at Glenna- 
 quoich, though too late to obey it And his being superseded, in 
 consequence of his apparent neglect of this last command, was so 
 far from being a harsh or severe proceeding, that it was plainly 
 inevitable. The next letter he unfolded was from the Major of the 
 regiment, acquainting him that a report, to the disadvantage of his 
 reputation, was public in the country, stating, that one Mr. Falconer 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 29: 
 
 of Ballihopple, or some such name, had proposed, in his presence, 
 a treasonable toast, which he permitted to pass in silence, although 
 it was so gross an affront to the royal family, that a gentleman in 
 company, not remarkable for his zeal for Government, had nevei-- 
 theless taken the matter up, and that, supposing the account true, 
 Captain Waverley had thus suffered another, comparatively uncon- 
 cerned, to resent an affront directed against him personally as an 
 officer, and to go out with the person by whom it was offered. The 
 Major concluded, that no one of Captain Waverle/s brother officers 
 could believe this scandalous story, but that it was necessarily their 
 joint opinion that his own honour, equally with that of the regiment, 
 depended upon its being instantly contradicted by his authority, 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 
 " What do you think of all this ? " said Colonel Talbot, to whom 
 Waverley handed the letters after he had perused them. 
 
 " Think ! it renders thought impossible. It is enough to drive 
 me mad." 
 
 "Be calm, my young friend; let us see what are these dirty 
 scrawls that follow." 
 
 The first was addressed, " For pilaster W. Ruffin These."—" Dear 
 sur, sum of our yong gulpins will not bite, thof I tuold them you 
 shoed me the squoire's own seel. But Tims will deliver you the 
 lettrs as desired, and tell ould Addem he gave them to squoir's 
 hond, as to be sure yours is the same, and shall be ready for signal, 
 and hoy for Hoy Church and Sachefrel, as fadur sings at harvcst- 
 Avhome. Yours, deer Sur, H. H. 
 
 " Poscriff. Do'e tell squoire we longs to heer from him, and has 
 dootings about his not writing himself, and Lifetenant Bottler is 
 smoky." 
 
 " This Ruffin, I suppose, then, is your Donald of the Cavern, 
 who has intercepted your letters, and carried on a correspondence 
 with the poor devil Houghton, as if under your authority ? " 
 
 " It seems too true. But who can Addem be ? " 
 
 " Possibly Adam, for poor Gardiner, a sort of pun on his name." 
 
 The other letters were to the same purpose, and they soon re- 
 ceived yet more complete light upon Donald Bean's machina- 
 tions. , , J ■ , 
 
 John Hodges, one of Waverleys servants, who had remamed 
 with the regiment, and had been taken at Preston, now made his 
 .ppearance. He had sought out his master, with the purpose of 
 .igain entering his service. From this fellow they learned, that 
 =ome time after Waverley had gone from the head-quarters of the 
 re-iment, a pedlar, called Ruthven, Ruffin, or Rivane, known 
 
 ° T 2 
 
292 WAVERLEY. 
 
 among the soldiers by the name of Wily Will, had made frequent 
 visits to the town of Dundee. He appeared to possess plenty of 
 money, sold his commodities very cheap, seemed always willing to- 
 treat his friends at the ale-house, and easily ingratiated himself with 
 many of Waverley's troop, particularly Sergeant Houghton, and 
 one Tims, also a non-commissioned officer. To these he unfolded, 
 in Waverley's name, a plan for leaving the regiment and joining 
 him in the Highlands, where report said the clans had already 
 taken arms in great numbers. The men, who had been educated 
 as Jacobites, so far as they had any opinion at all, and who knew 
 their landlord. Sir Everard, had always been supposed to hold such 
 tenets, easily fell into the snai-e. That Waverley was at a distance 
 in the Highlands, was received as a sufficient excuse for trans- 
 mitting his letters through the medium of the pedlar ; and the 
 sight of his well-known seal seemed to authenticate the negotia- 
 tions in his name, where writing might have been dangerous. The 
 cabal, however, began to take air, from the premature mutinous 
 language of those concerned. Wily Will justified his appellative ; 
 for after suspicion arose, he was seen no more. When the Gazette 
 appeared, in which Waverley was superseded, great part of his 
 troop broke out into actual mutiny, but were surrounded and dis- 
 anned by the rest of the regiment. In consequence of the sentence 
 of a court-martial, Houghton and Tims were condemned to be shot, 
 but afterwards permitted to cast lots for life. Houghton, the sur- 
 vivor, showed much penitence, being convinced, from the rebukes 
 and explanations of. Colonel Gardiner, that he had really engaged 
 in a very heinous crime. It is remarkable, that as soon as the poor 
 fellow was satisfied of this, he became also convinced that the 
 instigator had acted without authority from Edward, saying, " If it 
 was dishonourable and against Old England, the squire could know 
 nought about it ; he never did, or thought to do, any thing dis- 
 . honourable, no more didn't Sir Everard, nor none of them afore 
 him ;' and in that belief he would live and die that Ruffin had done 
 it all of his own head." 
 
 The strength of conviction with which he expressed himself upon 
 this subject, as well as his assurances that the letters intended for 
 Waverley, had been delivered to Ruthven, made that revolution in 
 Colonel Gardiner's opinion which he expressed to Talbot. 
 
 The reader has long since understood that Donald Bean Lean 
 played the part of tempter on this occasion. His motives were 
 shortly these. Of an active and intriguing spirit, he had been long 
 employed as a subaltern agent and spy by those in the confidence 
 of the Chevalier, to an extent beyond what was suspected even by 
 Fergus Mac-Ivor, whom, though obliged to.him for protection, he 
 
WAVERLEY. 293 
 
 regarded with fear and dislike. To success in this political depart- 
 ment, he naturally looked for raising himself by some bold stroke 
 above his present hazardous and precarious trade of rapine. He 
 was particularly employed in learning the strength of the regiments 
 in Scotland, the character of the officers, &c., and had long had 
 liis eye upon Waverley's troop, as open to temptation. Donald 
 even believed that Waverley himself was at bottom in the Stuart 
 interest, which seemed confirmed by his long visit to the Jacobite 
 Baron of Bradwardine. When, therefore, he came to his cave 
 with one of Glennaquoich's attendants, the robber, who could never 
 appreciate his real motive, which was mere curiosity, was so 
 sanguine as to hope that his own talents were to be employed in 
 some intrigue of consequence, under the auspices of this wealthy 
 young Englishman. Nor was he undeceived by Waverley's ne- 
 glecting all hints and openings afforded for explanation. His 
 conduct passed for prudent reserve, and somewhat piqued Donald 
 Bean, who, supposing himself left out of a secret where confidence 
 promised to be advantageous, determined to have his share in the 
 drama, whether a regular part were assigned him or not. For this 
 purpose, during Waverley's sleep, he possessed himself of his seal, 
 as a token to be used to any of the troopers whom he might dis- 
 cover to be possessed of the captain's confidence. His first journey 
 to Dundee, the town where the regiment was quartered, undeceived 
 him in his original supposition, but opened to him a new field of 
 action. He knew there would be no service so well rewarded by 
 tlie friends of the Chevalier, as seducing a part of the regular 
 army to his standard. For this purpose he opened the machina- 
 tions with which the reader is already acquainted, and which form 
 a clew to all the intricacies and obscurities of the narrative previou s 
 to Waverley's leaving Glennaquoich. 
 
 By Colonel Talbot's advice, Waverley declined detaining in his 
 service the lad whose evidence had thrown additional light on these 
 intrigues. He represented to him it would be doing the man an 
 injury to engage him in a desperate undertaking, and that, what- 
 ever should happen, his evidence would go some length, at least, 
 in explaining the circumstances under which Waverley himself 
 had embarked in it. Waverley therefore wrote a short state of 
 what had happened, to his uncle and his father, cautioning them, 
 however, in the present circumstances, not to attempt to answer 
 his letter. Talbot then gave the young man a letter to the com- 
 mander of one of the English vessels of war cruizing in the frith, 
 requesting him to put the bearer ashore at Berwick, with a pass to 
 proceed to — r— shire. He was then furnished with money to make 
 an expeditious journey, and directed to get on board the ship by 
 
294 WAVERLEY. 
 
 means of bribing a fishing-boat, which, as they afterwards learned, 
 he easily effected. 
 
 Tired of the attendance of Galium Beg, who, he thought, had 
 some disposition to act as a spy on his motions, Waverley hired 
 as a servant a simple Edinburgh swain, who had mounted the 
 white cockade in a fit of spleen and jealousy, because Jenny Jop 
 had danced a whole night with Corporal Bullock of the Fusileers. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 INTRIGUES OF SOCIETY AND LOVE. 
 
 Colonel Talbot became more kindly in his demeanour to- 
 wards Waverley after the confidence he had reposed in him ; and 
 ;is they were necessarily much together, the character of the Colonel 
 rose in Waverley's estimation. There seemed at first something 
 harsh in his strong expressions of dislike and censure, although no 
 one was in the general case more open to conviction. The habit 
 of authority had also given his manners some peremptory hardness, 
 notwithstanding the polish which they had received from his inti- 
 mate acquaintance with the higher circles. As a specimen of the 
 military character, he differed from all whom Waverley had as yet 
 seen. The soldiership of the Baron of Bradwardine was marked 
 by pedantry ; that of Major Melville by a sort of martinet attention 
 to the minutiae and technicalities of discipline, rather suitable to 
 one who was to manoeuvre a battalion, than to him who was to 
 command an army ; the military spirit of Fergus was so much 
 warped and blended with his plans and political views, that it was 
 less that of a soldier than of a petty sovereign. But Colonel Talbot 
 was in every point the English soldier. His whole soul was devoted 
 to the service of his king and country, without feeling any pride 
 in knowing the theory of his art with the Baron, or its practical 
 minutiae with the Major, or in applying his science to his own 
 particular plans of ambition, like the Chieftain of Glennaquoich. 
 Added to this, he was a man of extended knowledge and cultivated 
 taste, although strongly tinged, as we have already observed, with 
 those prejudices which are peculiarly English. 
 
 The character of Colonel Talbot dawned upon Edward by 
 degrees ; for the delay of the Highlanders in the fruitless siege of 
 Edinburgh Castle occupied several weeks, during which Waverley 
 had little to do, excepting to seek such amusement as society 
 afforded. He would willingly have persuaded his new friend to 
 become acquainted with some of his former intimates. But the 
 Colonel, after one or two visits, shook his head, and declined 
 
WAVERLEY. 395 
 
 farther experiment. Indeed he went farther, and characterised the 
 Baron as the most intolerable formal pedant he had ever had the 
 misfortune to meet with, and the Chief of Glennaquoich as a 
 Frenchified Scotchman, possessing all the cunning and plausibility 
 of the nation where he was educated, with the proud, vindictive, 
 and turbulent humour of that of his birth. " If the devil," he said, 
 " had sought out an agent expressly for the purpose of embroiling 
 this miserable country, I do not think he could find a better than 
 such a fellow as this, whose temper seems equally active, supple, 
 and mischievous, and who is followed, and implicitly obeyed, by a 
 gang of such cut-throats as tho'se whom you are pleased to admire 
 so much." 
 
 The ladies of the party did not escape his censure. He allowed 
 that Flora Mac- Ivor was a fine woman, and Rose Bradwardine a 
 pretty girl. But he alleged that the former destroyed the effect of 
 her beauty by an affectation of the grand airs which she had pro- 
 bably seen practised in the mock court of St. Germains. As for 
 Rose Bradwardine, he said it was impossible for any mortal to 
 admire such a little uninformed thing, whose small portion of edu- 
 cation was as ill adapted to her sex or youth, as if she had appeared 
 with one of her father's old campaign-coats upon her person for 
 her sole garment. Now much of this was mere spleen and pre- 
 judice in the excellent Colonel, with whom the white cockade on 
 the breast, the white rose in the hair, and the Mac at the beginning 
 of a name, would have made a devil out of an angel ; and indeed 
 he himself jocularly allowed, that he could not have endured Venus 
 herself, if she had been announced in a drawing-room by the name 
 of Miss Mac-Jupiter. 
 
 Waverley, it may easily be believed, looked upon these young 
 ladies with very different eyes. During the period of the siege, he 
 paid them almost daily visits, although he observed with regret 
 that his suit made as little progress in the affections of the former, 
 as the arms of the Chevalier in subduing the fortress. She main- 
 tained with rigour the rule she had laid down of treating him with 
 indifference, without either affecting to avoid him, or to shun inter- 
 course with him. Every word, every look, was strictly regulated 
 to accord with her system, and neither the dejection of Waverley, 
 nor the anger which Fergus scarcely suppressed, could extend 
 Flora's attention to Edward beyond that which the most ordinary 
 politeness demanded. On the other hand. Rose Bradwardine gra- 
 dually rose in Waverley's opinion. He had several opportunities 
 of remarking, that, as her extreme timidity wore off, her manners 
 assumed a higher character ; that the agitating circumstances of 
 the stormy time seemed to call forth a certain dignity of feeling 
 
296 WAVERLEY. 
 
 and expression, which he had not formerly observed ; and that she 
 omitted ncj opportunity within her reach to extend her knowledge 
 and refine her taste. 
 
 Flora Mac-Ivor called Rose her pupil, and was attentive to assist 
 her in her studies, and to fashion both her taste and understanding. 
 It inight have been remarked by a very close observer, that in the 
 presence of Waverley she was much more desirous to exhibit her 
 friend's excellences than her own. But I must request of the 
 reader to suppose, that this kind and disinterested purpose was 
 concealed by the most cautious delicacy, studiously shunning the 
 most distant approach to affectation. So that it was as unlike the 
 usual exhibition of one pretty woman affecting to froner another, 
 as the friendship of David and Jonathan might be to the intimacy 
 of two Bond-street loungers. The fact is, that though the effect 
 was felt, the cause could hardly be observed. Each of the ladies, 
 like two excellent actresses, were perfect in their parts, and per- 
 formed them to the delight of the audience ; and such being the 
 case, it was almost impossible to discover that the elder con- 
 stantly ceded to her friend that which was most suitable to her 
 talents. 
 
 But to Waverley, Rose Bradwardine possessed an attraction 
 which few men can resist, from the marked interest which she took 
 in every thing that affected him. She was too young and too inex- 
 perienced to estimate the full force of the constant attention which 
 she paid to him. Her father was too abstractedly immersed in 
 learned and military discussions to observe her partiality, and Flora 
 Mac-Ivor did not alarm her by remonstrance, because she saw in 
 this line of conduct the most probable chance of her friend securing 
 at length a return of affection. 
 
 The truth is, that in her first conversation after their meeting. 
 Rose had discovered the state of her mind to that acute and intelli- 
 gent friend, although she was not herself aware of it. From that 
 time. Flora was not only determined upon the final rejection 
 of Waverley's addresses, but became anxious that they should, if 
 possible, be transferred to her friend. Nor was she less interested 
 in this plan, though her brother had from time to time talked, as 
 between jest and earnest, of paying his suit to Miss Bradwardine. 
 She knew that Fergus had the true continental latitude of opinion 
 respecting the institution of marriage, and would not have given 
 his hand to an angel, unless for the purpose of strengthening his 
 alliances, and increasing his influence and wealth. The Baron's 
 whim, of transferring his estate to the distant heir-male instead of 
 his own daughter, was therefore likely to be an insurmountable 
 obstacle to his entertaining any serious thoughts of Rose Brad- 
 
WAVERLEY. 297 
 
 •-.'ardine. Indeed, Fergus's brain was a perpetual work-sbop of 
 scheme and intrigue of every possible kind and description ; while, 
 like many a mechanic of more ingenuity than steadiness, he would 
 often unexpectedly, and without any apparent motive, abandon one 
 plan, and go earnestly to work upon another, which was either 
 fresh from the forge of his imagination, or had at some former 
 period been flung aside half finished. It was therefore often 
 difficult to guess what line of conduct he might finally adopt upon 
 any given occasion. 
 
 Although Flora was sincerely attached to her brother, whose 
 high energies might indeed have commanded her admiration even 
 without the ties which bound them together, she was by no means 
 blind to his faults, which she considered as dangerous to the hopes 
 of any woman who should found her ideas of a happy marriage in 
 the peaceful enjoyment of domestic society, and the exchange of 
 mutual and engrossing affection. The real disposition of Waver- 
 ley, on the other hand, notwithstanding his dreams of tented fields 
 and military honour, seemed exclusively domestic. He asked antl 
 received no share in the busy scenes which were constantly going 
 on ai-ound him, and was rather annoyed than interested by the 
 discussion of contending claims, rights, and interests, which often 
 passed in his presence. All this pointed him out as the person 
 formed to make happy a spirit like that of Rose, which corre- 
 sponded with his own. 
 
 She remarked this point in Waverley's character one day while 
 she sat with Miss Bradwardine. " His genius and elegant taste,' 
 answered Rose, " cannot be interested in such trifling discussions. 
 What is it to him, for example, whether the Chief of the Macin- 
 dallaghers, who has brought out only fifty men, should be a colonel 
 or a captain ? and how could Mr. Waverley be supposed to inte- 
 rest himself in the violent altercation between your brother and 
 young Corrinaschian, whether the post of honour is due to the 
 eldest cadet of a clan or the youngest ?" 
 
 " My dear Rose, if he were the hero you suppose him, he would 
 interest himself in these matters, not indeed as important in them- 
 selves, but for the purpose of mediating between the ardent spirits 
 who actually do make them the subject of discord. You saw when 
 Corrinaschian raised his voice in great passion, and laid his hand 
 upon his sword, Waverley lifted his head as if he had just 
 awaked from a dream, and asked, with great composure, what 
 the matter was." 
 
 " Well, and did not the laughter they fell into at his absence of 
 mind, serve better to break off the dispute than any thing he could 
 have said to them ?" 
 
293 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " True," my dear, answered Flora ; " but not quite so creditably 
 ior Waverley as if he had brought them to their senses by force of 
 reason." 
 
 " Would you have him peace-maker general between all the 
 L;unpowder Highlanders in the army? I beg your pardon. Flora, 
 >our brother, you know, is out of the question ; he has more sense 
 tlian half of them. But can you think the fierce, hot, furious spirits, 
 of whose brawls we see much and hear more, and who terrify me 
 (Hit of my life every day in the world, are at all to be compared to 
 ^Vaverley ?" 
 
 " I do not compare him with those uneducated men, my dear 
 ]\.ose. I only lament, that, with his talents and genius, he does 
 jiot assume that place in society for which they eminently fit him, 
 and that he does not lend their full impulse to the noble cause in 
 
 which he has enlisted. Are there not Lochiel, and P , and 
 
 }il , and G , all men of the highest education, as well as the 
 
 first talents ? — why will he not stoop like them to be alive and use- 
 ful ? — I often believe his zeal is frozen by that proud cold-blooded 
 Englishman, whom he now lives with so much." 
 
 " Colonel Talbot ? — he is a very disagreeable person, to be sure. 
 He looks as if he thought no Scottish woman worth the trouble of 
 handing her a cup of tea. But Waverley is so gentle, so well 
 informed " 
 
 " Yes," said Flora, smiling, " he can admire the moon, and quote 
 a stanza from Tasso." 
 
 " Besides, you know how he fought," added Miss Bi-ad- 
 ^vardine. 
 
 " For mere fighting," answered Flora, " I believe all men (that is, 
 who deserve the name) are 'pretty much alike ; there is generally 
 more courage required to run away. They have besides, when 
 confronted with each other, a certain instinct for strife, as we see 
 in other male animals, such as dogs, bulls, and so forth. But high 
 and perilous enterprise is not Waverley's forte. He would never 
 have been his celebrated ancestor Sir Nigel, but only Sir Nigel's 
 eulogist and poet. I will tell you where he will be at home, my 
 dear, and in his place, — in the quiet circle of domestic happiness, 
 lettered indolence, and elegant enjoyments, of Waverley-Honour. 
 And he will refit the old library in the most exquisite Gothic taste, 
 and garnish its shelves with the rarest and most valuable volumes ; 
 — and he wiU draw plans and landscapes, and write verses, and 
 rear temples, and dig grottoes ; — and he will stand in a clear 
 summer night in the colonnade before the hall, and gaze on the 
 deer as they stray in the moonlight, or lie shadowed by the boughs 
 of the huge old fantastic oaks ; — and he will repeat verses to his 
 
WAVERLEY. 209 
 
 beautiful wife, who will hang upon his arm ; — and lie will be a 
 happy man." 
 
 " And she will be a happy woman," thought poor Rose. 15ut she 
 only sighed, and dropped the conversation. 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 FERGUS A SUITOR. 
 
 Waverley had, indeed, as he looked closer into the state of the 
 Chevalier's Court, less reason to be satisfied with it. It contained, 
 as they say an acorn includes all the ramifications of the future 
 oak, as many seeds of tracasserie and intrigue, as might have done • 
 honour to the Court of a large empire. Every person of conse- 
 quence had some separate object, which he pursued with a fury 
 that Waverley considered as altogether disproportioned to its im- 
 portance. Almost all had their reasons for discontent, although 
 the most legitimate was that of the worthy old Baron, who was 
 only distressed on account of the common cause. 
 
 " We shall hardly," said he one morning to Waverley, when they 
 had been viewing the castle, — " we shall hardly gain the obsidional 
 crown, which you wot well was made of the roots or grain which 
 takes root within the place besieged, or it may be of the herb 
 ■woodbind, paretaria, or pellitory ; we shall not, I say, gain it by 
 this same blockade or leaguer of Edinburgh Castle." For this 
 opinion, he gave most learned and satisfactory reasons, that the 
 reader may not care to hear repeated. 
 
 Having escaped from the old gentleman, Waverley went to 
 Fergus's lodgings by appointment, to await his return from Holy- 
 rood-House. " I am to have a particular audience to-morrow," 
 said Fergus to Waverley, overnight, " and you must meet me to 
 wish me joy of the success which I securely anticipate." 
 
 The morrow came, and in the Chief's apartment he found Ensign 
 Maccombich waiting to make report of his turn of dutj' in a sort of 
 ditch which they had dug across the Castle-hill, and called a 
 trench. In a short time the Chief's voice was heard on the stair 
 in a tone of impatient fury: — " Callum, — why, Galium Beg, — 
 Diaoul !" He entered the room with all the marks of a man 
 agitated by a towering passion ; and there were few upon whose 
 features rage produced a more violent effect. The veins of his 
 forehead swelled when he was in such agitation ; his nostril be- 
 came dilated ; his cheek and eye inflamed ; and his look that of 
 a demoniac. These appearances of half-suppressed rage were the 
 more frightful, because they were obviously caused by a strong 
 
3O0 WAVERLEY. 
 
 effort to temper with discretion an almost un£,overnable paroxysm 
 of passion, and resulted from an internal conflict of the most 
 dreadful kind, which agitated his whole frame of mortality. 
 
 As he entered the apartment, he unbuckled his broadsword, and 
 throwing it down with such violence that the weapon rolled to the 
 other end of the room, " I know not what," he exclaimed, " with- 
 holds me from taking a solemn oath that I will never more draw it 
 in his cause : — Load my pistols, Galium, and bring them hither 
 instantly ;— instantly !" Galium, whom nothing ever startled, dis- 
 mayed, or disconcerted, obeyed very coolly. Evan Dhu, upon 
 whose brow the suspicion that his Ghief had been insulted, called 
 up a corresponding storm, swelled in sullen silence, awaiting to 
 learn where or upon whom vengeance was to descend. 
 
 " So, Waverley, you are there," said the Ghief, after a moment's 
 recollection ; — " Yes, I remember I asked you to share my triumph, 
 and you have come to witness my — disappointment we shall call 
 it." Evan now presented the written report he had in his hand, 
 which Fergus threw from him with great passion. " I wish to 
 God," he said, " the old den would tumble down upon the heads of 
 the fools who attack, and the knaves who defend it ! I see, 
 Waverley, you think I am mad— leave us, Evan, but be within 
 call." 
 
 "The Colonel's in an unco kippage," said Mrs. Flockhart to 
 Evan, as he descended ; " I wish he may be weel,— the very veins 
 on his brent brow are swelled like whip-cord : wad he no tak 
 something ?" 
 
 " He usually lets blood for these fits," answered the Highland 
 Ancient with great composure. 
 
 ' When this officer left the room, the Ghieftain gradually reassumcd 
 some degi-ee of composure. " I know, Waverley," he said, " that 
 Colonel Talbot has persuaded you to curse ten times a-day your 
 engagement with us ; — nay, never deny it, for I am at this moment 
 tempted to curse my own. Would you believe it, 1 made this very 
 morning two suits to the Prince, and he has rejected them both : 
 what do you think of it ? " 
 
 " What can I think," answered Waverley, " tiU I know what your 
 requests were ? " 
 
 " Why, what signifies what they were, man ? I tell you it was 
 I that made them ; I, to whom he owes more than to any three who 
 have joined the standard ; for I negotiated the whole business, and 
 brought in all the Perthshire men when not one would have stirred, 
 I am not likely, I think, to ask anything very unreasonable, and if 
 I did, they might have stretched a point. — Well, but you shall know 
 all, now that I can draw my breath again with some freedom. — 
 
WAVERLEY. goj 
 
 Vou remember my earl's patent ; it is dated some years back, for 
 services then rendered ; and certainly my merit has not been dimi- 
 nished, to say the least, by my subsequent behaviour. Now, sir 
 I value this bauble of a coronet as little as you can, or any philoso- 
 pher on earth; for I hold that the chief of such a clan as the Sliochd 
 nan Ivor is superior in rank to any earl in Scotland. But I had 
 a particular reason for assuming this cursed title at this time. You 
 must know, that I learned accidentally that the Prince has been 
 pressing that old foolish Baron of Bradwardine to disinherit his 
 male heir, or nineteenth or twentieth cousin, who has taken a 
 command in the Elector of Hanover's militia, and to settle his 
 estate upon your pretty little friend Rose ; and this, as being the 
 command of his king and overlord, who may alter the destina- 
 tion of a fief at pleasure, the old gentleman seems well reconciled 
 to." 
 
 '■And what becomes of the homage?" 
 
 " Curse the homage !— I believe Rose is to pull off the queen's 
 slipper on her coronation-day, or some such trash. Well, sir, as 
 Rose Bradwardine would always have made a suitable match for 
 me, but for tliis idiotical predilection of her father for the heir-male, 
 it occurred to me there now remained no obstacle, unless that the 
 Baron might expect his daughter's husband to take the name of 
 Bradwardine (which you know would be impossible in my case), 
 and that this might be evaded by my assuming the title to which 
 I had so good a right, and which, of course, would supersede that 
 difficulty. If she was to be also Viscountess Bradwardine in her 
 own right, after her father's demise, so much the better ; I could 
 have no objection." 
 
 " But, Fergus," said Waverley, " I had no idea that you had any 
 affection for Miss Bradwardine, and you are always sneering at her 
 father." 
 
 " I have as much affection for Miss Bradwardine, my good friend, 
 as I think it necessary to have for the future mistress of my family, 
 and the mother of my children. She is a very pretty, intelligent 
 girl, and is certainly of one of the veiy first Lowland families ; and, 
 with a little of Flora's instructions and forming, will make a very 
 good figure. As to her father, he is an original, it is true, and an 
 absurd one enough ; but he has given such severe lessons to Sir 
 Hew Halbert, that dear defunct the Laird of Balmawhapple, and 
 others, that nobody dare laugh at him, so his absurdity goes for 
 nothing. I tell you there could have been no earthly objection — 
 none. I had settled the thing entirely in my own mind." 
 
 ■' But had you asked the Baron's consent," said Waverley, " or 
 Rose's?" 
 
302 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " To what purpose ? To have spoke to the Baron before I had 
 assumed my title would have only provoked a premature and hri- 
 tating discussion on the subject of the change of name, when, as 
 Earl of Glennaquoich, I had only to propose to him to carry his 
 d — d bear and boot-jack party per pale, or in a scutcheon of pre- 
 tence, or in a separate shield perhaps — any way that would not 
 blemish my own coat of arms. And as to Rose, I don't see what 
 objection she could have made, if her father was satisfied." 
 
 " Perhaps the same that your sister makes to me, you being 
 satisfied." 
 
 Fergus gave a broad stare at the comparison which this suppo- 
 sition implied, but cautiously suppressed the answer which rose to 
 his tongue. " O, we should easily have arranged all that. — So, sir, 
 I craved a private interview, and this morning was assigned ; and 
 I asked you to meet me here, thinking, like a fool, that I should 
 want your countenance as bride's-man. Well — I state my preten- 
 sions — they are not denied — the promises so repeatedly made, and 
 the patent granted, — they are acknowledged. But I propose, as 
 a natural consequence, to assume the rank which the patent 
 
 bestowed — I have the old story of the jealousy of C and 
 
 M trumpt up against me — I resist this pretext, and offer to 
 
 procure their written acquiescence, in virtue of the date of my 
 patent as prior to their silly claims — I assure you I would have had 
 such a consent from them, if it had been at the point of the sword 
 — And then out comes the real truth ; and he dares to tell me, to 
 my face, that my patent must be suppressed for the present, for 
 fear of disgusting that rascally coward and faineant — (naming the 
 rival chief of his own clan) who has no better title to be a chieftain 
 than I to be Emperor of China ; and who is pleased to shelter his 
 dastardly reluctance to come out, agreeable to his promise twenty 
 times pledged, under a pretended jealousy of the Prince's partiality 
 to me. And, to leave this miserable driveller without a pretence 
 for his cowardice, the Prince asks it as a personal favour of me, 
 forsooth, not to press my just and reasonable request at this 
 moment. After this, put your faith in princes I " 
 
 " And did your audience end here ? " 
 
 " End ? O no ! I was determined to leave him no pretence for 
 his ingratitude, and I therefore stated with all the composure 
 I could muster, — for I promise you I trembled with passion, — the 
 particular reasons I had for wishing that his Royal Highness would 
 impose upon me any other mode of exhibiting my duty and devo- 
 tion, as my views in life made, what at any other time would have 
 been a mere trifle, at this crisis a severe sacrifice ; and then I ex- 
 plained to him my full plan." 
 
WAVERLEY. 303 
 
 " And what did the Prince answer ? " 
 
 " Answer ? why — it is well it is written, Curse not the king, no, 
 not in thy thought ! — why, he answered, that truly he was glad 
 I had made him my confidant, to prevent more grievous disappoint- 
 ment, for he could assure me, upon the word of a prince, that Miss 
 Bradwardine's affections were engaged, and he was under a par- 
 ticular promise to favour them. ' So, my dear Fergus,' said he, 
 with his most gracious cast of smile, ' as the marriage is utterly out 
 of qu'jstion, there need be no hurry, you know, about the earldom.' 
 And so he glided off, and left me plante la." 
 
 ■' And what did you do ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you what I could have done at that moment — sold 
 myself to the devil or the Elector, whichever offered the dearest 
 revenge. However I am now cool. I know he intends to marry 
 her to some of his rascally Frenchmen, or his Irish officers : but 
 I will watch them close ; and let the man that would supplant me 
 look well to himself — Bisogna copvirsi, Signor." 
 
 After some further conversation, unnecessary to be detailed, 
 Waverley took leave of the Chieftain, whose fury had now subsided 
 into a deep and strong desire of vengeance, and returned home, 
 scarce able to analyze the mixture of feelings which the narrati\'e 
 had awakened in his own bosom. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 "to one thing constant never." 
 
 " I AM the very child of caprice," said Waverley to himself, as 
 he bolted the door of his apartment, and paced it with hasty steps 
 — " What is it to me that Fergus Mac-Ivor should wish to marry 
 Rose Bradwardine ? — I love her not — I might have been loved by 
 her perhaps — but I rejected her simple, natural, and affecting 
 attachment, instead of cherishing it into tenderness, and dedicated 
 myself to one who will never love mortal man, unless old Warwick, 
 the King-maker, should arise from the dead. The Baron too — I 
 would not have cared about his estate, and so the name would 
 have been no stumbling-block. The devil might have taken the 
 barren moors, and drawn off' the royal caliga, for any thing I 
 would have minded. But, framed as she is for domestic affection 
 and tenderness, for giving and receiving aU those kind and quiet 
 attentions which sweeten life to those who pass it together, she is 
 sought by Fergus Mac-Ivor. He will not use her ill, to be sure — 
 of that he is incapable — but he will neglect her after the first 
 month ; he will be too intent on subduing some rival chieftain, or 
 
304 WAVERLEY. 
 
 circumventing some favourite at court, on gaining some heathy 
 hill and lake, or adding to his bands some new troop of caterans, 
 to inquire what she does, or how she amuses herself. 
 
 ' And then will canker sorrow eat her bud, 
 And chase the native beauty from her cheek ; 
 And she will look as hollow as a ghost. 
 And dim and meagre as an ague fit. 
 And so she'll die.' « 
 
 And such a catastrophe of the most gentle creature on earth might 
 have been prevented, if Mr. Edward Waverley had had his eyes ! 
 — Upon my word, I cannot understand how I thought Flora so 
 much — that is, so very much — handsomer than Rose. She is 
 taller indeed, and her manner more formed ; but many people 
 think Miss Bradwardine's more natural ; and she is certainly much 
 younger. I should think Flora is two years older than I am — I 
 will look at them particularly this evening." 
 
 And with this resolution Waverley went to drink tea (as the 
 fashion was Sixty Years since) at the house of a lady of quality, 
 attached to the cause of the Chevalier, where he found, as he 
 expected, both the ladies. All rose as he entered, but Flora imme- 
 aiately resumed her place, and the conversation in which she was 
 engaged. Rose, on the contrary, almost imperceptibly made a 
 little way in the crowded circle for his advancing the corner of 
 a chair. — " Her manner, upon the whole, is most engaging," said 
 Waverley to himself. 
 
 A dispute occurred whether the Gaelic or Italian language was 
 most liquid, and best adapted for poetry ; the opinion for the 
 Gaelic, which probably might not have found supporters elsewhere, 
 was here fiercely defended by seven Highland ladies, who talked 
 at the top of their lungs, and screamed the company deaf, with 
 examples of Celtic euphonia. Flora, observing the Lowland ladies 
 sneer at the comparison, produced some reasons to show that it 
 was not altogether so absurd ; but Rose, when asked for her 
 opinion, gave it with animation in praise of Italian, which she had 
 studied with Waverley's assistance. " She has a more correct ear 
 than Flora, though a less accomplished musician," said Waverley 
 to himself. " I suppose Miss Mac-Ivor will next compare Mac- 
 Murrough nan Fonn to Ariosto ! " 
 
 Lastly, it so befell that the company diifered whether Fergus 
 should be asked to perform on the flute, at which he was an adept, 
 or Waverley invited to read a play of Shakspeare ; and the lady 
 of the house good-humouredly undertook to coUect the votes of the 
 company for poetry or music, under the condition, that the gentle- 
 
WAVERLEY. 305 
 
 man whose talents were not laid under contribution that evening, 
 should contribute them to enliven the next. It chanced that Rose 
 had the casting vote. Now Flora, who seemed to impose it as a 
 rule upon herself never to countenance any proposal which might 
 seem to encourage Waverley, had voted for music, providing the 
 Baron would take his violin to accompany Fergus. " I wish you 
 joy of your taste, Miss Mac-Ivor," thought Edward, as they sought 
 for his book. " I thought it better when we were at Glennaquoich ; 
 but certainly the Baron is no great performer, and Shakspeare is 
 worth listening to." 
 
 Romeo and Juliet was selected, and Edward read with taste, 
 feeling, and spirit, several scenes from that play. AU the company 
 applauded with their hands, and many with their tears. Flora, to 
 whom the drama was well known, was among the former ; Rose, to 
 whom it was altogether new, belonged to the latter class of 
 admirers. " She has more feeling too," said Waverley internally. 
 
 The conversation turning upon the incidents of the play, and 
 upon the characters, Fergus declared that the only one worth 
 naming, as a man of fashion and spirit, was Mercutio. " I could 
 not," he said, " quite follow all his old-fashioned wit, but he must 
 have been a very pretty fellow, according to the ideas of his time." 
 "And it was a shame," said Ensign Maccombich, who usually 
 followed bis Colonel everywhere, " for that Tibbert, or Taggart, or 
 whatever was his name, to stick him under the other gentleman's 
 arm while he was redding the fray." 
 
 The ladies, of course, declared loudly in favour of Romeo, but 
 this opinion did not go undisputed. The mistress of the house, and 
 several other ladies, severely reprobated the levity with which the 
 hero transfers his affections from Rosalind to Juhet. Flora re- 
 mained silent until her opinion was repeatedly requested, and then 
 answered, she thought the circumstance objected to, not only 
 reconcQable to nature, but such as in the highest degree evinced 
 the art of the poet. " Romeo is described," said she, " as a young 
 man, pecuharly susceptible of the softer passions ; his love is at 
 first fixed upon a woman who could afford it no return ; this he 
 repeatedly tells you, — 
 
 ' From love's weak childish bow she lives unharmed ; ' 
 
 and again, — 
 
 'She hath forsworn to love.' 
 
 Now, as it was impossible that Romeo's love, supposing him 
 a reasonable being, could continue to subsist without hope, the 
 poet has, with great art, seized the moment when he was reduced 
 actuallv to despair, to throw in his way an object more accom- 
 
3o6 WAVERLEY, 
 
 plislied than her by whom he had been rejected, and who is disposed 
 to repay his attachment. I can scarce conceive a situation more 
 calculated to enhance the ardour of Romeo's affection for Juliet, 
 than his being at once raised by her from the state of drooping 
 melancholy in which he appears first upon the scene, to the ecstatic 
 state in which he exclaims — 
 
 ' come what sorrow can, 
 
 It cannot countervail the exchange of joy 
 That one short moment gives me in her sight' " 
 
 " Good now. Miss Mac-Ivor," said a young lady of quality, " do 
 you mean to cheat us out of our prerogative ? will you persuade us 
 love cannot subsist without hope, or that the lover must become 
 fickle if the lady is cruel ? O fie ! I did not expect such an unsenti- 
 mental conclusion." 
 
 " A lover, my dear Lady Betty," said Flora, " may, I conceive, 
 persevere in his ' suit under very discouraging circumstances. 
 Affection can (now and then) withstand very severe storms of 
 rigour, but not a long polar frost of downright indifference. Don't, 
 even with your attractions, try the experiment upon any lover 
 whose faith you value. Love will subsist on wonderfully little 
 hope, but not altogether without it." 
 
 " It will be just like Duncan Mac-Girdie's mare," said Evan, " if 
 your ladyships please ; he wanted to use her by degi-ees to live 
 without meat, and just as he had put her on a straw a-day, the 
 poor thing died ! " 
 
 Evan's illustration set the company a-laughing, and the discourse 
 took a different turn. Shortly afterwards the party broke up, and 
 Edward returned home, musing on what Flora had said. " I will 
 love my Rosalind no more," said he : " she has given me a broad 
 enough hint for that ; and I will speak to her brother, and resign 
 my suit. But for a Juliet — -would it be handsome to interfere with 
 Fergus's pretensions ? — though it is impossible they can ever 
 succeed : and should they miscarry, what then ? — why then alors 
 comme alors" And with this resolution, of being guided by 
 circumstances, did our hero commit himself to repose. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 A BRAVE MAN IN SORROVir. 
 
 If my fair readers should be of opinion that my hero's levity in 
 love is altogether unpardonable, I must remind them that all his 
 griefs and difficulties did not arise from that sentimental source. 
 
WAVERLEY. 307 
 
 Even the lyric poet, who complains so feelingly of the pains of love, 
 could not forget, that, at the same time, he was " in debt and in 
 drink," which, doubtless, were great aggravations of his distress. 
 There were indeed whole days in which Waverley thought neither 
 of P'lora nor Rose Bradwardine, but which were spent in melan- 
 choly conjectures on the probable state of matters at Waverle\'- 
 Honour, and the dubious issue of the civil contest in which he was 
 pledged. Colonel Talbot often engaged him in discussions upon 
 the justice of the cause he had espoused. " Not," he said, " that it 
 is possible for you to quit it at this present moment, for, come what 
 will, you must stand by your rash' engagement. But I wish you to 
 be aware that the right is not with you ; that you are fighting 
 against the real interests of your country ; and that you ought, as 
 an. Englishman and a patriot, to take the first opportunity to leave 
 this unhappy expedition before the snow-ball melts." 
 
 In such political disputes, Waverley usually opposed the common 
 arguments of his party, vidth which it is unnecessary to trouble the 
 reader. But he had little to say when the Colonel urged him to 
 compare the strength by which they had undertaken to overthrovv 
 the Government, with that which was now assembling very rapidly 
 for its support. To this statement Waverley had but one answer : 
 " If the cause I have undertaken be perilous, there would be 
 the greater disgrace in abandoning it." And in his turn he 
 generally silenced Colonel Talbot, and succeeded in changing the 
 subject. 
 
 One night, when, after a long dispute of this nature, the friends 
 had separated, and our hero had retired to bed, he was awakened 
 about midnight by a suppressed groan. He started up and listened ; 
 it came from the apartment of Colonel Talbot, which was divided 
 from his own by a wainscotted partition, with a door of communi- 
 cation. Waverley approached this door, and distinctly heard one 
 or two deep-drawn sighs. What could be the matter? The 
 Colonel had parted from him, apparently, in his usual state of 
 spirits. He must have been taken suddenly ill. Under this im- 
 pression, he opened the door of communication very gently, and 
 perceived the Colonel, in his night-gown, seated by a table, on 
 which lay a letter and a picture. He raised his head hastily, as 
 Edward stood uncertain whether to advance or retire, and Waverley 
 perceived that his cheeks were stained with tears. 
 
 As if ashamed at being found giving way to such emotion, 
 Colonel Talbot rose with apparent displeasure, and said, with some 
 sternness, " I think, Mr. Waverley, my own apartment, and the 
 hour, might have secured even a prisoner against " 
 
 " Do not say intrusion, Colonel Talbot ; I heard you breathe 
 
 u 2 
 
3015 WAVERLEY. 
 
 hard, and feared you were ill ; that alone could have induced me 
 to break in upon you." 
 
 " I am well," said the Colonel, " perfectly well." 
 
 " But you are distressed," said Edward ; " is there any thing can 
 be done ? " 
 
 " Nothing, Mr. Waverley : I was only thinking of home, and of 
 some unpleasant occurrences there." 
 
 " Good God, my uncle ! " exclaimed Waverley. 
 
 " No, it is a grief entirely my own. I am ashamed you should 
 have seen it disarm me so much ; but it must have its course at 
 times, that it may be at others more der.ently supported. I would 
 have kept it secret from you ; for I think it will grieve you, and 
 yet you can administer no consolation. But you have surprised 
 me, — I see you are surprised yourself, — and I hate mystery. Read 
 that letter." 
 
 The letter was from Colonel Talbot's sister, and in these words : 
 
 " I received yours, my dearest brother, by Hodges. Sir E. W. 
 and Mr. R. are still at large, but are not permitted to leave London. 
 I wish to heaven I could give you as good an account of matters 
 in the square. But the news of the unhappy affair at Preston 
 came upon us, with the dreadful addition that you were among the 
 fallen. You know Lady Emily's state of health, when your friend- 
 ship for Sir E. induced you to leave her. She was much harassed 
 with the sad accounts from Scotland of the rebellion having broken 
 out ; but kept up her spirits, as, she said, it became your wife, and 
 for the sake of the future heir, so long hoped for in vain. Alas, 
 my dear brother, these hopes are now ended ! Notwithstanding all my 
 watchful cai-e, this unhappy rumour reached her without preparation. 
 She was taken iU immediately ; and the poor infant scarce survived 
 its birth. Would to God this were all ! Buf although the con- 
 tradiction of the horrible report by your own letter has greatly 
 
 revived her spirits, yet Dr. apprehends, I grieve to say, serious, 
 
 and even dangerous, consequences to her health, especially from 
 the uncertainty in which she must necessarily remain for some 
 time, aggravated by the ideas she has formed of the ferocity of 
 those with whom you are a prisoner. 
 
 " Do therefore, my dear brother, as soon as this reaches you, 
 endeavour to gain your release, by parole, by ransom, or any way 
 that is practicable. I do not exaggerate Lady Emily's state of 
 health ; but I must not — dare not — suppress the truth. — Ever, mv 
 dear Philip, your most affectionate sister, 
 
 " Lucy Talbot." 
 
WAVERLEY. 309 
 
 Edward stood motionless when he had perused this letter ; for 
 the conclusion was inevitable, that by the Colonel's journey in 
 quest of him, he had incurred this heavy calamity. It was severe 
 enough, even in its irretnediable part ; for Colonel Talbot and Lady 
 Emily, long without a family, had fondly exulted in the hopes 
 which were now blasted. But this disappointment was nothing to 
 the extent of the threatened evil ; and Edward, with horror, re- 
 garded himself as the original cause of both. 
 
 Ere he could collect himself sufficiently to speak. Colonel 
 Talbot had recovered his usual composure of manner, though his 
 troubled eye denoted his mental agony. 
 
 " She is a woman, my young friend, who may justify even a 
 soldier's tears." He reached him the miniature, exhibiting features 
 which fully justified the eulogium ; " and yet, God knows, what you 
 see of her there is the least of the charms she possesses — possessed, 
 I should perhaps say — But God's will be done ! " 
 
 " You must fly — ^you must fly instantly to her relief. It is not — 
 it shall not be too late." 
 
 " Fly ! — ^how is it possible? I am a prisoner — upon parole." 
 
 " I am your keeper — I restore your parole — I am to answer for 
 you." 
 
 "You cannot do so consistently with your duty; nor can I 
 accept a discharge from you with due regard to my own honour — 
 you would be made responsible." 
 
 " 1 wiU answer it with my head, if necessary," said Waverle}', 
 impetuously. " I have been the unhappy cause of the loss of your 
 child, make me not the murderer of your wife." 
 
 " No, my dear Edward," said Talbot, taking him kindly by the 
 hand, " you are in no respect to blame ; and if I concealed this 
 domestic distress for two days, it was lest your sensibility should 
 view it in that light. You could not think of me, hardly knew of 
 my existence, when I left England in quest of you. It is a respon- 
 sibility. Heaven knows, sufficiently heavy for mortality, that we 
 must answer for the foreseen and direct result of our actions, — for 
 their indirect and consequential operation, the gre^t and good 
 Being, who alone can foresee the dependence of human events on 
 each other, hath not pronounced his frail creatures liable." 
 
 " But that you should have left Lady Emily," said VVaverley, 
 with much emotion, "in the situation of all others the most 
 interesting to a husband to seek a " 
 
 " I only did my duty," answered Colonel Talbot, calmly, " and I 
 do not, ought not, to regret it. If the path of gratitude and honour 
 were always smooth and easy, there would be little merit in 
 following it ; but it moves often in contradiction to our interest and 
 
^lo WAVERLEY. 
 
 passions, and sometimes to our better affections. These are the 
 trials of life, and this, though not the least bitter" (the tears came 
 unbidden to his eyes), " is not the first which it has been my fate to 
 encounter — But we will talk of this to-morrow," he said, wringing 
 Waverley's hands. "Good night ; strive to forget it for a few hours. 
 It will dawn, I think, by six, and it is now past two. Good-night." 
 Edward retired, without trusting his voice with a reply. 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 EXERTION. . 
 
 When Colonel Talbot entered the breakfast parlour next 
 morning, he learned from Waverley's servant that our hero had 
 been abroad at an early hour, and was not yet returned. The 
 morning was well advanced before he again appeared. He arrived 
 out of breath, but with an air of joy that astonished Colonel 
 Talbot. 
 
 " There," said he, throwing a paper on the table, " there is my 
 morning's work. — Alick, pack up the Colonel's clothes. Make 
 haste, make haste." 
 
 The Colonel examined the paper with astonishment. It was a 
 pass from the Chevalier to Colonel Talbot, to repair to Leith, or ' 
 - any other port in possession of his Royal Highness's troops, and 
 there to embark for England or elsewhere, at his free pleasure ; 
 he only giving his parole of honour not to bear arms against the 
 house of Stuart for the space of a twelvemonth. 
 
 " In the name of God," said the Colonel, his eyes sparkling with 
 eagerness, "how did you obtain this ? " 
 
 " I was at the Chevalier's levee as soon as he usually rises. He 
 was gone to the camp at Duddingston. I pursued him thither ; 
 asked and obtained an audience — but I will teU you not a word 
 more, unless I see you begin to pack." 
 
 " Before I know whether I can avail myself of this passport, or 
 how it was obtained ? " 
 
 " O, you can take out the things again, you Icnow.. — Now I see 
 you busy, I will go on. When I first mentioned your name, his 
 eyes sparkled almost as bright as yours did two minutes since. 
 ' Had you,' he earnestly asked, ' shown any sentiments favourable 
 to his cause ? ' ' Not in the least, nor was there any hope you 
 would do so.' His countenance fell. I requested your freedom 
 ' Impossible,' he said ; ' your importance, as a friend and confidant 
 of such and such personages, made my request altogether extra- 
 vagant.' I told him my own story and yours ; and asked him to 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 3" 
 
 juflge wliat my feelings must Be by his own. He has a heart, and 
 a kind one, Colonel Talbot, you may say what you please. He took 
 a sheet of paper, and wrote the pass with his own hand. ' I will 
 not tmst myself with my council,' he said ; ' they will argue me out 
 of what is right. I will not endure that a friend, valued as I value 
 you, should be loaded with the painful reflections which must 
 afflict you in case of further misfortune in Colonel Talbot's family ; 
 nor will 1 keep a brave enemy a prisoner under such circumstances. 
 Besides,' said he, ' I think I can justify myself to my prudent 
 advisers, by pleading the good effect such lenity will produce on 
 the minds of the great English families with whom Colonel Talbot 
 is connected.' " 
 
 " There the politician peeped out," said the Colonel. 
 
 " Well, at least, he concluded like a king's son : — ' Take the pass- 
 port ; I have added a condition for form's sake ; but if the Colonel 
 objects to it, let him depart without giving any parole whatever. I 
 come here to war with men, but not to distress or endanger 
 women.' " 
 
 " Well, I never thought to have been so much indebted to the 
 Pretend " 
 
 " To the Prince," said Waverley, smiling. 
 
 "To the Chevalier," said the Colonel; "it is a good travelling 
 name, and which we may both freely use. Did he say any tning 
 more ? " 
 
 " Only asked if there was any thing else he could oblige me in ; 
 and when I replied in the negative, he shook me by the hand, and 
 wished all his followers were as considerate, since some friends of 
 mine not only asked all he had to bestow, but many things which 
 were entirely out of his power, or that of the greatest sovereign 
 upon earth. Indeed, he said, no prince seemed, in the eyes of his 
 followers, so like the Deity as himself, if you were to judge from 
 the extravagant requests which they daily preferred to him." 
 
 " Poor young gentleman," said the Colonel, " I suppose he begins 
 to feel the difficulties of his situation. Well, dear Waverley, this 
 is more than kind, and shaU not be forgotten while Philip Talbot 
 can remember anything. My life— pshaw — let Emily thank you 
 for that— this is a favour worth fifty lives. I cannot hesitate on 
 giving my parole in the circumstances : there it is — (he wrote it 
 out in form) — And now, how am I to get off.' " 
 
 " AH that is settled : your baggage is packed, my horses wait, 
 and a boat has been engaged, by the Prince's permission, to put 
 you on board the Fox frigate. I sent a messenger down to Leith 
 on purpose." 
 
 " That wiU do excellently well. Captain Beaver is my particular 
 
312 WAVERLEY. 
 
 friend : he will put me ashore at Berwick or Shields, from whence 
 I can ride post to London ; — and you must intrust me with the 
 packet of papers which you recovered by means of your Miss Bean 
 Lean. I may have an opportunity of using them to your ad- 
 vantage. — But I see your Highland friend, Glen what do you 
 
 call his barbarous name ? and his orderly with him — I must not 
 call him his orderly cut-throat any more, I suppose. See how 
 he walks as if the world were his own, with the bonnet on one 
 side of his head, and his plaid puffed out across his breast ! I 
 should like now to meet that youth where my hands were not 
 tied : I would tame his pride, or he should tame mine." 
 
 " For shame, Colonel Talbot ! you swell at sight of tartan, as 
 the bull is said to do at scarlet. You and Mac-Ivor have some 
 points not much unlike, so far as national prejudice is concerned." 
 
 The latter part of this discourse took place in the street. They 
 passed the Chief, the Colonel and he sternly and punctiliously 
 greeting each other, like two duellists before they take their ground. 
 It was evident the dislike was mutual. " I never see that 
 surly fellow that dogs his heels," said the Colonel, after he had 
 mounted his horse, " but he reminds me of lines I have somewhere 
 heard — upon the stage, I think : 
 
 t ' Close behind him 
 
 Stalks sullen Bertram, like a sorcerer's fiend, 
 Pressing to be employed.' " 
 
 " I assure you. Colonel," said Waverley, " that you judge too 
 harshly of the Highlanders." 
 
 " Not a whit, not a whit ; I cannot spare them a jot, I cannot 
 bate them an ace. Let them stay in their own barren mountains, 
 and puff and swell, and hang their bonnets on the horns of the 
 moon, if they have a mind ; but what business have they to come 
 where people wear breeches, and speak an intelligible language.' — 
 I mean intelligible in comparison "to their gibberish, for even the 
 Lowlanders talk a kind of English little better than the Negroes in 
 
 Jamaica. I could pity the Pr , I mean the Chevalier himself, 
 
 for having so many desperadoes about him. And they learn their 
 trade so early. There is a kind of subaltern imp, for example, 
 a sort of sucking devil, whom your friend Glenna — Glenamuck 
 there, has sometimes in his train. To look at him, he is about 
 fifteen years ; but he is a century old in mischief and villany. 
 He was playing at quoits the other day in the court ; a gentle- 
 man, a decent-looking person enough, came past, and as a quoit hit 
 his shin, he lifted his cane : but my young bravo whips out his 
 pistol, like Beau CUncher in the Trip to the Jubilee, and had not a 
 
VVAVERLEY. 313 
 
 scream of Gardez Veau from an upper window, set all parties 
 a scampering for fear of the inevitable consequences, the poor 
 gentleman would have lost his life by the hands of that little 
 cockatrice." 
 
 "A fine character you'll give of Scotland upon your return. 
 Colonel Talbot." 
 
 " O, Justice Shallow," said the Colonel, " will save me the 
 trouble — ' Barren, barren, beggars all, beggars all. Marry, good 
 air,' — and that only when you are fairly out of Edinburgh, and not 
 yet come to Leith, as is our case at present." 
 
 In a short time they arrived at the seaport : — 
 
 " The boat rock'd at the pier of Leith, 
 
 Full loud the wind blew down the ferry ; 
 The ship rode at the Berwick Law" 
 
 " Farewell, Colonel ; may you find all as you would wish it ! 
 Perhaps we may meet sooner than you expect : they talk of an 
 immediate route to England." 
 
 " Tell me nothing of that," said Talbot ; '' I wish to carry no 
 news of your motions." 
 
 " Simply, then, adieu. Say, with a thousand kind greetings, all 
 that is dutiful and affectionate to Sir Everard and Aunt Rachel — 
 Think of me as kindly as you can — speak of me as indulgently as 
 your conscience will permit, and once more adieu." 
 
 " And adieu, my dear Waverley; many, many thanks for your 
 kindness. Unplaid yourself on the first opportunity. I shall ever 
 think on you with gratitude, and the worst of my censure shall be, 
 Que diable alloit ilfaire dans cette galere ? " 
 
 And thus they parted, Colonel Talbot going on board of the 
 boat, and Waverley returning to Edinburgh. 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 THE MARCH. 
 
 It is not our purpose to intrude upon the province of history. 
 We shall therefore only remind our readers, that about the begin- 
 ning of November the Young Chevalier, at the head of about six 
 thousand men at the utmost, resolved to peril his cause on an 
 attempt to penetrate into the centre of England, although aware of 
 the mighty preparations which were made for his reception. They . 
 set forward on this crusade in weather which would have rendered 
 any other troops incapable of marching, but which in reality gave 
 these active mountaineers advantages over a less hardy enemy. In 
 
314 WAVERLEY. 
 
 defiance of a superior army lying upon the Borders, under Field-. 
 Marshal Wade, they besieged and took Carlisle, and soon after- 
 wards prosecuted their daring march to the southward. 
 
 As Colonel Mac-Ivor's regiment marched in the van of the clans, 
 he and Waverley, who now equalled any Highlander in the endu- 
 rance of fatigue, and was become somewhat acquainted with their 
 language, were perpetually at its head. They marked the progress 
 of the army, however, with very different eyes. Fergus, all air and 
 fire, and confident against the world in arms, measured nothing 
 but that every step was a yard nearer London. He neither asked, 
 expected, nor desired any aid, except that of the clans, to place the 
 Stuarts once more on the throne ; and when by chance a few adhe- 
 rents joined the standard, he always considered them in the light 
 of new claimants upon the favours of the future monarch, who, he 
 concluded, must therefore substract for their gratification so much 
 of the bounty which ought to be shared among his Highland fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 Edward's views were very different. He could not but observe, 
 that in those towns in which they proclaimed James the Third, "no 
 man cried, God bless him." The mob stared and listened, heart- 
 less, stupified, and dull, but gave few signs even of that boisterous 
 spirit which induces them to shout upon all occasions, for the mere 
 exercise of their most sweet voices. The Jacobites had been taught 
 to believe that the north-western counties abounded with wealthy 
 squires and hardy yeomen, devoted to the cause of the White Rose. 
 But of the wealthier Tories they saw little. Some fled from their 
 houses, some feigned themselves sick, some surrendered themselves 
 to the Government as suspected persons. Of such as remained, 
 the ignorant gazed with astonishment, mixed with horror and aver- 
 sion, at the wild appearance, unknown language, and singular garb, 
 of the Scottish clans. And to the more prudent, their scanty num- 
 bers, apparent deficiency in discipline, and poverty of equipment, 
 seemed certain tokens of the calamitous termination of their rash 
 undertaking. Thus the few who joined them were such as bigotry 
 of political principle blinded to consequences, or whose broken for- 
 tunes induced them to hazard all on a risk so desperate. 
 
 The Baron of Bradwardine being asked what he thought of these 
 recruits, took a long pinch of snuff, and answered drily, " that he 
 could not but have an excellent opinion of them, since they resem- 
 bled precisely the followers who attached themselves to the good 
 King David at the cave of AduUam ; videlicet, every one that was 
 in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was 
 discontented, which the vulgate renders bitter of soul ; and doubt- 
 less," he said, " they will prove mighty men of their hands, and 
 
WAVERLEY. 315 
 
 there is much need that they should, for I have seen many a sour 
 look cast upon us." 
 
 But none of these considerations moved Fergus. He admired 
 the luxuriant beauty of the country, and the situation of many of 
 the seats which they passed. " Is Waverley-Honour like that 
 house, Edward?" 
 
 " It is one-half larger." 
 
 " Is your uncle's park as fine a one as that ?" 
 
 " It is three times as extensive, and rather resembles a forest 
 than a mere park." 
 
 " Flora will be a happy woman." 
 
 " I hope Miss Mac-Ivor will have much reason for happiness, 
 unconnected with Waverley-Honour." 
 
 " I hope so too ; but, to be mistress of such a place, will be a 
 pretty addition to the sum total." 
 
 " An addition, the want of which, I trust, will be amply supplied 
 by some other means." 
 
 " How," said Fergus, stopping short, and turning upon Waverley 
 — " How am I to understand that, Mr. Waverley ? — Had I the 
 pleasure to hear you aright ? " 
 
 " Perfectly right, Fergus." 
 
 " And I am to understand that j'ou no longer desire my alliance, 
 and my sister's hand ? " 
 
 " Your sister has refused mine," said Waverley, " both directly, 
 and by all the usual means by which ladies repress undesired 
 attentions." 
 
 " I have no idea," answered the Chieftain, " of a lady dismissing 
 or a gentleman withdrawing his suit, after it has been approved of 
 by her legal guardian, without giving him an opportunity of talking 
 the matter over with the lad)'. You did not, I suppose, expect my 
 sister to drop into your mouth like a ripe plum, the first moment 
 you chose to open it ? " 
 
 " As to the lady's title to dismiss her lover, Colonel," replied 
 Edward, "it is a point which you must argue with her, as I am 
 ignorant of the customs of the Highlands in that particular. But as 
 to my title to acquiesce in a rejection from her without an appeal 
 to your interest, I will tell you plainly, without meaning to under- 
 value Miss Mac-Ivor's admitted beauty and accomplishments, that 
 I would not take the hand of an angel, with an empire for her 
 dowry, if her consent were extorted by the importunity of friends 
 and guardians, and did not flow from her own free inclina- 
 tion." 
 
 "An angel, with a dowry of an empire," repeated Fergus, in a 
 tone of bitter irony, " is not very likely to be pressed upon a 
 
3i6 WAVERLEY. 
 
 shire squire. But, sir," changing his tone, " if Flora Mac-Ivor 
 
 have not the dowry of an empire, she is my sister ; and that is suffi- 
 cient at least to secure her against being treated with anything 
 approaching to levity." 
 
 " She is Flora Mac-Ivor, sir," said Waverley, with finnness, 
 " which to me, were I capable of treating any woman with levity, 
 would be a more effectual protection." 
 
 The brow of the Chieftain was now fully clouded, but Edward 
 felt too indignant at the unreasonable tone which he had adopted, 
 to avert the storm by the least concession. They both stood still 
 while this short dialogue passed, and Fergus seemed half disposed 
 to say something more violent, but, by a strong effort, suppressed 
 his passion, and, turning his face foi-ward, walked sullenly on. As 
 they had always hitherto walked together, and almost constantly 
 side by side, Waverley pursued his course silently in the same 
 direction, determined to let the Chief take his own time in recover- 
 ing the good humour which he had so unreasonably discarded, and 
 firm in his resolution not to bate him an inch of dignity. 
 
 After they had marched on in this sullen manner about a mile, 
 Fergus resumed the discourse in a different tone. " I believe. I was 
 warm, my dear Edward, but you provoke me with your want of 
 knowledge of the world. You have taken pet at some of Flora's 
 prudery, or high-flying notions .of loyalty, and now, like a child, 5'ou 
 quarrel with the plaything you have been crying for, and beat me, 
 your faithful keeper, because my arm cannot reach to Edin- 
 burgh to hand it to you. I am sure, if I was passionate, the morti- 
 fication of losing the alliance of such a friend, after your arrange- 
 ment had been the talk of both Highlands and Lowlands, and that 
 without so much as knowing why or wherefore, might well provoke 
 calmer blood than mine. I shall write to Edinburgh, and put all 
 to rights ; that is, if you desire I should do so, as indeed I cannot 
 suppose that your good opinion of Flora, it being such as you have 
 often expressed to me, can be at once laid aside." 
 
 " Colonel Mac-Ivor," said Edward, who had no mind to be hur- 
 ried farther or faster than he chose, in a matter which he had already 
 considered as broken off, " I am fully sensible of the value of your 
 good offices ; and certainly, by your zeal on my behalf in such an 
 affair, you do me no small honour. But as Miss Mac-Ivor has 
 made her election freely and voluntarily, and as all my- attentions 
 in Edinburgh were received with more than coldness, I cannot, 
 in justice either to her or myself, consent that she should again be 
 harassed upon this topic. I would have mentioned this to you 
 some time since, but you saw the footing upon which we stood 
 together, and must have understood it. Had I thought otherwise, 
 
WAVERLEY. 317 
 
 I would have earlier spoken ; but I had a natural reluctance to 
 enter upon a subject so painful to us both." 
 
 _"0, very weD, Mr. Waverley," said Fergus, haughtily, "the 
 thing is at an end. I have no occasion to press my sister upon any 
 man." 
 
 " Nor have I any occasion to court repeated rejection from the 
 same young lady," answered Edward, in the same tone. 
 
 " I shall make due inquiry, however," said the Chieftain, without 
 noticing the interruption, " and learn what my sister thinks of all 
 this: we will then see whether it is to end here." 
 
 " Respecting such inquiries, you will of course be guided by your 
 own judgment," said Waverley. " It is, I am aware, impossible 
 Miss Mac-Ivor can change her mind ; and were such an unsuppo- 
 sable case to happen, it is certain I will not change mine. I only 
 mention this to prevent any possibility of future misconstruc- 
 tion." 
 
 Gladly at this moment would Mac-Ivor have put their quarrel to 
 a personal arbitrement ; his eye flashed fire, and he measured 
 Edward as if to choose where he might best plant a mortal wound. 
 But although we do not now quarrel according to the modes and 
 3gure^ of Caranza or Vincent Saviola, no one knew better than 
 Fergus that there must be some decent pretext for a mortal duel. 
 For instance, you may challenge a man for treading on your corn 
 m a crowd, or for pushing you up to the wall, or for taking your 
 seat in the theatre ; but the modem code of honour wiU not permit 
 you to found a quarrel upon your right of compelling a man to con- 
 tinue addresses to a female relative, which the fair lady has already 
 refused. So that Fergus was compelled to stomach this supposed 
 affront, until the whirligig of time, whose motion he promised him- 
 self he would watch most sedulously, should bring about an oppor- 
 tunity of revenge. 
 
 Waverle/s servant always led a saddle-horse for him in the rear 
 of the battalion to which he was attached, though his master seldom 
 rode. But now, incensed at the domineering and unreasonable con- 
 duct of his late friend, he fell behind the column, and mounted his 
 horse, resolving to seek the Baron of Bradwardine, and request 
 permission to volunteer in his troop, instead of the Mac-Ivor 
 regiment. 
 
 " A happy time of it I should have had," thought he, after he was 
 mounted, " to have been so closely allied to this superb specimen of 
 pride and self-opinion and passion. A colonel ! why, he should 
 have been a generalissimo. A petty chief of three or four hundred 
 men ! — his pride might suffice for the Cham of Tartary — the Grand 
 Seignior — ^the Great Mogul ! I am well free of him. Were Flora 
 
3i8 WAVERLEY. 
 
 an an^el, she would bring with her a second Lucifer of ambition 
 and wrath for a brother-in-law." 
 
 The Baron, whose learning (like Sancho's jests while in the Sierra 
 Morena) seemed to grow mouldy for want of exercise, joyfully 
 embraced the opportunity of Waverley's offering his service 
 in his regiment, to bring it into some exertion. The good- 
 natured old gentleman, however, laboured to effect a reconciliation 
 between the two quondam friends. Fergus turned a cold ear to his 
 remonstrances, though he gave them a respectful hearing ; and as 
 for Waverley, he saw no reason why he should be the first in court- 
 ing a renewal of the intimacy which the Chieftain had so unreason- 
 ably disturbed. The Baron then mentioned the matter to the 
 Prince, who, anxious to prevent quarrels in his little army, declared 
 he would himself remonstrate with Colonel Mac-Ivor on the unrea- 
 sonableness of his conduct. But, in the hurry of their march, it 
 was a day or two before he had an opportunity to exert his influ- 
 ence in the manner proposed. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Waverley turned the instructions he had 
 received while in Gardiner's dragoons to some account, and assisted 
 the Baron in his command as a sort of adjutant. " Parmi Us 
 aveugles im borgne est roi," s"ays the French proverb ; and the 
 cavalry, which consisted chiefly of Lowland gentlemen, their tenants 
 and servants, formed a high opinion of Waverley's skiU, and a great 
 attachment to his person. This was indeed partly owing to the 
 satisfaction which they felt at the distinguished English volunteer's 
 leaving the Highlanders to rank among them ; for there was a 
 latent grudge between the horse and foot, not only owing to the 
 difference of the services, but because most of the gentlemen, living 
 near the Highlands, had at one time or other had quarrels with 
 the tribes in their vicinity, and all of them looked with a jealous 
 eye on the Highlanders' avowed pretensions to superior valour, and 
 utility in the Prince's service. 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 THE CONFUSION OF KING AGRAMANT'S CAMP. 
 
 It was Waverley's custom sometimes to ride a little apart from 
 the main body, to look at any object of curiosity which occurred on 
 the march. They were now in Lancashire, when, attracted by 
 a castellated old hall, he left the squadron for half an hour, to take 
 a survey and slight sketch of it. As he returned down the avenlie, he 
 was met by Ensign Maccombich. This man had contracted a sort of 
 regard for Edward since the day of his first seeing him at TuUy- 
 
WAVERLEY. 319 
 
 Veolan, and introducing him to the Highlands. He seemed to 
 loiter, as if on purpose to meet with our hero. Yet, as he passed 
 him, he only approached his stirrup, and pronounced the single 
 word, " Beware ! " and then walked swiftly on, shunning all further 
 ■communication. 
 
 Edward, somewhat surprised at this hint, followed with his eyes 
 the course of Evan, who speedily disappeared among the trees. 
 His servant, Alick Polwarth, who was in attendance, also looked 
 after the Highlander, and then riding up close to his master, said, 
 
 " The ne'er be in me, sir, if I think you're safe amang thae High- 
 land rinthereouts." 
 
 " What do you mean, Alick ? " said Waverley. 
 
 " The Mac-Ivors, sir, hae gotten it into their heads, that ye hae 
 affronted their young leddy, Miss Flora ; and I hae heard mae than 
 ane say, they wadna tak muckle to mak a black-cock o' ye ; and ye 
 ken well eneugh there's mony o' them wudna mind a bawbee the 
 weising a ball through the Prince himsell, an the Chief gae them 
 the wink — or whether he did or no, if they thought it a thing that 
 would please him when it was dune." 
 
 Waverley, though confident that Fergus Mac-Ivor was incapable 
 of such treachery, was by no means equally sure of the forbearance 
 of his followers. He knew, that where the honour of the Chief or 
 bis family was supposed to be touched, the happiest man would be 
 be that could first avenge the stigma ; and he had often heard them 
 quote a proverb, . " That the best revenge was the most speedy 
 and most safe." Coupling this with the hint of Evan, he judged it 
 most prudent to set spurs to his horse, and ride briskly back to the 
 squadron. Ere he reached the end of the long avenue, however, 
 a ball whistled past him, and the report of a pistol was heard. 
 
 " It was that deevil's buckie, Galium Beg," said Alick; "I saw 
 him whisk away through amang the reises." 
 
 Edward, justly incensed at this act of treachery, galloped out of 
 the avenue, and obsei-ved the battalion of Mac-Ivor at some distance 
 moving along the common, in which it terminated. He also saw 
 an individual running very fast to join the party; this he concluded 
 was the intended assassin, who, by leaping an inclosure, might 
 easily make a much shorter path to the main body than he could 
 £nd on horseback. Unable to contain himself, he commanded 
 Alick to go to the Baron of Bradwardine, who was at the head of 
 his regiment about half a mile in front, and acquaint him with what 
 had happened. He himself immediately rode up to Fergus's regi- 
 ment. The Chief himself was in the act of joining them. He was on 
 horseback, having returned from waiting on the Prince. On perceiv- 
 ing Edward approaching, he put his horse in motion towards him. 
 
320 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " Colonel Mac-Ivor," said Waverley, without any farther saluta- 
 tion, " I have to inform you that one of your people has this instant 
 fired at me from a lurking place." 
 
 " As that," answered Mac-Ivor, " excepting the circumstance of 
 a lurking place, is a pleasure vifhich I presently propose to myself, 
 I should be glad to know which of my clansmen dared to anticipate 
 me." 
 
 " I shall certainly be at your command whenever you please ; — 
 the gentlema.n who took your office upon himself is your page there, 
 Galium Beg." 
 
 " Stand forth from the ranks, CaUum ! Did you fire at Mr. 
 Waverley?" 
 
 " No," answered the unblushing Galium. 
 
 "You did," said Alick Polwarth, who was already returned, 
 having met a trooper by whom he dispatched an account of what 
 was going forward to the Baron of Bradwardine, while he himself 
 returned to his master at fuU gallop, neither sparing the rowels of 
 his spurs nor the sides of his horse. " You did ; I saw you as 
 plainly as I ever saw the auld kirk at Goudingham." 
 
 " You lie," replied Galium, with his usual impenetrable obstinacy. 
 The combat between the knights would certainly, as in the days of 
 chivalry, have been preceded by an encounter between the squires 
 (for Alick was a stout-hearted Merseman, and feared the bow of 
 Cupid far more than a Highlander's dirk or claymore), but Fergus, 
 with his usual tone of decision, demanded Gallum's pistol. The 
 cock was down, the pan and muzzle were black with the smoke ; it 
 had been that instant fired. 
 
 " Take that," said Fergus, striking the boy upon the head with 
 the heavy pistol-but with his whole force, — " take that for acting 
 without orders, and lying to disguise it." Galium received the blow- 
 without appearing to flinch from it, and fell without sign of life. 
 " Stand still, upon your lives ! " said Fergus to the rest of the clan ; 
 " I blow out the brains of the first man who interferes between Mr. 
 Waverley and me." They stood motionless ; Evan Dhu alone 
 showed symptoms of vexation and anxiety. Galium lay on the 
 ground bleeding copiously, but no one ventured to give him any 
 assistance. It seemed as if he had gotten his death-blow. 
 
 " And now for you, Mr. Waverley ; please to turn your horse 
 twenty yards with me upon the common." Waverley complied ; 
 and Fergus, confronting him when they were a little way from the 
 line of march, said, with. great aff'ected coolness, " I could not but 
 wonder, sir, at the fickleness of taste which you were pleased to- 
 express the other day. But it was not an angel, as you justly 
 observed, who had charms for you, unless she brought an empire 
 
WAVERLEY. 32, 
 
 for her fortune. I have now an excellent commentaiy upon that 
 obscure text." 
 
 " I am at a loss even to guess at your meaning, Colonel Mac- 
 Ivor, unless it seems plain that you intend to fasten a quarrel 
 upon me." 
 
 " Your affected ignorance shall not sei-ve you, sir. The Prince 
 — the Prince, himself, has acquainted me with your manoeuvres. 
 I little thought that your engagements with Miss Bradwardine were 
 the reason of your breaking off your intended match with my 
 sister. I, suppose the information that the Baron had altered the 
 destination of his estate, was quite a sufficient reason for slighting 
 your friend's sister, and carrying off your friend's mistress." 
 
 " Did the Prince tell you 1 was engaged to Miss Bradwardine ? " 
 said Waverley. " Impossible." *• 
 
 " He did, sir," answered Mac-Ivor; " so, either draw and defend 
 yourself, or resign your pretensions to the lady." 
 
 " This is absolute madness," exclaimed Waverley, " or some 
 strange mistake !" 
 
 " O ! no evasion ! draw your sword ! " said the infuriated Chief- 
 tain, — his own already unsheathed. 
 
 "Must I fight in a madman's quarrel?" 
 
 " Then give up now, and for ever, all pretensions to Miss Brad- 
 wardine's hand." 
 
 " What title have you," cried Waverley, utterly losing command 
 of himself, — " What title have you, or any man living, to dictate 
 such terms to me ? " And he also drew his sword. 
 
 At this moment, the Baron of Bradwardine, followed by several 
 of his' troop, came up on the spur, some from curiosity, others to 
 take part in the quarrel, which they indistinctly understood had 
 broken out between the Mac-Ivors and their corps. The clan, 
 seeing them approach, put themselves in motion to support their 
 Chieftain, and a scene of confusion commenced, which seemed 
 likely to terminate in bloodshed. A hundred tongues were in 
 motion at once. The Baron lectured, the Chieftain stormed, the 
 Highlanders screamed in Gaelic, the horsemen cursed and swore 
 in Lowland Scotch. At length matters came to such a pass, that 
 the Baron threatened to charge the Mac-Ivors unless they resumed 
 their ranks, and many of them, in return, presented their fire-arms 
 at him and the other troopers. The confusion was privately fostered 
 by old Ballenkeiroch, who made no doubt that his own day of ven- 
 geance was arrived, when, behold ! a cry arose of " Room ! make 
 way ! — place ct Monseigneu?' / place ct Monseigneur J " This an- 
 nounced the approach of the Prince, who came up with a party of 
 Fitz-James's foreign dragoons that acted as his body guard. His 
 
322 
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 arrival produced some degree of order. The Highlanders re-assumed 
 their ranks, the cavalry fell in and formed squadron, and the Baron 
 and Chieftain vpere silent. 
 
 The Prince called them and Waverley before him. Having 
 heard the original cause of the quarrel through the villany of 
 Galium Beg, he ordered him into custody of the provost-marshal 
 for immediate execution, in the event of his surviving the chastise- 
 ment inflicted by his Chieftain. Fergus, however, in a tone betwixt 
 claiming a right and asTcing a favour, requested he might be left to 
 his disposal, and promised his punishment should be exemplai-y 
 To deny this, might have seemed to encroach on the patriarchal 
 authority of the Chieftains, of which they were very jealous, and 
 they were not persons to be disobliged. Callum was therefore left 
 to the justice of his own tribe. 
 
 The Prince next demanded to know the new cause of quarrel 
 between Colonel Mac-Ivor and Waverley. There was a pause. 
 Both gentlemen found the presence of the Baron of Bradwardine 
 (for by this time all three had approached the Chevalier by his 
 command) an insurmountable barrier against entering upon a 
 subject where the name of his daughter must unavoidably be 
 mentioned. They turned their eyes on the ground, with looks in 
 which shame and embarrassment were mingled with displeasure. 
 The Prince, who had been educated amongst the discontented and 
 mutinous spirits of the court of St. Germains, where feuds of every 
 kind were the daily subjects of solicitude to the dethroned sove- 
 reign, had served his apprenticeship, as old Frederick of Prussia 
 would have said, to the trade of royalty. To promote or restore 
 concord among his followers was indispensable. Accordingly he 
 took his measures. 
 
 " Monsieur de Beaujeu ! " 
 
 "Monseigneur!" said a very handsome French cavalry officer, 
 who was in attendance. 
 
 " Ayez la bontd d'alligner ces montagnaj-ds Ik, ainsi que la 
 cavalerie, s'il vous plait, et de les remettre k la marche. Vous 
 parlez si bien I'Anglois, cela ne vous donneroit pas beaucoup de 
 peine." 
 
 " Ah ! pas de tout, Monseigneur," replied Mons. le Compte de 
 Beaujeu, his head bending down to the neck of his little prancing 
 highly-managed charger. Accordingly he piaffed away, in high 
 spirits and confidence, to the head of Fergus's regiment, although 
 understanding not a word of GaeUc, and very little English. 
 
 " Messieurs les sauvages Ecossois— dat is— gentilmans savages, 
 have the goodness d'arranger vous." 
 
 The clan, comprehending the order more from the gesture than 
 
WAVERLEY. 323 
 
 the words, and seeing the Prince himself present, hastened to dress 
 their ranks. 
 
 " Ah ! ver well ! dat is fort bien ! " said the Count de Beaujeu. 
 ■" Gentilmans sauvages — mais tr^s bien — Eh bien ! — Ou'est ce que 
 vous appellez visage, Monsieur?" (to a lounging trooper who stood 
 by him). " Ah, oui 1 face — Je vous remercie. Monsieur. — Gentils- 
 hommes, have de goodness to make de face to de right par file, 
 dat is, by files. — Marsh! — Mais, tr^s bien— encore. Messieurs; il 
 faut vous mettre k la marche .... Marchez done, au nom de Dieu, 
 parceque j'ai oubli^ le mot Anglois — mais vous etes des braves gens, 
 et me comprenez tr^s bien." 
 
 The Count next hastened to put the cavalry in motion. " Gentil- 
 mans cavalry, you must fall in — Ah ! par ma foi, I did not say fall 
 off ! I am a fear de little gross fat gentilman is moche hurt. Ah, 
 mon Dieu ! c'est le Commissaire qui nous a apport^ les premieres 
 nouvelles de cet maudit fracas. Je suis trop fich^, Monsieur ! " 
 
 But poor Macwheeble, who, with a sword stuck across him, 
 and a white cockade as large as a pancake, now figured in the 
 character of a commissary, being overturned in the bustle occa- 
 sioned by the troopers hastening to get themselves in order in the 
 Prince's presence, before he could rally his galloway, slunk to the 
 rear amid the unrestrained laughter of the spectators. 
 
 " Eh bien. Messieurs, wheel to de right — Ah ! dat is it ! — Eh, 
 Monsieur de Bradwardine, ayez la bont6 de vous mettre k la tete de 
 votre regiment, car, par Dieu, je n'en puis plus !," 
 
 The Baron of Bradwardine was obliged to go to the assistance 
 of Monsieur de Beaujeu, after he had fairly expended his few 
 English military phrases. One purpose of the Chevalier was thus 
 answered. The other he proposed was, that in the eagerness to 
 hear and comprehend commands issued through such an indistinct 
 medium in his own presence, the thoughts of the soldiers in both 
 corps might get a current different from the angry channel in 
 which they were flowing at the time. 
 
 Charles Edward was no sooner left with the Chieftain and 
 Waverley, the rest of his attendants being at some distance, than 
 he said, " If I owed less to your disinterested friendship, I could 
 be most seriously angry with both of you for this very extra- 
 ordinary and causeless broil, at a moment when my father's 
 service so decidedly demands the most perfect unanimity. But 
 the worst of my situation is, that my very best friends hold they 
 have liberty to ruin themselves, as well as the cause they are 
 engaged in, upon the slightest caprice." 
 
 Both the young men protested their resolution to submit every 
 difference to his arbitration. " Indeed," said Edward, " I hardly 
 
324 WAVERLEY. 
 
 know of what I am accused. I sought Colonel Mac-Ivor merely to 
 mention to him that I had narrowly escaped assassination at the 
 hand of his immediate dependent, a dastardly revenge, which I 
 knew him to be incapable of authorising. As to the cause for which 
 he is disposed to fasten a quarrel upor( me, I am ignorant of it, 
 unless it be that he accuses me, most unjustly, of having engaged 
 the affections of a young lady in prejudice of his pretensions." 
 
 " If there is an error," said the Chieftain, " it arises from a 
 conversation which I held this morning with his Royal Highness 
 himself." 
 
 "With me?" said the Chevalier; "how can Colonel Mac-Ivor 
 have so far misunderstood me?" 
 
 He then led Fergus aside, and, after five minutes' earnest con- 
 versation, spurred his horse towards Edward. " Is it possible — 
 nay, ride up. Colonel, for I desire no secrets — Is it possible, Mr. 
 Waverley, that I am mistaken in supposing that you are an 
 accepted lover of Miss Bradwardine? a fact of which I was by 
 circumstances, though not by communication from you, so abso- 
 lutely convinced, that I alleged it to Vich Ian Vohr this morning 
 as a reason why, without offence to him, you might not continue 
 to be ambitious of an alliance, which to an unengaged person, 
 even though once repulsed, holds out too many charms to be 
 lightly laid aside." 
 
 " Your Royal Highness," said Waverley, " must have founded 
 on circumstances altogether unknown to me, when you did me the 
 distinguished honour of supposing me an accepted lover of Miss 
 Bradwardine. I feel the distinction implied in the supposition, 
 but I have no title to it. For the rest, my confidence in my own 
 merit is too justly slight to admit of my hoping for success in any 
 quarter after positive rejection." 
 
 The Chevalier was silent for a moment, looking steadily at them 
 both, and then said, " Upon my word, Mr. Waverley, you are a 
 less happy man than I conceived I had very good reason to beUeve 
 you. But nov/, gentlemen, allow me to be umpire in this matter, 
 not as Prince Regent, but as Charles Stuart, a brother adventurer 
 with you in the same gallant cause. Lay my pretensions to be 
 obeyed by you entirely out of view, and consider your own honour, 
 and how far it is well, or becoming, to give our enemies the 
 advantage, and our friends the scandal, of showing that, few as we 
 are, we are not united. And forgive me if I add, that the names of 
 the ladies who have been mentioned, crave more respect from us, 
 all than to be made themes of discord." 
 
 He took Fergus a little apart, and spoke to him very earnestly 
 for two or three minutes, and then returning to Waverley, said, 
 
WAVERLEY. 325 
 
 • 1 believe I have satisfied Colonel Mac-Ivor that his resentment 
 was founded upon a misconception, to which, indeed, I myself gave 
 rise; and I trust Mr. Waverley is too generous to harbour any 
 recollection of what is past, when I assure him that such is the 
 case.— You must state this matter properly to your clan, Vich Ian 
 Vohr, to prevent a recurrence of their precipitate violence." Fergus 
 bowed. "And now, gentlemen, let me have the pleasure to see 
 you shake hands." 
 
 They advanced coldly, and with measured steps, each apparently 
 reluctant to appear most forward in concession. They did, however, 
 shake hands, and parted, taking a respectful leave of the Chevalier. 
 
 ^ Charles Edward* then rode to the head of the Mac-Ivors, threw 
 himself from his horse, begged a drink out of old Ballenkeiroch's 
 cantine, and marched about half a mile along with them, inquiring 
 into the history and connexions of SUochd nan Ivor, adroitly using 
 the few words of Gaelic he possessed, and affecting a great desire 
 to learn it more thoroughly. He then mounted his horse once 
 more, and galloped to the Baron's cavalry, which was in front; 
 halted them, and examined their accoutrements and state of dis- 
 cipline; took notice of the principal gentlemen, and even of the 
 cadets; inquired after their ladies, and commended their horses; 
 rode about an hour with the Baron of Bradwardine, and endured 
 three long stories about Field-Marshal the Duke of Berv/ick. 
 
 "Ah, Beaujeu, mon cher ami," said he as he returned to his 
 usual place in the hne of march, "que mon metier de prince 
 errant est ennuyant, par fois. Mais, courage ! c'est le grand j'eu, 
 apr^s tout." 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 A SKIRMISH. 
 
 The reader need hardly be reminded, that, after a council of 
 war held at Derby on the Sth of December, the Highlanders 
 relinquished their desperate attempt to penetrate farther into 
 England, and, greatly to the dissatisfaction of their young and 
 daring leader, positively determined to return northward. They 
 commenced their retreat accordingly, and by the extreme celerity 
 of their movements, outstripped the motions of the Duke of Cum- 
 berland, who now pursued them with a very large body of cavalry,. 
 
 This retreat was a virtual resignation of their towering hopes. 
 None had been so sanguine as Fergus Mac-Ivor; none, conse- 
 quently, was so cruelly mortified at the change of measures. He 
 argued, or rather remonstrated, with the utmost vehemence at the 
 
326 WAVERLEY. 
 
 council of war; and, when his opinion was rejected, shed tears ot 
 grief and indignation. From that moment his whole manner was 
 so much altered, that he could scarcely have been recognised for 
 the same soaring and ardent spirit, for whom the whole earth 
 seemed too narrow but a week before. The retreat had continued 
 for several days, when Edward, to his surprise, early on the 12th 
 of December, received a visit from the Chieftain in his quartei's, in 
 a hamlet about half way between Shap and Penrith. 
 
 Having had no intercourse with the Chieftain since their rupture, 
 Edward waited with some anxiety an explanation of this un- 
 expected visit ; nor could he help being surprised, and somewhat 
 shocked, with the change in his appearance. His eye had lost 
 much of its fire ; his cheek was hollow, his voice was languid ; 
 even his gait seemed less firm and elastic than it was wont ; and 
 his dress, to which he used to be particularly attentive, was now 
 carelessly flung about him. He invited Edward to walk out with 
 "him by the little river in the vicinity; and smiled in a melancholy 
 manner when he observed him take down and buckle on his 
 sword. 
 
 As soon as they were in a wild sequestered path by the side of 
 the stream, the Chief broke out, — " Our fine adventure is now 
 totally ruined, Waverley, and I wish to know what you intend to 
 do : — nay, never stare at me, man. I tell you I received a packet 
 from my sister yesterday, and, had I got the information it con- 
 tains sooner, it would have prevented a quari'el, which I am 
 always vexed when I think of. In a letter written after our 
 dispute, I acquainted her with the cause of it ; and she now replies 
 to me, that she never had, nor could have, any purpose of giving 
 you encouragement ; so that it seems I have acted like a madman. 
 — Poor Flora! she writes in high spirits;— what a change will the 
 news of this unhappy retreat make in her state of mind!" 
 
 Waverley, who was really much affected by the deep tone of 
 melancholy with which Fergus spoke, affectionately entreated him to 
 banish from his remembrance any unkindness which had arisen 
 between them, and they once more shook hands, but now with 
 sincere cordiality. Fergus again inquired of Waverley what he 
 intended to do. " Had you not better leave this luckless army, 
 and get down before us into Scotland, and embark for the Conti- 
 nent from some of the eastern ports that are still in our possession? 
 When you are out of the kingdom, your friends will easily nego- 
 tiate your pardon ; and, to tell you the truth, I wish you would 
 carry Rose Bradwardine with you as your wife, and take Flora also 
 under your joint protection."— Edward looked surprised—" She 
 loves you, and I believe you love her, though, perhaps, you have 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 327 
 
 not found it out, for you are not celebrated for knowing your own 
 mind very pointedly." He said this with a sort of smile. 
 
 " How !" answered Edward, " can you advise me to desert the 
 expedition in which we are all embarked ? " 
 
 " Embarked ? " said Fergus ; " the vessel is going to pieces, and 
 it is full time for all who can, to get into the long-boat and leave 
 her." 
 
 "Why, what will other gentlemen do?" answered Waverley, 
 "and why did the Highland Chiefs consent to this retreat, if it is so 
 ruinous ? " 
 
 " O," replied Mac-Ivor, " they think that, as on former occasions, 
 the heading, hanging, and forfeiting, will chiefly faU to the lot of the 
 Lowland gentry ; that they will be left secure in their poverty and 
 their fastnesses, there, according to their proverb, ' to listen to the 
 wind upon the hill till the waters abate.' But they will be disap- 
 pointed ; they have been too often troublesome to be so repeatedly 
 passed over, and this time John BuU has been too heartily fright- 
 ened to recover his good-humour for some time. The Hanoverian 
 ministers always deserved to be hanged for rascals ; but now, if 
 they get the power in their hands, — as, sooner or later, they must, 
 since there is neither rising in England nor assistance from France, 
 — they wiU deserve the gaUows as fools, if they leave a single clan in 
 the Highlands in a situation to be again troublesome to Govern- 
 ment. Ay, they will make root-and-branch-work, I warrant them." 
 
 " And while you recommend flight to me," said Edward, — " a 
 counsel which I would rather die than embrace, — what are your 
 own views ? " 
 
 " O," answered Fergus, with a melancholy air, " my fate is settled. 
 Dead or captive I must be before to-morrow." 
 
 " What do you mean by that, my friend .'' " said Edward. " The 
 enemy is still a day's march in our rear, and if he comes up, we are 
 still strong enough to keep him in check. Remember Gladsmuir." 
 
 " What I tell you is true notwithstanding, so far as I am indivi- 
 dually concerned." 
 
 " Upon what authority can you found so melancholy a predic- 
 tion ? " asked Waverley. 
 
 " On one which never failed a person of my house. I have seen," 
 he said, lowering his voice, " I have seen the Bodach Glas." 
 
 " Bodach Glas ? " 
 
 "Yes : Have you been so long at Glennaquoich, and never heard 
 of the Grey Spectre ? though indeed there is a certain reluctance 
 among us to mention him." 
 
 " No, never." 
 
 " Ah ! it would have been a tale for poor Flora to have told you. 
 
328 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Or, if that hill were Benmore, and that long blue lake, which you 
 see just winding towards yon mountainous country, were Loch Tay, 
 or my own Loch an Ri, the tale would be better suited with scenery. 
 However, let us sit down on this knoll ; even Saddleback and Uls- 
 water will suit what I have to say better than the English hedge- 
 rows, enclosures, and farm-houses. You must know, then, that 
 when my ancestor, Ian nan Chaistel, wasted Northumberland, 
 there was associated with him in the expedition a sort of Southland 
 Chief, or captain of a band of Lowlanders, called Halbert Hall. In 
 their return through the Cheviots, they quarrelled about the division 
 of the great booty they had acquired, and came from words to 
 blows. The Lowlanders were cut off to a man, and their chief feU 
 the last, covered with wounds by the sword of my ancestor. Since 
 that time, his spirit has crossed the Vich Ian Vohr of the day when 
 any great disaster was impending, but especially before approaching 
 death. My father saw him twice ; once before -he was made pri- 
 soner at Sheriff-Muir ; another time, on the morning of the day on 
 which he died." 
 
 " How can you, my dear Fergus, tell such nonsense with a grave 
 face?" 
 
 " I do not ask you to believe it ; but I tell you the truth, ascer- 
 tained by three hundred years' experience at least, and last night by 
 my own eyes." 
 
 " The particulars, for heaven's sake ! " said Waverley, with 
 eagerness. 
 
 " I will, on condition you will not attempt a jest on the subject. — 
 Since this unhappy retreat commenced, I have scarce ever been 
 able to sleep for thinking of my clan, and of this poor Prince, whom 
 they are leading back like a dog in, a string, whether he will or no, 
 and of the downfall of my family. Last night I felt so feverish 
 that I left my quarters, and walked out, in hopes the keen frosty air 
 
 would brace my nerves 1 cannot tell how much I dislike going 
 
 on, for I know you wiU hardly believe me. However — I crossed a 
 small footbridge, and kept walking backwards and forwards, when 
 I observed with surprise, by the clear moonlight, a tall figure iflr a 
 grey plaid, such as shepherds wear in the South of Scotland, which, 
 move at what pace I would, kept regularly about four yards before 
 me." 
 
 " You saw a Cumberland peasant in his ordinary dress, pro- 
 bably." 
 
 " No : I thought, so at first, and was astonished at the man's 
 audacity in daring to dog me. I called to him, but received no 
 answer. I felt an anxious throbbing at my heart ; and to ascertain 
 what I dreaded, I stood still, and turned myself on the same spof 
 
WAVERLEY. 329 
 
 successively to the four points of the compass.— By Heaven, 
 Edward, turn where I would, the figure was instantly before my 
 eyes, at precisely the same distance ! I was then convinced it was 
 the Bodach Glas. My hair bristled, and my knees shook. I 
 manned myself, however, and determined to return to my quarters. 
 My ghastly visitant glided before me (for I cannot say he walked), 
 until he reached the foot-bridge : there he stopped, and turned full 
 round. I must either wade the river, or pass him as close as I am 
 to you. A desperate courage, founded on the belief that my death 
 was near, made me resolve to make my way in despite of him. I 
 made the sign of the cross, drew my sword, and uttered ' In the 
 name of God, Evil Spirit, give place ! ' ' Vich Ian Vohr,' it said, in 
 a voice that made my very blood curdle, ' beware of to-morrow ! ' 
 It seemed at that moment not half a yard from my sword's point ; 
 but the words were no sooner spoken than it was gone, and nothing 
 appeared further to obstruct my passage. I got home, and threw 
 myself on my bed, where I spent a few hours heavily enough ; 
 and this morning, as no enemy was reported to be near us, I took 
 my horse, and rode forward to make up matters with you. I would 
 not willingly fall until I am in charity with a wronged friend." 
 
 Edward had little doubt that this phantom was the operation of 
 an exhausted frame and depressed spirits, working on the belief 
 common to all Highlanders in such superstitions. He did not the 
 less pity Fergus, for whom, in his present distress, he felt all his 
 former regard revive. With the view of diverting his mind from 
 these gloomy images, he offered, with the Baron's permission, which 
 he knew he could readily obtain, to remain in his quarters till 
 Fergus's corps should come up, and then to march with them as 
 usual. The Chief seemed much pleased, yet hesitated to accept 
 the offer. 
 
 " We are, you know, in the rear, — the post of danger in a re- 
 treat." 
 
 " And therefore the post of honour." 
 
 "Well," replied the Chieftain, "let Alick have your horse in 
 readiness, in case we should be over-matched, and I shall be 
 delighted to have your company once more." 
 
 The rear-guard were late in making their appearance, having 
 been delayed by various accidents, and by the badness of the roads. 
 At length they entered the hamlet. When Waverley joined the clan 
 Mac-Ivor, arm-in-arm with their Chieftain, all the resentment they' 
 had entertained against him seemed blown off at once. Evan Dhu 
 received him with a grin of congratulation ; and even Callum, who 
 was running about as active as ever, pale indeed, and with a great 
 patch on his head, appeared delighted to see him. 
 
330 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " That gallows-bird's skuU," said Fergus, " must be harder than 
 marble : the lock of the pistol was actually broken." 
 
 " How could you strike so young a lad so hard ? " said Waverley, 
 with some interest. 
 
 " Why, if 1 did not strike hard sometimes, the rascals would forget 
 themselves." 
 
 They were now in full march, every caution being taken to pre- 
 vent surprise. Fergus's people, and a fine clan regiment from 
 Badenoch, commanded by Cluny Mac-Pherson, had the rear. They 
 had passed a large open moor, and were entering into the enclo- 
 sures which surround a small village called Clifton. The winter 
 sun had set, and Edward began to rally Fergus upon the false pre- 
 dictions of the Grey Spirit. " The ides of March are not past," 
 said Mac-Ivor, with a smile ; when, suddenly casting his eyes back 
 on the moor, a large body of cavalry was indistinctly seen to hover 
 upon its brown and dark surface. To line the enclosures facing the 
 open ground, and the road by which the enemy must move from it 
 upon the village, was the work of a short time. While these 
 manceuvres were acciHnplishing, night sunk down, dark and gloomy, 
 though the moon was at full. Sometimes, however, she gleamed 
 forth a dubious light upon the scene of action. 
 
 The Highlanders did not long remain undisturbed in the defen- 
 sive position they had adopted. Favoured by the night, one large 
 body of dismounted dragoons attempted to force the enclosures, 
 while another, equally strong, strove to penetrate by the high road. 
 Both were received by such a heavy fire as disconcerted their ranks, 
 and effectually checked their progress. Unsatisfied with the ad- 
 vantage thus gained, Fergus, to whose ardent spirit the approach 
 of danger seemed to restore all its elasticity, drawing his sword, 
 and caUing out " Claymore \" encouraged his men, by voice and 
 example, to break through the hedge which divided them, and rush 
 down upon the enemy. Mingling with the dismounted dragoons, 
 they forced them, at the sword-point, to fly to the open moor, 
 where a considerable number were cut to pieces. But the moon, 
 which suddenly shone out, showed to the English the small number 
 of assailants, disordered by their own success. Two squadrons of 
 horse moving to the support of their companions, the Highlanders 
 endeavoured to recover the enclosures. But several of them, 
 amongst others their brave Chieftain, were cut off and surrounded 
 before they could effect their purpose. Waverley, looking -eagerly 
 for Fergus, from whom, as well as from the retreating body of his 
 followers, he had been separated in the darkness and tumult, saw 
 him, with Evan Dhu and Callum, defending themselves desperately 
 against a dozen of horsemen, who were hewing at them with their 
 
WAVERLEY. 331 
 
 long broadswords. The moon was again at that moment totally 
 overclouded, and Edward, in the obscurity, could neither bring aid 
 to his friends, nor discover which way lay his own road to rejoin the 
 rear-guard. After once or twice narrowly escaping being slain or 
 made prisoner by parties of the cavalry whom he encountered in the 
 darkness, he at length reached an enclosure, and, clambering over 
 it, concluded himself in safety, and on the way to the Highland 
 forces, whose pipes he heard at some distance. For Fergus hardly 
 a hope remained, unless that he might be made prisoner. 
 Revolving his fate with sorrow and anxiety, the superstition of 
 the Bodach Glas recurred to Edward's recollection, and he said to 
 himself, with internal surprise, "What, can the devil speak truth?"* 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 
 
 Edward was in a most unpleasant and dangerous situation. He 
 soon lost the sound of the bagpipes ; and, what was yet more 
 unpleasant, when, after searching long in vain, and scrambling 
 thi-ough many enclosures, he at length approached the high-road, 
 he learned, from the unwelcome noise of kettle-drums and trumpets, 
 that the English cavalry now occupied it, and consequently were 
 between him and the Highlanders. Precluded, therefore, from ad- 
 vancing in a straight direction, he resolved to avoid the English mili- 
 taiy, and endeavour to join his friends by making a circuit to the 
 left, for which a beaten path, deviating from the main road in that 
 direction, seemed to afford facilities. The path was muddy, and 
 the night dark and cold ; but even these inconveniences were hardly 
 felt amidst the apprehensions which falling into the hands of the 
 King's forces reasonably excited in his bosom. 
 
 After walking about three miles, he at length reached a hamlet. 
 Conscious that the common people were in general unfavourable to 
 the cause he had espoused, yet desirous, if possible, to procure a 
 horse and guide to Penrith, where he hoped to find the rear, if not 
 the main body, of the Chevalier's army, he approached the ale- 
 house of the place. There was a great noise within ; he paused tc 
 listen. A round English oath or two, and the burden of a campaign 
 song, convinced him the hamlet also was occupied by the Duke of 
 Cumberland's soldiers. Endeavouring to retire from it as softly as 
 possible, and blessing the obscurity which hitherto he had mur- 
 mured against, Waverley groped his way the best he could along a 
 small paling, which seemed the boundary of some cottage garden. 
 As he reached the gate of this little enclosure, his out-stretched 
 
333 WAVERLEY. 
 
 hand was grasped by that of a female, whose voice at the same time 
 uttered, " Edward, is't thou, man ? " 
 
 " Here is some unlucky mistake," thought Edward, struggling, 
 but gently, to disengage himself 
 
 " Naen o' thy foun, now, man, or the red cwoats will hear thee ; 
 they hae been houlerying and poulerying every ane that past ale- 
 house door this noight to make them drive their waggons and sick 
 loike. Come into feyther's, or they'll do ho a mischief." 
 
 " A good hint," thought Waverley, following the girl through the 
 little garden into a brick-paved kitchen, where she set herself to 
 kindle a match at an expiring fire, and with the match to light a 
 candle. She had no sooner looked on Edward, than she dropped 
 the light, with a shrill scream of " O feyther ! feyther ! " 
 
 The father, thus invoked, speedily appeared, — a sturdy old 
 farmer, in a pair of leather breeches, and boots pulled on without 
 stockings, having just started from his bed ; the rest of his dress 
 was only a Westmoreland stateman's robe-de-chambre, — that is, 
 his shirt. His figure was displayed to advantage, by a candle which 
 he bore in his left hand ; in his right he brandished a poker. 
 
 " What hast ho here, wench ?" 
 
 " O ! " cried the poor girl, almost going off in hysterics, " I 
 thought it was Ned Williams, and it is one of the plaid-men." 
 
 " And what was thee ganging to do wi' Ned Williams at this 
 time o' noight ? " To this, which was, perhaps, one of the numerous 
 class of questions more easily asked than answered, the rosy- 
 cheeked damsel made no reply, but continued sobbing and wring- 
 ing her hands. 
 
 " And thee, lad, dost ho know that the dragoons be a town .'' 
 dost ho know that, mon ? ad, they'll sliver thee loike a turnip, mon." 
 
 " I know my life is in great danger," said Waverley, " but if you 
 can assist me, I will reward you handsomely. I am no Scotch- 
 man, but an unfortunate English gentleman." 
 
 " Be ho Scot or no," said the honest farmer, " I wish thou hadst 
 kept the other side of the hallan. But since thou art here, Jacob 
 Jopson will betray no man's bluid ; and the plaids were gay canny, 
 and did not do so much mischief when they were here yesterday." 
 Accordingly, he set seriously about sheltering and refreshing our 
 hero for the night. The fire was speedily rekindled, but with pre- 
 caution against its light being seen from without. The jolly yeo- 
 man cut a i-asher of bacon, which Cicely soon broiled, and her 
 father added a swingeing tankard of his best ale. It was settled, 
 that Edward should remain there till the troops marched in the 
 morning, then hire or buy a horse from the farmer, and, with the 
 best directions that could be obtained, endeavour to overtake his 
 
WAVERLEy. 333 
 
 friends. A clean, though coarse bed, received him after the fatigues 
 of this unhappy day. 
 
 With the morning arrived the nev?s that the Highlanders had 
 evacuated Penrith, and marched off towards Carlisle ; that the Duke 
 of Cumberland was in possession of Penrith, and that detachments 
 of his army covered the roads in every direction. To attempt to 
 get through undiscovered, would be an act of the most frantic 
 temerity. Ned WiUiams (the right Edwai-d) was now called to 
 council by Cicely and her father. Ned, who perhaps did not care 
 that his handsome namesake should remain too long in the same 
 house with his sweetheart, for fear of fresh mistakes, proposed that 
 Waverley, exchanging his uniform and plaid for the dress of the 
 country, should go with him to his father's farm near Ulswater, 
 and remain in that undisturbed retirement until the military move- 
 ments in the country should have ceased to render his departure 
 hazardous. A piice was also agreed upon, at which the stranger 
 might board with Farmer WiUiams, if he thought proper, till he 
 could depart with safety. It was of moderate amount ; the distress 
 of his situation, among this honest and simple-hearted race, being 
 considered as no reason for increasing their demand. 
 
 The necessary articles of dress were accordingly procured, and, 
 by following by-paths, known to the young farmer, they hoped to 
 escape any unpleasant rencontre. A recompense for their hospi- 
 tality was refused peremptorily by old Jopson and his cherry- 
 cheeked daughter ; a kiss paid the one, and a hearty shake of the 
 hand the other. Both seemed anxious for their guest's safety, and 
 took leave of him with kind wishes. 
 
 In the course of their route, Edward, with his guide, traversed 
 those fields which the night before had been the scene of action. 
 A brief gleam of December's sun shone sadly on the broad heath, 
 which, towards the spot where the great north-west road entered 
 the enclosures of Lord Lonsdale's property, exhibited dead bodies 
 of men and horses, and the usual companions of war, a number of 
 carrion-crows, hawks, and ravens. 
 
 " And this, then, was thy last field," said Waverley to himself, 
 his eye filling at the recollection of the many splendid points of 
 Fergus's character, and of their former intimacy, all his passions 
 and imperfections forgotten — " Here fell the last Vich Ian Vohr, 
 on a nameless heath ; and in an obscure night-skirmish was 
 quenched that ardent spirit, who thought it little to cut a way for 
 his master to the British throne ! Ambition, policy, bravery, all 
 far beyond their sphere, here learned the fate of mortals. The 
 sole support, too, of a sister, whose spirit, as proud and unbending, 
 was even more exalted than thine own ; here ended all thy hopes 
 
334 
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 for Flora, and the long and valued line whicli it was thy boast to 
 raise yet more highly by thy adventurous valour ! " 
 
 As these ideas pressed on Waverley^s mind, he resolved to go 
 upon the open heath, and search if, among the slain, he could dis- 
 cover the body of his friend, with the pious intention of procuring 
 for him the last rites of sepulture. The timorous young man who 
 accompanied him remonstrated upon the danger of the attempt, 
 but Edward was determined. The followers of the camp had 
 already stripped the dead of all they could carry awa^' ; but the 
 country people, unused to scenes of blood, had not yet approached 
 the field of action, though some stood fearfully gazing at a distance. 
 About sixty or seventy dragoons lay slain within the first enclosure, 
 upon the high road, and on the open moor. Of the Highlanders, 
 not above a dozen had fallen, chiefly those who, venturing too far 
 on the moor, could not regain the strong ground. He could not 
 find the body of Fergus among the slain. On a little knoll, sepa- 
 rated from the others, lay the carcasses of three English dragoons, 
 two horses, and the page Galium Beg, whose hard skull a trooper's 
 broadsword had, at length, effectually cloven. It was possible his 
 clan had carried off the body of Fergus ; but it was also possible 
 he had escaped, especially as Evan Dhu, who would never leave 
 his Chief, was not found among the dead ; or he might be prisoner, 
 and the less formidable denunciation inferred from the appearance 
 of the Bodach Glas might have proved the true one. The approach 
 of a party, sent for the purpose of compelling the country people 
 to bury the dead, and who had already assembled several peasants 
 "for that purpose, now obliged Edward to rejoin his guide, who 
 awaited him in great anxiety and fear under shade of the plan- 
 tations. 
 
 After leaving this field of death, the rest of their journey was 
 happily accomphshed. At the house of Farmer Williams, Edward 
 passed for a young kinsman, educated for the church, who was 
 come to reside there till the civil tumults permitted him to pass 
 through the country. This silenced suspicion among the kind and 
 simple yeomanry of Cumberland, and accounted sufficiently for the 
 grave manners and retired habits of the new guest. The precau- 
 tion became more necessary than Waverley had anticipated, as a 
 variety of incidents prolonged his stay at Fasthwaite, as the farm 
 was called. 
 
 A tremendous fall of snow rendered his departure impossible for 
 more than ten days. When the roads began to become a little 
 practicable, they successively received news of the retreat of the 
 Chevalier intO' Scotland ; then, that he had abandoned the frontiers, 
 retiring upon Glasgow ; and that the Duke of Cumberland had 
 
WAVERLEY. ^35 
 
 formed the siege of Carlisle. His army, therefore, cut off all pos- 
 sibility of Waverley's -escaping into Scotland in that direction. 
 On the eastern border, Marshal Wade, with a large force, was 
 advancing upon Edinburgh, and all along the frontier, parties of 
 militia, volunteers, and partisans, were in arms to suppress insur- 
 rection, and apprehend such stragglers from the Highland army as 
 had been left in England. The surrender of Carlisle, and the 
 severity with which the rebel garrison were threatened, soon formed 
 an additional reason against venturing upon a solitary and hope- 
 less journey through a hostile country and a large army, to carry 
 the assistance of a single sword to a cause which seemed altogether 
 desperate. 
 
 In this lonely and secluded situation, without the advantage of 
 company or conversation with men of cultivated minds, the argu- 
 ments of Colonel Talbot often recurred to the mind of our hero. A 
 still more anxious recollection haunted his slumbers — it was the 
 dying look and gesture of Colonel Gardiner. Most devoutly did he 
 hope, as the rarely occurring post brought news of skirmishes with 
 various success, that it might never again be his lot to draw his 
 sword in civil conflict. Then his mind turned to the supposed death 
 of Fergus, to the desolate situation of Flora, and, with yet more 
 tender recollection, to that of Rose Bradwardine, who was destitute 
 of the devoted enthusiasm of loyalty, which, to her friend, hallowed 
 and exalted misfortune. These reveries he was permitted to enjoy, 
 undisturbed by queries or interruption ; and it was in many a 
 winter walk by the shores of Ulswater, that he acquired a more 
 complete mastery of a spirit tamed by adversity, than his fonner 
 experience had given him ; and that he felt himself entitled to say 
 firmly, though perhaps with a sigh, that the romance of his life 
 was ended, and that its real history had now commenced. He 
 was soon called upon to justify his pretensions by reason and 
 philosophy. 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 A JOURNEY TO LONDON. 
 
 The family at Fasthwaite v/ere soon attached to Edward. He 
 had, indeed, that gentleness and urbanity which almost universally 
 attracts corresponding kindness ; and to their simple ideas his 
 learning gave him consequence, and his sorrows interest. The last 
 he ascribed, evasively, to the loss of a brother in the skirmish near 
 Clifton ; and in that primitive state of society, where the ties of 
 
336 WAVERLEY. 
 
 affection were highly deemed of, his continued depression e3a:ited 
 sympathy, but not surprise. 
 
 In the end of January, his more Hvely powers were called out by 
 the happy union of Edward Williams, the son of his host, with 
 Cicely J opson. Our hero would not cloud with sorrow the festivity 
 attending the wedding of two persons to whom he was so highly 
 obliged. He therefore exerted himself, danced, sung, played at 
 the various games of the day, and was the blithest of the com- 
 pany. The next morning, however, he had more serious matters 
 to think of. 
 
 The clergyman who had married the young couple was so much 
 pleased with the supposed student of divinity, that he came next 
 day from Penrith on purpose to pay him a visit. This might have 
 been a puzzling chapter had he entered into any examination of 
 our hero's supposed theological studies ; but fortunately he loved 
 better to hear and communicate the news of the day. He brought 
 with him two or three old newspapers, in one of which Edward 
 found a piece of intelligence that soon rendered him deaf to every 
 word which the Reverend Mr. Twigtythe was saying upon the news 
 from the north, and the prospect of the Duke's speedily overtaking 
 and crushing the rebels. This was an article in these, or nearly 
 these words : 
 
 " Died at his house, in Hill Street, Berkeley-Square, upon the 
 loth inst., Richard Waverley, Esq., second son of Sir Giles Waver- 
 ley of Waverley-Honour, &c. &c. He died of a lingering disorder, 
 augmented by the unpleasant predicament of suspicion in which 
 he stood, having been obliged to find bail to a high amount, to 
 meet an impending accusation of high treason. An accusation of 
 the same grave crime hangs over his elder brother. Sir Everard 
 Waverley, the representative of that ancient family ; and we under- 
 stand the day of his trial will be fixed early in the next month, un- 
 less Edward Waverley, son of the deceased Richard, and heir to 
 the Baronet, shall surrender himself to justice. In that case, we 
 are assured it is his Majesty's gracious purpose to drop further pro- 
 ceedings upon the charge against Sir Everard. This unfortunate 
 young gentleman is ascertained to have been in arms in the Pre- 
 tender's service, and to have marched along with the Highland 
 troops into England. But he has not been heard of since the skir- 
 mish at Clifton, on the i8th December last." 
 
 Such was this distracting paragraph. — " Good God ! " exclaimed 
 Waverley, " am I then a parricide ? — Impossible ! My father, who 
 never showed the affection of a father while he lived, cannot have 
 been so much affected by my supposed death as to hasten his own : 
 No, I wiU not believe it, — it were distraction to entertain for a 
 
WAVERLEY. 337 
 
 nioment such a horrible idea. But it were, if possible, worse than 
 parricide to suffer any danger to hang over my noble and generous 
 uncle, who has ever been more to me than a father, if such evil can 
 be averted by any sacrifice on my part ! " 
 
 While these reflections passed like the stings of scorpions 
 through Waverley's sensorium, the worthy divine was startled 
 in a long disquisition on the battle of Falkirk by the ghastliness 
 which they communicated to his looks, and asked him if he 
 was ill? Fortunately the bride, all smirk and blush, had just 
 entered the room. Mrs. WiUiams was none of the brightest of 
 women, but she was goodnatured, and readily concluding that 
 Edward had been shocked by disagreeable news in the papers, 
 interfered so judiciously, that, without exciting suspicion, she drew 
 off Mr. Twigtythe's attention, and engaged it until he soon after 
 took his leave. Waverley then explained to his friends, that he 
 was under the necessity of going to London with as little delay as 
 possible. 
 
 One cause of delay, however, did occur, to which Waverley had 
 been very little accustomed. His purse, though well stocked when 
 he first went to TuUy-Veolan, had not been reinforced since that 
 period ; and although his life since had not been of a nature to 
 exhaust it hastily, for he had lived chiefly with his friends or with 
 the army, yet he found, that after settling with his kind landlord, 
 he should be too poor to encounter the expense of travelling post. 
 The best course, therefore, seemed to be, to get into the great 
 north road about Borough-bridge, and there take a place in the 
 Northern Diligence, a huge old-fashioned tub, drawn by three 
 horses, which completed the journey from Edinburgh to London 
 (God willing, as the advertisement expressed it) in three weeks. 
 Our hero, therefore, took an affectionate farewell of his Cumber- 
 land friends, whose kindness he promised never to forget, and 
 tacitly hoped one day to acknowledge by substantial proofs of 
 gratitude. After some petty difficulties and vexatious delays, and 
 after putting his dress into a shape better befitting his rank, 
 though perfectly plain and simple, he accomplished crossing the 
 country, and found himself in the desired vehicle, vis-d-vis to Mrs. 
 Nosebag, the lady of Lieutenant Nosebag, adjutant and riding- 
 master of the dragoons, a joUy woman of about fifty, wearing 
 
 a blue habit, faced with scarlet, and grasping a silver-mounted 
 horse-whip. 
 
 This lady was one of those active members of society who take 
 upon them /aire la/raise de conversation. She had just returned 
 from the north, and informed Edward how nearly her regiment 
 had cut the petticoat people into ribands at Falkirk, " only some- 
 
 Y 
 
538 
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 how there was one of those nasty, awkward marshes, that they are 
 never without in Scotland, I think, and so our poor dear little regi- 
 ment suffered something, as my Nosebag says, in that unsatis- 
 factory affair. You, sir, have served in the dragoons ?" Waverley 
 was taken so much at unawares, that he acquiesced. 
 
 " O, I knew it at once ; I saw you were military from your air, 
 and I Tvas sure you could be none of the foot-wobblers, as my 
 Nosebag calls them. What regiment, pray?" Here was a delight- 
 ful question. Waverley, however, justly concluded that this good 
 lady had the whole army-list by heart ; and, to avoid detection by 
 adhering to truth, answered, " Gardiner's dragoons, ma'am ; but I 
 have retired some time." 
 
 " O aye, those as won the race at the battle of Preston, as my 
 Nosebag says. Pray, sir, were you there ?" 
 
 " I was so unfortunate, madam," he replied, " as to witness that 
 engagement." 
 
 "And that was a misfortune that few of Gardiner's stood to 
 witness, I believe, sir — ^ha ! ha ! ha ! I beg your pardon ; but a 
 soldier's wife loves a joke." 
 
 " Devil confound you 1" thought Waverley ; " what infernal luck 
 has penned me up with this inquisitive hag ! " 
 
 Fortunately the good lady did not stick long to one subject. 
 " We are coming to Ferrybridge, now," she said, " where there was 
 a party of ours left to support the beadles, and constables, and 
 justices, and these sort of creatures that are examining papers and 
 stopping rebels, and all that." . They were hardly in the inn before 
 she dragged Waverley to the window, exclaiming, " Yonder comes 
 Corporal Bridoon, of our poor dear troop ; he's coming with the 
 constable man : Bridoon's one of my lambs, as Nosebag calls 'em. 
 Come, Mr. a — a, — pray, what's your name, sir?" 
 
 " Butler, ma'am," said Waverley, resolved rather to make free 
 with the -name of a former fellow-officer, than run the risk of 
 detection by inventing one not to be found in the regiment. 
 
 " O, you got a troop lately, when that shabby fellow, Waverley, 
 went over to the rebels. Lord, I wish our old cross Captain 
 Crump would go over to the rebels, that Nosebag might get the 
 troop ! — Lord, what can Bridoon be standing swinging on the 
 bridge for ? I'll be hanged if he a'nt hazy, as Nosebag says — 
 Come, sir, as you and I belong to the service, we'll go put the 
 rascal in mind of his duty." 
 
 Waverley, with feelings more easily conceived than described, 
 saw himself obliged to follow this doughty female commander. 
 The gallant trooper was as like a lamb as a drunk corporal of 
 dragoons, about six feet high, with very broad shoulders, and very 
 
WAVERLEY. 33g 
 
 thin legs, not to mention a great scar across his nose, could well 
 be. Mrs. Nosebag addressed him with something which, if not an 
 oath, sounded very like one, and commanded him to attend to his 
 
 duty. " You be d— d for a •," commenced the gallant cavalier ; 
 
 but, looking up in order to suit the action to the words, and also to 
 enforce the epithet which he meditated, with an adjective applic- 
 able to the party, he recognised the speaker, made his military 
 salaam, and altered his tone. — " Lord love your handsome face. 
 Madam Nosebag, is it you .'' Why, if a poor fellow does happen to 
 fire a slug of a morning, I am sure you were never the lady to 
 bring him to harm." 
 
 " Well, you rapscallion, go, mind your duty ; this gentleman and 
 I belong to the service ; but be sure you look after that shy cock in 
 the slouched hat that sits in the corner of the coach. I believe 
 he's one of the rebels in disguise." 
 
 "D — n her gooseberry wig !" said the corporal, when she was 
 out of hearing. " That gimlet-eyed jade — mother adjutant, as we 
 call her — is a greater plague to the regiment than prevot-marshal, 
 sergeant-major, and old Hubble-de-Shufif the colonel into the 
 bargain. — Come, Master Constable, let's see if this shy cock, as 
 she calls him (who, by the way, was a Quaker from Leeds, with 
 whom Mrs. Nosebag had had some tart argument 'on the legality 
 of bearing arms), will stand godfather to a sup of brandy, for your 
 Yorkshire ale is cold on my stomach." 
 
 The vivacity of this good lady, as it helped Edward out of this 
 scrape, was hke to have drawn him into one or two others. In 
 every town where they stopped, she wished to examine the corps 
 de garde, if there was one, and once very narrowly missed intro- 
 ducing Waverley to a recruiting-sergeant of his own regiment. 
 Then she Captain'd and Butler'd him till he was almost mad with 
 vexation and anxiety ; and never was he more rejoiced in his life 
 at the termination of a journey, than when the arrival of the coach 
 in London freed him from the attentions of Madam Nosebag. 
 
 CHAPTER LXII. 
 
 what's to be done next? 
 
 It was twilight when they arrived in town ; and having shaken 
 off his companions, and walked through a good many streets to 
 avoid the possibility of being traced by them, Edward took a 
 hackney-coach and drove to Colonel Talbot's house, in one of the 
 principal squares at the west end of the town. That gentleman, 
 by the death of relations, had succeeded since his marriage to a 
 
 y 2 
 
340 
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 large fortune, possessed considerable political interest, and lived in 
 what is called great style. 
 
 When Waverley knocked at his door, he found it at first difficult 
 to procure admittance, but at length was shown into an apartment 
 where the Colonel was at table. Lady Emily, whose very beautiful 
 features were stiU pallid from indisposition, sate opposite to him. 
 The instant he heard Waverley's voice, he started up and embraced 
 him. "Frank Stanley, my dear boy, how d'ye do? — Emily, my 
 love, this is young Stanley." 
 
 The blood started to the ladjf's cheek as she gave Waverley a 
 reception, in which courtesy was mingled with kindness, while her 
 trembling hand and faltering voice showed how much she was 
 startled and discomposed. Dinner was hastily replaced, and 
 while Waverley was engaged in refreshing himself, the Colonel 
 proceeded — " I wonder you have come here, Frank ; the Doctors 
 tell me the air of London is very bad for your complaints. You 
 should not have risked it. But I am delighted to see you, and so 
 is Emily, though I fear we must not reckon upon your staying 
 long." 
 
 " Some particular business brought me up," muttered Waverley. 
 
 " I supposed so, but I sha'nt allow you to stay long. — Spontoon " 
 (to an elderly' military-looking servant out of livery), "take away 
 these things, and answer the beU yourself, if I ring. Don't let any 
 of the other fellows disturb us — My nephew and I have business to 
 talk of" 
 
 When the servants had retired, " In the name of God, Waverley, 
 what has brought you here ? It may be as much as your life is 
 worth." 
 
 " Dear Mr. Waverley," said Lady Emily, " to whom I owe so 
 much more than acknowledgments can ever pay, how could you 
 be so rash ?" 
 
 " My father — my uncle — this paragraph," — ^he handed the paper 
 to Colonel Talbot 
 
 " I wish to Heaven these scoundrels were condemned to be 
 squeezed to death in their own presses," said Talbot. " I am told 
 there are not less than a dozen of their papers now published in 
 town, and no wonder that they are obliged to invent lies to find 
 sale for their journals. It is true, however, my dear Edward, that 
 you have lost your father ; but as to this flourish of his unpleasant 
 situation having grated upon his spirits, and hurt his health — the 
 truth is — for though it is harsh to say so now, yet it will relieve 
 your mind from the idea of weighty responsibility — the truth then 
 is, that Mr. Richard Waverley, through this whole business, showed 
 great want of sensibility, both to your situation and that of your 
 
WAVERLEY. 341 
 
 uncle ; and the last time I saw him, he told me, witll great glee, 
 that as I was so good as to take charge of your interests, he had 
 thought it best to patch up a separate negotiation for himself, and 
 make his peace with Government through some channels which 
 former connexions left still open to him." 
 
 " And my uncle, my dear uncle ? " 
 
 " Is in no danger whatever. It is true (looking at the date of 
 the paper) there was a foolish report some time ago to the purport 
 here quoted, but it is entirely false. Sir Everard is gone down to 
 Wavei'ley-Honour, freed from all uneasiness, unless upon your own 
 account. But you are in peril yourself — your name is in every 
 proclamation — warrants are out to apprehend you. How and 
 when did you come here ?" 
 
 Edward told his story at length, suppressing his quarrel with 
 Fergus ; for, being himself partial to Highlanders, he did not wish 
 to give any advantage to the Colonel's national prejudice against 
 them. 
 
 "Are you sure it was your friend Glen's footboy you saw dead in 
 Clifton Moor ?" 
 
 " Quite positive." 
 
 " Then that little limb of the devil has cheated the gallows, for 
 cut-throat was written in his face ; though " (turning to Lady 
 Emily) " it was a very handsome face too. — But for you, Edward, 
 I wish you would go down again to Cumberland, or rather I wish 
 you had never stirred from thence, for there is an embargo on all 
 the seaports, and a strict search for the adherents of the Pretender ; 
 and the tongue of that confounded woman will wag in her head 
 like the clack of a mill, till somehow or other she will detect 
 Captain Butler to be a feigned personage." 
 
 "Do you know anything," asked Waverley, "of my fellow- 
 traveller?" 
 
 " Her husband was my sergeant-major for six years ; she was a 
 buxom widow, with a little money- — ^he married her — was steady, 
 and got on by being a good drill. I must send Spontoon to see 
 what she is about ; he wiU find her out among the old regimental 
 connexions. To-morrow you must be indisposed, and keep your 
 room from fatigue. Lady Emily is to be your nurse, and Spontoon 
 and I your attendants. You bear the name of a near relation of 
 mine, whom none of my present people ever saw, except Spontoon, 
 so there will be no immediate danger. So pray feel your head 
 ache and your eyes grow heavy as soon as possible, that you may 
 be put upon the sick list ; and, Emily, do you order an apartment 
 for Frank Stanley, with all the attention which an invalid may 
 require." 
 
342 WAVERLEY. 
 
 In the morning the Colonel visited his guest. 
 
 " Now," said he, " I have some good news for you. Your repu- 
 tation as a gentleman and officer is effectually cleared of neglect of 
 duty, and accession to the mutiny in Gardiner's regiment. I have 
 had a correspondence on this subject with a very zealous friend of 
 yours, your Scottish parson, Morton ; his first letter was addressed 
 to Sir Everard ; but I relieved the good Baronet of the trouble of 
 answering it. You must know, that your free-booting acquaintance, 
 Donald of the Cave, has at length fallen into the hands of the 
 Philistines. He was driving off the cattle of a certain proprietor, 
 called Killan — something or other " 
 
 " KiUancureit ? " 
 
 " The same — now the gentleman being, it seems, a great fanner, 
 a,nd having a special value for his breed of cattle, being, moreover, 
 rather of a timid disposition, had got a party of soldiers to protect 
 his property. So Donald run his head unawares into the lion's 
 mouth, and was defeated and made prisoner. Being ordered for 
 execution, his conscience was assailed on the one hand by a Catholic 
 priest, on the other by your friend Morton. He repulsed the 
 Catholic chiefly on account of the doctrine of extreme unction, 
 which this economical gentleman considered as an excessive waste 
 of oil. So his conversion from a state of impenitence fell to Mr. 
 Morton's share, who, I dare say, acquitted himself excellently, 
 though, I suppose, Donald made but a queer kind of Christian after 
 all. He confessed, however, before a magistrate, one Major Mel- 
 ville, who seems to have been a correct, friendly sort of person, his 
 full intrigue with Houghton, explaining particularly how it was 
 carried on, and fully acquitting you of the least accession to it. He 
 also mentioned his rescuing you from the hands of the volunteer 
 officer, and sending you, by orders of the Pret — Chevalier, I mean 
 — as a prisoner to Doune, from whence he understood you were 
 carried prisoner to Edinburgh. These are particulars which cannot 
 but tell in your favour. He hinted that he had been employed to 
 deliver and protect you, and rewarded for doing so ; but he would 
 not confess by whom, alleging, that though he would not have 
 minded breaking any ordinary oath to satisfy the curiosity of Mr. 
 Morton, to whose pious admonitions he owed so much, yet, in the 
 present case, he had been sworn to silence upon the edge of his 
 dirk,* which, it seems, constituted, in his opinion, an inviolable 
 obligation." 
 
 " And what has become of him ? " 
 
 " Oh, he was hanged at Stirling after the rebels raised the siege, 
 with his lieutenant, and four plaids besides ; he having the advan- 
 tage of a gallows more lofty than his friends." 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 343 
 
 " Well, I have little cause either to regret or rejoice at his death ; 
 and yet he has done me both good and harm to a verj- considerable 
 extent." 
 
 " His confession, at least, will serve you materially, since it 
 wipes from your character all those suspicions which gave the 
 accusation against you a complexion of a nature different from that 
 with which so many unfortunate gentlemen, now, or lately, in arms 
 against the Government, may be justly charged. Their treason — 
 I must give it its name, though you participate in its guilt — is an 
 action arising from mistaken virtue, and therefore cannot be classed 
 as a disgrace, though it be doubtless highly criminal. M^'here the 
 guilty are so numerous, clemency must be extended to far the 
 greater number ; and I have little doubt of procuring a remission 
 for you, provided we can keep you out of the claws of justice till she 
 has selected and gorged upon her victims ; for in this as in other 
 cases, it will be according to the vulgar proverb, ' First come, first 
 served.' Besides, Government are desirous at present to intimidate 
 the English Jacobites, among whom they can find few examples for 
 punishment. This is a vindictive and timid feeling which wiU soon 
 wear off, for, of all nations, the English are least blood-thirsty by 
 nature. But it exists at present, and you must therefore be kept 
 out of the way in the mean time." 
 
 Now entered Spontoon with an anxious countenance. By his 
 I'egimental acquaintances he had traced out Madam Nosebag, and 
 found her full of ire, fuss, and fidget, at discovery of an impostor, 
 who had ti-avelled from the north with her under the assumed name 
 of Captain Butler of Gardiner's dragoons. She was going to lodge 
 an information on the subject, to have him sought for as an emis- 
 sary of the Pretender ; but Spontoon (an old soldier), while he 
 pretended to approve, contrived to make her delay her intention. 
 No time, however, was to be lost : the accuracy of this good dame's 
 description might probably lead to the discovery that Waverley was 
 the pretended Captain Butler; an identification fraught with 
 danger to Edward, perhaps to his uncle, and even to Colonel 
 Talbot. Which way to direct his course was now, therefore, the 
 question. 
 
 " To Scotland," said Waverley. 
 
 " To Scotland ! " said the Colonel ; " with what purpose ? not to 
 engage again with the rebels, I hope ? " 
 
 " No — I considered my campaign ended, when, after all my 
 efforts, I could not rejoin them ; and now, by all accounts, they are 
 gone to make a winter campaign in the Highlands, where such 
 adherents as I am would rather be burdensome than useful. 
 Indeed, it seems likely that they only prolong the war to place 
 
344 WAVERLEY. 
 
 the Chevalier's person out of danger, and then to make some terms 
 for themselves. To burden them with my presence would merely 
 add another party, whom they would not give up, and could not 
 defend. I understand they left almost all their English adherents 
 in garrison at Carlisle, for that very reason : — and on a more 
 general view. Colonel, to confess the truth, though it-may lower me 
 in your opinion, I am heartily tired of the trade of war, and am, 
 as Fletcher's Humorous Lieutenant says, ' even as weary of this 
 fighting ' " — 
 
 " Fighting ! pooh, what have you seen but a skirmish or two ? — 
 Ah ! if you saw war on the grand scale — sixty or a hundred thou- 
 sand men in the field on each side ! " 
 
 " I am not at all curious. Colonel — Enough, says our homely 
 proverb, is as good as a feast. The plumed troops and the big war 
 used to enchant me in poetry ; but the night marches, vigils, 
 couched under the wintry sky, and such accompaniments of the 
 glorious trade, are not at all to my taste in practice : — then for dry 
 blows, I had my fill of fighting at Clifton, where I escaped by a 
 
 hair's-breadth half a dozen times ; and you, I should think" 
 
 He stopped. 
 
 " Had enough of it at Preston ? you mean to say,'' answered the 
 Colonel, laughing ; " but 'tis my vocation, Hal." 
 
 " It is not mine though," said Waverley ; " and having honour- 
 ably got rid of the sword, which I drew only as a volunteer, I am 
 quite satisfied with my military experience, and shall be in no hurry- 
 to take it up again." 
 
 " I am very glad you are of that mind — but then what would you 
 do in the north ? " 
 
 " In the first place, there are some seaports on the eastern coast 
 of Scotland still in the hands of the Chevalier's friends ; should I 
 gain any of them, I can easily embark for the Continent." 
 
 " Good — your second reason?" 
 
 "Why, to speak the very truth, there is a person in Scotland 
 upon whom I now find my happiness depends more than I was 
 always aware, and about whose situation I am very anxious." 
 
 " Then Emily was right, and there is a love affair in the case after 
 all ? — And which of these two pretty Scotchwomen, whom you 
 insisted upon my admiring, is the distinguished fair ? — ^not Miss 
 Glen I hope." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Ah, pass for the other : simplicity may be improved, but pride 
 and conceit never. Well, I don't discourage you ; I think it will 
 ilease Sir Everard, from what he said when I jested with him about 
 it ; only I hope that intolerable papa, with his brogue, and his 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 34S 
 
 snufF, and his Latin, and insufferable long stories about the Duke of 
 Berwiclc, will find it necessary hereafter to be an inhabitant of 
 foreign parts. But as to the daughter, though I think you might 
 find as fitting a match in England, yet if your heart be really set 
 upon this Scotch rosebud, why, the Baronet has a great opinion of 
 her father and of his family, and he wishes much to see you married 
 and settled, both for your own sake and for that of the ^three 
 ermines passant, which may otherwise pass away altogether. But I 
 will bring you his mind fully upon the subject, since you are de- 
 barred correspondence for the present, for I think you will not be 
 long in Scotland before me." 
 
 " Indeed ! and what can induce you to think of returning to Scot- 
 land ? No relenting longings towards the land of mountains and 
 floods, I am afraid." 
 
 " None, on my word ; but Emily's health is now, thank God, 
 re-established, and, to tell you the truth, I have little hopes of con- 
 cluding the business which I have at present most at heart, until I 
 can have a personal interview with his Royal Highness the Com- 
 mander-in-Chief ; for, as Fluellen says, ' The Duke doth love me 
 well, and I thank heaven I have deserved some love at his hands.' 
 I^ am now going out for an hour or two to arrange matters for your 
 departure.; your liberty extends to the next room. Lady Emily's 
 parlour, where you wiU find her when you are disposed for music, 
 reading, or conversation. We have taken measures to exclude all 
 servants but Spontoon, who is as true as steel." 
 
 In about two hours Colonel Talbot returned, and found his young 
 friend conversing with his lady ; she pleased with his manners and 
 information, and he delighted at being restored, though but for a 
 moment, to the society of his own rank, from which he had been for 
 some time excluded. 
 
 " And now," said the Colonel, "hear my arrangements, for there 
 is little time to lose. This youngster, Edward Waverley, alias 
 WiUiams, ahas Captain Butler, must continue to pass by his fourth 
 iz/zaj of Francis Stanley, my nephew : he shall set out to-morrow 
 for the North, and the chariot shall take him the first two stages. 
 Spontoon shall then attend him ; and they shall ride post as far as 
 Huntingdon ; and the presence of Spontoon, well known on the 
 road £vs my servant, will check aU disposition to inquiry. At 
 Huntingdon you will meet the real Frank Stanley. He is studying 
 at Cambridge ; but, a little while ago, doubtful if Emily's health 
 would permit me to go down to the North, myself, I procured him 
 a passport from the Secretary of State's office to go in my stead. 
 As he went chiefly to look after you, his journey is now unnecessary. 
 He knows your story ; you will dine together at Huntingdon ; and 
 
346 WAVERLEY. 
 
 perhaps your wise heads may hit upon some plan for removing or 
 diminishing the danger of your farther progress northward. And 
 now " (taking out a morocco case), " let me put you in funds for the 
 campaign." 
 
 " I am ashamed, my dear Colonel " 
 
 "Nay," said Colonel Talbot, "you should command my purse i:i 
 any event ; but this money is your own. Your father, considering 
 the chance of your being attainted, left me his trustee for your 
 advantage. So that you are worth above ^15,000, besides Brere- 
 wood Lodge — a very independent person, I promise you. There 
 are bills here for ^200 ; any larger sum you may have, or credit 
 abroad, as soon as your motions require it." 
 
 The first use which occurred to Waverley of his newly-acquired 
 wealth, was to write to honest Farmer Jopson, requesting his 
 acceptance of a silver tankard on the part of his friend Williams, 
 who had not forgotten the night of the eighteenth December last. 
 He begged him at the same time carefully to preserve for him his 
 Highland garb and accoutrements, particularly the arms, curious 
 in themselves, and to which the friendship of the donors gave addi- 
 tional value. Lady Emily undertook to find some suitable token of 
 remembrance, likely to flatter the vanity and please the taste of 
 Mrs. Williams ; and the Colonel, who wa,s a kind of farmer, pro- 
 mised to send the Ulswater patriarch an excellent team of horses 
 for cart and plough. 
 
 One happy day Waverley spent in London ; and, travelling in the 
 manner projected, he met with Frank Stanley at Huntingdon. The 
 two young men were acquainted in a minute. 
 
 " I can read my uncle's riddle," said Stanley. " The cautious old 
 soldier did not care to hint to me that I might hand over to you 
 this passport, which I have no occasion for ; but if it should after- 
 wards come out as the rattle-pated trick of a young Cantab, cela ne 
 tire a rien. You are therefore to be Francis Stanley, with this 
 passport." This proposal appeared in effect to alleviate a great 
 part of the difficulties which Edward must otherwise have encoun- 
 tered at every turn ; and accordingly he scrupled not to avail him- 
 self of it, the more especially as he had discarded all political 
 purposes from his present journey, and could not be accused of 
 furthering machinations against the Government while travelling 
 under protection of the Secretary's passport. 
 
 The day passed merrily away. The young student was inquisitive 
 about Waverley's campaigns, and the manners of the Highlands ; 
 and Edward was obliged to satisfy his curiosity by whistling a 
 pibroch, dancing a strathspey, and singing a Highland song. The 
 next morning Stanley rode a stage northward with his new friend, 
 
' WAVERLEY. 347 
 
 and parted from him with great reluctance, upon the remonstrances 
 of Spontoon, who, accustomed to submit to discipline was rigid in 
 enforcing it. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 DESOLATION. 
 
 Waverley riding post, as was the usual fashion of the period, 
 without any adventure save one or two queries, which the talisman 
 of his passport sufficiently answered, reached the borders of Scot- 
 land. Here he heard the tidings of the decisive battle of CuUoden. 
 It was no more than he had long expected, though the success at 
 Falkirk had thrown a faint and setting gleam over the arms of the 
 Chevalier. Yet it came upon him like a shock, by which he was 
 for a time altogether unmanned. The generous, the courteous, the 
 noble-minded Adventurer, was then a fugitive, with a price upon 
 his head ; his adherents, so brave, so enthusiastic, so faithful, were 
 dead, imprisoned, or exiled. Where, now, was the exalted and 
 high-souled Fergus, if, indeed, he had survived the night at Clifton ? 
 where the pure-hearted and primitive Baron of Bradwardine, whose 
 foibles seemed foils to set off the disinterestedness of his disposi- 
 tion, the genuine goodness of his heart, and his unshaken courage ? 
 Those who clung for support to these fallen columns. Rose and 
 Flora, where were they to be sought, and in what distress must not 
 the loss of their natural protectors have involved them ? Of Flora 
 he thought with the regard of a brother for a sister ; of Rose, 
 with a sensation yet more deep and tender. It might be still his 
 fate to supply the want of those guardians they had lost. Agitated 
 by these thoughts, he precipitated his journey. 
 
 When he arrived in Edinburgh, where his inquiries must neces- 
 sarily commence, he felt the full difficulty of his situation. Many 
 inhabitants of that city had seen and known him as Edward 
 Waverley ; how, then, could he avail himself of a passport as 
 Francis Stanley? He resolved, therefore, to avoid all company, 
 and to move northward as soon as possible. He was, however, 
 obliged to wait a day or two in expectation of a letter from Colonel 
 Talbot, and he was also to leave his oivn address, under his feigned 
 character, at a place agreed upon. With this latter purpose he 
 sallied out in the dusk through the well-known streets, carefully 
 shunning observation, but in vain : one of the first persons whom 
 he met at once recognised him. It was Mrs. Flockhart, Fergus 
 Mac-Ivor's good-humoured landlady. 
 
 " Gude guide us, Mr. Waverley, is this you ? na, ye needna ba 
 
34 > WAVERLEY. 
 
 feared for me. I wad betray nae gentleman in your circumstances 
 — ell, lack-a-day ! lack-a-day ! here's a change o' markets ! how 
 merry Colonel Mac-Ivor and you used to be in our house ! " And 
 the good-natured widow shed a few natural tears. As there was no 
 resisting her claim of acquaintance, Waverley acknowledged it 
 with a good grace, as well as the danger of his own situation. " As 
 it's near the darkening, sir, wad ye just step in by to our house, and 
 tak a dish o' tea ? and I am sure if ye like to sleep in the little 
 room, I wad tak care ye are no disturbed, and naebody wad ken 
 ye ; for Kate and Matty, the limmers, gaed aff wi' twa o' Hawley's 
 dragoons, and I hae twa new queans instead o' them." 
 
 Waverley accepted her invitation, and engaged her lodging for a 
 night or two, satisfied he should be safer in the house of this simple 
 creature than anywhere else. When he entered the parlour, his 
 heart swelled to see Fergus's bonnet, with the white cockade, hang- 
 ing beside the little mirror. 
 
 " Ay," said Mrs. Flockhart, sighing, as she observed the direc- 
 tion of his eyes, " the puir Colonel bought a new ane just the day 
 before they marched, and I winna let them tak that ane doun, but 
 just to brush it ilka day mysell ; and whiles I look at it till I just 
 think I hear him cry to Callum to bring him his bonnet, as he used 
 to do when he was ganging out. — It's unco silly — the neighbours 
 ca' me a Jacobite — but they may say their say — I am sure it's no 
 for that — but he was as kind-hearted a gentleman as ever 
 lived, and as weel-fa'rd too. Oh, d'ye ken, sir, when he is to 
 suffer.?" 
 
 " Suffer ! Good heaven ! — Why, where is he ?" 
 
 " Eh, Lord's sake ! d'ye no ken ? The poor Hieland body, 
 Dugald Mahoney, cam here a while syne, wi' ane o' his arms cuttit 
 off, and a sair clour in the head — ^ye'll mind Dugald ? he carried 
 aye an axe on his shouther — and he cam here just begging, as I 
 may say, for something to eat. Aweel, he tauld us the Chief, as 
 they ca'd him (but I aye ca' him the Colonel), and Ensign Mac- 
 combich, that ye mind weel, were ta'en somewhere beside the 
 English border, when it was sae dark that his folk never missed 
 him till it was ower late, and they were like to gang clean daft. 
 And he said that little Callum Beg (he was a bold mischievous 
 callant that), and your honour, were killed that same night in the 
 tuilzie, and mony mae braw men. But he grat when he spak o'the 
 Colonel, ye never saw the like. And now the word gangs, the ' 
 Colonel is to be tried, and to suffer wi' them that were ta'en at 
 Carlisle." 
 
 "And his sister?" , 
 
 " Ay, that they ca'd the Lady Flora— weel, she's away up to Car- 
 
WAVERLEY. 349 
 
 lisle to him, and lives wi' some grand Papist lady thereabouts, to be 
 near him." 
 
 " And," said Edward, " the other young lady ? " 
 
 " Whilk other ? I ken only of ae sister the Colonel had." 
 
 " I mean Miss Bradwardine," said Edward. 
 
 " Ou ay, the laird's daughter," said his landlady. " She was a 
 very bonny lassie, poor thing, but far shyer than Lady Flora." 
 
 "Where is she, for God's sake?" 
 
 '■ Ou, wha kens where ony o' them is now? pair things, they're 
 sair ta'en doun for their white cockades and their white roses ; but 
 she gaed north to her father's in Perthshire, when the government 
 troops cam back to Edinbro'. There was some pretty men amang 
 them, and ana Major Whacker was quartered on me, a very ceevil 
 gentleman, — but O, Mr. Waverley, he was naething sae well-fa'rd 
 as the puir Colonel." 
 
 " Do you know what is become of Miss Bradwardine's father? " 
 
 " The auld laird ? — na, naebody kens that ; but they say he ' 
 fought very hard in that bluidy battle at Inverness ; and Deacon 
 Clank, the white-iron smith says, that the Government folk are sair 
 agane him for having been oui twict; and troth he might have 
 ta'en warning, but there's nae fule like an auld fule — the puir Colonel 
 was only out ance." 
 
 Such conversation contained almost all the good-natured widow 
 knew of the fate of her late lodgers and acquaintances ; but it was 
 enough to determine Edward at all hazards to proceed instantly to 
 Tully-Veolan, where he concluded he should see, or at least hear 
 something of Rose. He therefore left a letter for Colonel Talbot 
 at the place agreed upon, signed by his assumed name, and giving 
 for his address the post-town next to the Baron's residence. 
 
 From Edinburgh to Perth he took post-horses, resolving to make 
 the rest of his journey on foot ; a mode of travelling to which he 
 was partial, and which had the advantage of permitting a deviation 
 from the road when he saw parties of military at a distance. His 
 campaign had considerably strengthened his constitution, and im- 
 proved his habits of enduring fatigue. His baggage he sent before 
 him as opportunity occurred. 
 
 As he advanced northward, the traces of war became visible. 
 Broken carriages, dead horses, unroofed cottages, trees felled for 
 palisades, and bridges destroyed, or only partially repaired, — all 
 indicated the movements of hostile armies. In those places where 
 the gentry where attached to the Stuart cause, their houses seemed 
 dismantled or deserted, the usual course of what may be called 
 ornamental labour was totally interrupted, and the inhabitants were 
 seen gliding about, with fear, sorrow, and dejection on their faces. 
 
3S0 
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 It was evening when he approached the village of Tully-Veolan, 
 with feehngs and sentiments — ^how different from those which 
 attended his first entrance ! Then, hfe was so new to him, that a 
 dull or disagreeable day was one of the greatest misfortunes which 
 his imagination anticipated, and it seemed to him that his time 
 ought only to be consecrated to elegant or amusing study, and 
 relieved by social or youthful frolic. ' Now, how changed ! how 
 saddened, yet how elevated was his character, within the course of 
 a very few months ! Danger and misfortune are rapid, though 
 severe teachers. " A sadder and a wiser man," he felt, in internal 
 confidence and mental dignity, a compensation for the gay dreams 
 vifhich, in his case, experience had so rapidly dissolved. 
 
 As he approached the village, he saw, with surprise and anxiety, 
 that a party of soldiers were quartered near it, and, what was worse, 
 that they seemed stationary there. This he conjectured from a few 
 tents which he beheld glimmering upon what was called the Com- 
 mon Mooi'. To avoid the risk of being stopped and questioned in 
 a place where he was so likely to be recognised, he made a large 
 circuit, altogether avoiding the hamlet, and approaching the upper 
 gate of the avenue by a by-path well known to him. A single 
 glance announced that great changes had taken place. One half 
 of the gate, entirely destroyed, and split up for firewood, lay in 
 piles, ready to be taken away ; the other swung uselessly about 
 upon its loosened hinges. The battlements above the gate were 
 broken and thrown down, and the carved Bears, which were said 
 to have done sentinel's duty upon the top for centuries, now, hurled 
 from their posts, lay among the rubbish. The avenue was cruelly 
 wasted. Several large trees were felled and left lying across the 
 path ; and the cattle of the villagers, and the more rude hoofs of 
 dragoon horses, had poached into black mud the verdant turf which 
 Waverley had so much admired. 
 
 Upon entering the court-yard, Edward saw the fears realized 
 which these circumstances had excited. The place had been 
 sacked by the King's troops, who, in wanton mischief, had even 
 attempted to bum it ; and though the thickness of the walls had 
 resisted the fire, unless to a partial extent, the stables and out- 
 houses were totally consumed. The towers and pinnacles of the 
 main building were scorched and blackened ; the pavement of the 
 court broken and shattered ; the doors torn down entirely, or hang- 
 ing by a single hinge; the windows dashed in and demolished ; 
 and the court strewed with articles of furniture broken into frag- 
 ments. The accessaries of ancient distinction, to which the Baron, 
 in the pride of his h^rt, had attached so much importance and 
 veneration, were treated with peculiar contumely. The fountain 
 
WAVERLEY. 351 
 
 was demolished, and the spring, which had supplied it, now flooded 
 the court-yard. The stone-basin seemed to be destined for a 
 drinking-trough for cattle, from the manner in which it was arranged 
 upon the ground. The whole tribe of Bears, large and small, had 
 experienced as little favour as those at the head of the avenue ; and 
 one or two of the family pictures, which seemed to have served as 
 targets for the soldiers, lay on the ground in tatters. With an 
 aching heart, as may well be imagined, Edward viewed this ^vreck 
 of a mansion so respected. But his anxiety to learn the fate of the 
 proprietors, and his fears as to what that fate might be, increased 
 with every step. When he entered upon the terrace, new scenes of 
 desolation were visible. The balustrade was broken down, the 
 walls destroyed, the borders overgrown with weeds, and the fruit- 
 trees cut down or grubbed up. In one compartment of this old- 
 fashioned garden were two immense horse-chesnut trees, of whose 
 size the Baron was particularly vain : too lazy, perhaps, to cut them 
 down, the spoilers, with malevolent ingenuity, had mined them, and 
 placed a quantity of gunpowder in the cavity. One had been 
 shivered to pieces by the explosion, and the fragments lay scattered 
 around, encumbering the ground it had so long shadowed. The 
 other mine had been more partial in its effect. About one-fourth 
 of the trunk of the tree was torn from the mass, which, mutilated 
 and defaced on the one side, still spread on the other its ample and 
 undiminished boughs.* 
 
 Amid these general marks of ravage, there were some which 
 more particularly addressed the feelings of Waverley. Viewing the 
 front of the building, thus wasted and defaced, his eyes naturally 
 sought the little balcony which more properly belonged to Rose's 
 apartment — ^her troisieme, or rather cinquiime etage. It was easily 
 discovered, for beneath it lay the stage-flowers and shrubs 
 with which it was her pride to decorate it, and which had been 
 hurled from the bartizan : several of her books were mingled with 
 broken flower-pots and other remnants. Among these, Waverley 
 distinguished one of his own, a small copy of Ariosto, and gathered 
 it as a treasure, though wasted by the wind and rain. 
 
 While, plunged in the sad reflections which the scene excited, he 
 was looking around for some one who might explain the fate of the 
 inhabitants, he heard a voice from the interior of the building sing- 
 ing, in well-remembered accents, an old Scottish song : 
 
 " They came upon us in the night, 
 And brake my bower and slew my knight : 
 My servants a' for life did flee, 
 And left js in extremitie. 
 
3S2 WAVERLEY. 
 
 They slew the knight, to me sac dear ; 
 They slew my knight, and drave his gear ; * 
 The moon may set, the sun may rise, 
 But a deadly sleep has closed his eyes." 
 
 " Alas ! " thought Edward, " is.it thou ? Poor helpless being, art 
 thou alone left, to gibber and moan, and fill with thy wild and un- 
 connected scraps of minstrelsy the halls that protected thee?" — He 
 then called, first low, and then louder, " Davie — Davie Gellatley ! " 
 The poor simpleton showed himself from atnong the ruins of a 
 sort of green-house, that once terminated what was called the Ter- 
 race-walk, but at first sight of a stranger retreated, as if in ten-or. 
 Waverley, remembering his habits, began to whistle a tune to 
 which he was partial, which Davie had expressed great pleasure in 
 listening to, and had picked up from him by the ear. Our hero's 
 minstrelsy no more equalled that of Blondel, than poor Davie 
 resembled Coeur de Lion ; but the melody had the same effect of 
 producing recognition. Davie again stole from his lurking-place, 
 but timidly, while Waverley, afraid of frightening him, stood making 
 the most encouraging signals he could devise. — " It's his ghaist," 
 muttered Davie ; yet, coming nearer, he seemed to acknowledge 
 his living acquaintance. The poor fool himself appeared the ghost 
 of what he had been. The peculiar dress in which he had been 
 attired in better days, showed only miserable rags of its whimsical 
 finery, the lack of which was oddly supplied by the remnants of 
 tapestried hangings, window-curtains, and shreds of pictures, with 
 which he had bedizened his tatters. His face, too, had lost its 
 vacant and careless air, and the poor creature looked hollow-eyed, 
 meagre, half-starved, and nervous to a pitiable degree. After long 
 hesitation, he at length approached Waverley with some confidence, 
 stared him sadly in the face, and said, " A' dead and gane— a' dead 
 and gane ! " 
 
 " Who are dead ? " said Waverley, forgetting the incapacity of 
 Davie to hold any connected discourse. 
 
 "Baron — and Bailie— and Saunders Saunderson — and Lady 
 Rose, that sang sae sweet — A' dead and gane — dead and gane 1 
 
 But follow, follow me. 
 
 While glow-worms light the lea, 
 
 I'll show you where the dead should be — 
 Each in his shroud, 
 While winds pipe loud. 
 And the red moon peeps dim through the cloud. 
 
 Follow, follow me ; 
 
 Brave should he be 
 
 That treads by night the dead man's lea." 
 With these words, chanted in a wild and earnest tone, he made 
 
WAVERLEY. 
 
 353 
 
 a sign to Waverley to follow him, and walked rapidly towards the 
 bottom of the garden, tracing the bank of the stream, which it may 
 be remembered, was its eastern boundary. Edward, over whom an 
 involuntary shuddering stole at the import of his words, followed 
 him in some hope of an explanation. As the house was evidently 
 deserted, he could not expect to find among the ruins any more 
 rational informer. 
 
 Davie, walking very fast, soon reached the extremity of the 
 garden, and scrambled over the ruins of the wall that once had 
 divided it from the wooded glen in which the old tower of TuUy- 
 Veolan was situated. He then jumped down into the bed of the 
 stream, and, followed by Waverley, proceeded at a great pace, 
 climbing over some fragments of rock, and turning with difficulty 
 round others. They passed beneath the ruins of the castle ; 
 Waverley followed, keeping up with his guide with difficulty, ^f or 
 the twilight began to fall. Following the descent of the stream a 
 little lower, he totally lost him, but a twinkling light, which he now 
 discovered among the tangled copse wood and bushes, seemed a 
 surer guide. He soon pursued a verj' uncouth path ; and by its 
 guidance at length reached the door of a wretched hut. A fierce 
 barking of dogs was at first heard, but it stilled at his approach. 
 A voice sounded from within, and he held it most prudent to listen 
 before he advanced. 
 
 " Wha hast thou brought here, thou unsonsy villain, thou ? " said 
 an old woman, apparently in great indignation. He heard Davie 
 Gellatley, in answer, whistle a part of the tune by which he had 
 recalled himself to the simpleton's memory, and had now no 
 hesitation to knock at the door. There was a dead silence instantly 
 within, except the deep growling cf the dogs ; and he next heard 
 the mistress of the hut approach the door, not probably for the 
 sake of undoing a latch, but of fastening a bolt. To prevent this, 
 Waverley lifted the latch himself. 
 
 In front was an old wretched-looking woman, exclaiming, " Wha 
 comes into folk's houses in this gate, at this time o' the nicht ? " 
 On one side, two grim and half-starved deer greyhounds laid aside 
 their ferocity at his appearance, and seemed to recognise him. On 
 the other side, half concealed by the open door, yet apparently 
 seeking that concealment reluctantly, with a cocked pistol in his 
 right hand, and his left in the act of drawing another from his belt, 
 stood a tall bony gaunt figure in the remnants of a faded uniform, 
 and a beard of three weeks' growth. 
 
 It was the Baron of Bradwardine. — It is unnecessary to add, that 
 he threw aside his weapon, and greeted Waverley with a hearty 
 embrace. 
 
3S4 
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 
 COMPARING OF NOTES. 
 
 The Baron's story was short, when divested of the adages and 
 commonplaces, Latin, EngHsh, and Scotch, with which his eru- 
 dition garnished it. He insisted much upon his grief at the loss of 
 Edward and of Glennaquoich, fought the fields of Falkirk and 
 CuUoden, and related how, after all was lost in the last battle, he 
 had returned home, under the idea of more easily finding shelter 
 among his own tenants, and on his own estate, than elsewhere. A 
 party of soldiers had been sent to lay waste his property, for 
 clemency was not the order of the day. Their proceedings, how- 
 ever, were checked by an order from the civil court. The estate, it 
 was found, might not be forfeited to the crown, to the prejudice of 
 Malcolm Bradwardine of Inch-Grabbit, the heir-male, whose claim 
 could not be prejudiced by the Baron's attainder, as deriving no 
 right through him, and who, therefore, like other heirs of entail in 
 the same situation, entered upon possession. But, unlike many in 
 similar circumstances, the new laird speedily showed that he 
 intended utterly to exclude his predecessor from all benefit or 
 advantage in the estate, and that it was his purpose to avail him- 
 self of the old Baron's evil fortune to the full extent. This was the 
 more ungenerous, as it was generally known, that, from a romantic 
 idea of not prejudicing this young man's right as heir-male, the 
 Baron had refrained from settling his estate on his daughter. : 
 
 This selfish injustice was resented by the country people, who 
 were partial to their old master, and irritated against his successor. 
 In the Baron's own words, " The matter did not coincide with the 
 feelings of the commons of Bradwardine, Mr. Waverley ; and the 
 tenants were slack and repugnant in payment of their mails and 
 duties ; and when my kinsman came to the village wi' the new 
 factor, Mr. James Howie, to lift the rents, some wanchancy person 
 — I suspect John Heatherblutter, the auld gamekeeper, that was 
 out wi' me in the year fifteen — fired a shot at him in the gloaming, 
 whereby he was so affrighted, that I may say with Tullius in 
 Catilinam, Abiit, evasit, erupit, effugit. He fled, sir, as one may 
 say, incontinent to Stirling. And now he hath advertised the 
 estate for sale, being himself the last substitute in the entail.^And 
 if I were to lament about sic matters, this would grieve me mair 
 than its passing from my immediate possession, whilk, by the 
 course of nature, must have happened in a few years. Whereas 
 now it passes from the lineage that should have possessed it in 
 sacula^ saculortim. But God's will be done, humana ■[terpessi 
 
WAVERLEY. 353 
 
 sumus. Sir John of Bradwardine— Black Sir Jolm, as he is called 
 — who was the common ancestor of our house and the Inch- 
 Grabbits, little thought such a person would have sprung from his 
 loins. Meantime, he has accused me to some of tht j>rimates, the 
 rulers for the time, as if I were a cut-throat, and an abettor of 
 bravoes and assassinates, and coupe-jarrets. And they have sent 
 soldiers here to abide on the estate, and hunt me like a partridge 
 upon the mountains, as Scripture says of good King David, or like 
 our valiant Sir William Wallace,— not that I bring myself into 
 ■comparison with either. — I thought, when I heard you at the door, 
 they had driven the auld deer to his den at last ; and so I e'en 
 proposed to die at bay, like a buck of the first head. — But now, 
 Janet, canna ye gie us something for supper ? " 
 
 " Ou ay, sir, I'll brander the moor-fowl that John Heatherblutter 
 brought in this morning ; and ye see puir Davie's roasting the 
 black hen's eggs. — I daur say, Mr. Wauverley, ye never kend that 
 a' the eggs that were sae weel roasted at supper in the Ha'-house 
 were aye turned by our Davie ? — there's no the like o' him ouy gate 
 for powtering wi' his fingers amang the het peat-ashes, and roasting 
 eggs." Davie all this while lay with his nose almost in the fire, 
 nuzzling among the ashes, kicking his heels, mumbling to himself, 
 turning the eggs as they lay in the hot embers, as if to confute the 
 proverb, that " there goes reason to roasting of eggs," and justify 
 the eulogium which poor Janet poured out upon 
 
 " Him whom she loved, her idiot boy." 
 
 " Davie's no sae silly as folk tak him for, Mr. Wauverley ; he 
 wadna hae brought you here unless he had kend ye was a friend to 
 his Honour — indeed the very dogs kend ye, Mr. Wauverley, for ye 
 was aye kind to beast and body. — I can tell you a story o' Davie, 
 wi' his Honour's leave : His Honour, ye see, being under hiding in 
 thae sair times — the mair's the pity — he lies a' day, and whiles a' 
 night, in the cove in the dern hag ; but though it's a bieldy eneugh 
 bit, and the auld gudeman o' Corse-Cleugh has panged it wi' a 
 kemple o' strae amaist, yet when the country's quiet, and the night 
 very cauld, his Honour whiles creeps doun here to get a warm at 
 the ingle, and a sleep amang the blankets, and gangs awa in the" 
 morning. And so, ae morning, siccan a fright as I got ! Twa 
 unlucky red-coats were up for black-fishing, or some siccan ploy— 
 for the neb o' them's never out o' mischief— and they just got a 
 glisk o' his Honour as he gaed into the wood, and banged aff a 
 gun at him. I out like a jer-falcon, and cried,—' Wad they shoot 
 an honest woman's* poor innocent bairn ? ' And I fleyt at them, 
 and threepit it was my son ; and they damned and swuir at m^ 
 
356 WAVERLEY. 
 
 that it was the auld rebel, as the villains ca'd his Honour ; and 
 Davie was in the wood, and heard the tuilzie, and he, just out o' his 
 ain head, got up the auld grey mantle that his Honour had flung 
 off him to gang the faster, and he cam out o' the very same bit o' 
 the wood, majoring and looking about sae like his Honour, that 
 they were clean beguiled, and thought they had letten aff their gun 
 at crack-brained Sawney, as they ca' him ; and they gae me sax- 
 pence, and twa saumon fish, to say naething about it. — Na, na ; 
 Davie's no just like other folk, puir fallow ; but he's no sae silly as 
 folk tak him for. — But, to be sure, how can we do eneugh for his 
 Honour, when we and ours have lived on his ground this twa 
 hundred years ; and when he keepit my puir Jamie at school and 
 college, and even at the Ha'-house, till he gaed to a better place ; 
 and when he saVed me frae being ta'en to Perth as a witch — Lord 
 forgi'e them that would touch sic a puir silly auld body ! — and has 
 maintained puir Davie at heck and manger maist feck o' his life?" 
 
 Waverley at length found an opportunity to interrupt Janet's 
 narrative, by an inquiry after Miss Bradwardine. 
 
 " She's weel and safe, thank God ! at the Duchran," answered 
 the Baron : " the laird's distantly related to us, and more nearly to 
 my chaplain, Mr. Kubrick ; and, though he be of Whig principles, 
 yet he's not forgetful of auld friendship at this time. The Bailie's 
 doing what he can to save something out of the wreck for puir 
 Rose ; but I doubt, I doubt, I shall never see her again, for I maun 
 lay my banes in some far country." 
 
 " Hout na, your Honour," said old Janet ; " ye were just as ill aff 
 in the feifteen, and got the bonnie baronie back, an' a'. — And now 
 the eggs is ready, and the muir-cock's brandered, and there's ilk 
 ane a trencher and some saut, and the heel o' the white loaf that 
 cam frae the Bailie's ; and there's plenty o' brandy in the greybeard 
 that Luckie Maclearie sent doun ; and winna ye be suppered like 
 princes ? " 
 
 " I wish one Prince, at least, of our acquaintance, may be no 
 worse off," said the Baron to Waverley, who joined him in cordial 
 hopes for the safety of the unfortunate Chevalier. 
 
 They then began to talk of their future prospects. The Baron's 
 plan was very simple. It was, to escape to France, where, by the 
 interest of his old friends, he hoped to get some military employ- 
 ment, of which he still conceived himself capable. He invited 
 Waverley to go with him, a proposal in which he acquiesced, 
 providing the interest of Colonel Talbot should fail in procuring his 
 pardon. Tacitly he hoped the Baron would sanction his addresses 
 to Rose, and give him a right to assist him in his exile ; but he 
 forbore to speak on this subject until his own fate should be 
 
WAVERLEY. 3S7 
 
 decided. They then talked of Glennaquoich, for whom the Baron 
 expressed great anxiety, although, he observed, he was " the very 
 Achilles of Horatius Flaccus, — 
 
 Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer. 
 
 Which," he continued, " has been thus rendered (vernacularly) by 
 Struan Robertson : 
 
 A fiery etter-cap, a fractious chiel, 
 
 As het as ginger, and as stieve as steel." 
 
 Flora had a large and unqualified share of the good old man's 
 sympathy. 
 
 It was now wearing late. Old Janet got into some kind of 
 kennel behind the hallan ; Davie had been long asleep and snoring 
 between Ban and Buscar. These dogs had followed him to the 
 hut after the mansion-house was deserted, and there constantly 
 resided ; and their ferocity, with the old woman's reputation of 
 being a witch, contributed a good deal to keep visitors from the 
 glen. With this view, Bailie Macwheeble provided Janet under- 
 hand with meal for their maintenance, and also with little articles 
 of luxury for his patron's use, in supplying which much precaution 
 was necessarily used. After some compliments, the Baron occu- 
 pied his usual couch, and Waverley reclined in an easy chair of 
 tattered velvet, which had once garnished the state bed-room of 
 TuUy-Veolan (for the furniture of this mansion was now scattered 
 through all the cottages in the vicinity), and went to sleep as com- 
 fortably as if he had been in a bed of down. 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 MORE EXPLANATION. 
 
 With the first dawn of day, old Janet was scuttling about the 
 house to wake the Baron, who usually slept sound and heavily. 
 
 " I must go back," he said to Waverley, "to my cove : will you 
 walk down the glen wi' me ? " 
 
 They went out together, and followed a narrow and entangled 
 foot-path, which the occasional passage of anglers, or wood-cutters, 
 had traced by the side of the stream. On their way, the Baron 
 explained to Waverley, that he would be under no danger in 
 remaining a day or two at Tally- Veolan, and even in being seen 
 walking about, if he used the precaution of pretending that he was 
 lookmg at the estate as agent or surveyor for an English gentle- 
 man, who designed to be purchaser. With this view, he reconii. 
 
3sS WAVERLEY. 
 
 mended to him to visit the Bailie, who still lived at the factor's 
 house, called Little Veolan, about a mile from the village, though 
 he was to remove at next term. Stanley's passport would be an 
 answer to the officer who commanded the military ; and as to any 
 of the country people who might recognise Waverley, the Baron 
 assured him that he was in no danger of being betrayed by them. 
 
 " I beheve," said the old man, " half the people of the barony 
 know that their poor auld laird is somewhere hereabout ; for I see 
 they do not suffer a single bairn to come here a bird-nesting ; a 
 practice whilk, when I was in full possession of my power as baron, 
 I was unable totally to inhibit. Nay, I often find bits of things in 
 my way, that the poor bodies, God help them ! leave there, because 
 theylhink they may be useful to me. I hope they will get a wiser 
 master, and as kind a one as I was." 
 
 A natural sigh closed the sentence ; but the quiet equanimity 
 with which the Baron endured his misfortunes, had something in 
 it venerable, and even sublime. There was no fruitless repining, 
 no turbid melancholy ; he bore his lot, and the hardships which it 
 involved, with a good-humoured, though serious composure, and 
 used no violent language against the prevailing party. 
 
 " I did what I thought my duty," said the good old man, " and 
 questionless they are doing what they think theirs. It grieves me 
 sometimes to look upon these blackened walls of the house of my 
 ancestors ; but doubtless officers cannot always keep the soldiers 
 hand from depredation and spuilzie ; and Gustavus Adolphus him- 
 self, as ye may read in Colonel Munro his Expedition with the 
 worthy Scotch regiment called Mackay's regiment, did often permit 
 it. — Indeed I have myself seen as sad sights as TuUy- Veolan now 
 is, when I served with the Mareschal Duke of Berwick. To be 
 sure, we may say with Virgilius Maro, Fuimus Troes — and there's 
 the end of an auld sang. But houses an'fl families and men have a' 
 stood lang eneugh when they have stood till they fall with honour ; 
 and now I hae gotten a house that is not unlike a domus ultima " 
 — they were now standing below a steep rock. "We poor 
 Jacobites," continued the Baron, looking up, " are now like the 
 conies in Holy Scripture (which the great traveller Pococke calleth 
 Jerboa), a feeble people, that make our abode in the rocks. So, 
 fare you well, my good lad, till we meet at Janet's in the even ; for 
 I must get into my Patmos, which is no easy matter for my auld 
 stiff limbs. 
 
 With that he began to ascend the rock, striding, with the help of 
 his haaids, from one precarious footstep to another, till he got about 
 halfway up, where two or three bushes concealed the mouth of a 
 hole, resembling an oven, into which the Baron insinuated, first his 
 
WAVERLEY. 359 
 
 head and shoulders, and then, by slow gradation, the rest of his 
 long body; his legs and feet finally disappearing, coiled up like 
 a huge snake entering his retreat, or a long pedigree introduced . 
 with care and difficulty into the narrow pigeon-hole of an old 
 cabinet. Waverley had the curiosity to clamber up and look in 
 upon him in his den, as the lurking-place might well be termed. 
 Upon the whole, he looked not unlike that ingenious puzzle, called 
 a reel in a bottle, the marvel of children (and of some grown people 
 too, myself for one), who can neither comprehend the mystery how 
 it has got in, or how it is to be taken out. The cave was very 
 narrow, too low in the roof to admit of his standing, or almost of 
 his sitting up, though he made some awkward attempts at the 
 latter posture. His sole amusement was the perusal of his old 
 friend Titus Livius, varied by occasionally scratching Latin 
 proverbs and texts of Scripture with his knife on the roof and walls 
 of his fortalice, which were of sand-stone. As the cave was dry, 
 and filled with clean straw and withered fern, " it made," as he 
 said, coiling himself up with an air of snugness and comfort which 
 contrasted strangely with his situation, " unless when the wind was 
 due north, a very passable gite for an old soldier." Neither, as he 
 observed, was he without sentries for the purpose of reconnoitring. 
 Davie and his mother were constantly on the watch, to discover 
 and avert danger ; and it was singular what instances of address 
 seemed dictated by the instinctive attachment of the poor simpleton, 
 when his patron's safety was concerned. 
 
 With Janet, Edward now sought an interview. He had recog- 
 nised her at first sight as the old woman who had nursed him 
 during his sickness after his delivery from Gifted GilfiUan. The 
 hut, also, though a little repaired, and somewhat better furnished, 
 was certainly the place of his confinement ; and he now recollected 
 on the common moor of TuUy-Veolan the trunk of a large decayed 
 tree, called the trysting-tree, which he had no doubt was the same 
 at which the Highlanders rendezvoused on that memorable night. 
 All this he had combined in his imagination the night before ; but 
 reasons, which may probably occur to the reader, prevented him 
 from catechising Janet in the presence of the Baron. 
 
 He now commenced the task in good earnest ; and the first 
 question was. Who was the young lady that visited the hut during 
 his illness ? Janet paused for a little ; and then observed, that to 
 keep the secret now would neither do good nor iU to anybody. 
 
 " It was just a leddy that hasna her equal in the world — Miss 
 Rose Bradwardine." 
 
 "Then Miss Rose was probably also the author of ray 
 dehverance," inferred Waverley, delighted at the confirmation of 
 
36o WAVERLEY. 
 
 an idea which local circumstances had already induced him to 
 entertain. 
 
 " I wot wee], Mr. Wauverley, and that was she e'en ; but sair, 
 sair angry and affronted wad "she hae been, puir thing, if she had 
 thought he had been ever to ken a word about the matter; for she 
 gar'd me speak aye Gaelic when ye was in hearing, to mak ye 
 trow we were in the Hielands. I can speak it weil eneugh, for my 
 mother was a Hieland woman." 
 
 A few more questions now brought out the whole mystery 
 respecting Waverley's deliverance from the bondage in which he 
 left Cairnvreckan. Never did music sound sweeter to an amateur, 
 than the drowsy tautology, with which old Janet detailed every 
 circumstance, thrilled upon the ears of Waverley. But my reader 
 is not a lover, and I must spare his patience, by attempting to • 
 condense within reasonable compass the narrative which old Janet 
 spread through a harangue of nearly two hours. 
 
 When Waverley communicated to Fergus the letter he had 
 received from Rose Bradwardine, by Davie Gellatley, giving an 
 account of TuUy-Veolan being ocflupied by a small party of soldiers, 
 that circumstance had struck upon the busy and active mind of the 
 Chieftain. Eager to distress and narrow the posts of the enemy, 
 desirous to prevent their establishing a garrison so near him, and 
 willing also to oblige the Baron, — for he often had the idea of 
 marriage with Rose floating through his brain, — he resolved to send 
 some of his people to drive out the red-coats, and to bring Rose to 
 Glennaquoich. But just as he had ordered Evan with a small 
 party on this duty, the news of Cope's having marched into the 
 Highlands to meet and disperse the forces of the Chevalier ere 
 they came to a head, obliged him to join the standard with his 
 whole forces. 
 
 He sent to order Donald Bean to attend hirii ; but that cautious 
 freebooter, who well understood the value of a separate command, 
 instead of joining, sent various apologies which the pressure of the 
 times compelled Fergus to admit as current, though not without 
 the internal resolution of being revenged on him for his procrasti- 
 nation, time and place convenient. However, as he could not 
 amend the matter, he issued orders to Donald to descend into the 
 Low Country, drive the soldiers from Ttilly-Veolan, and, paying all 
 respect to the mansion of the Baron, to take his abode somewhere 
 near it, for protection of his daughter and family, and to harass 
 and drive away any of the armed volunteers, or small parties of 
 military, which he might find moving about the vicinity. 
 
 As this charge formed a sort of roving commission, ijvhich 
 Donald proposed to interpret in the way most advantageous to 
 
WAVERLEY. 361 
 
 himself, as he was relieved from the immediate terrors of Fergus, 
 and as he had, from former secret services, some interest in the 
 councils of the Chevaher, he resolved to make hay while the sun 
 shone. He achieved, without difficulty, the task of driving the 
 soldiers from TuUy-Veolan ; but although he did not venture to 
 encroach upon the interior of the family, or to disturb Miss Rose, 
 being unwilling to make himself- a powerful enemy in the 
 Chevalier's army, 
 
 " For vi-ell he knew the Baron's wrath was deadly ; " 
 yet he set about to raise contributions and exactions upon the 
 tenantry, and otherwise to turn the war to his own advantage. 
 Meanwhile he mounted the white cockade, and waited upon Rose 
 -with a pretext of great devotion for the service in which her 
 father was engaged, and many apologies for the freedom he must 
 necessarily use for the support of his people. It was at this 
 moment that Rose learned, by open-mouthed fame, with all sorts 
 of exaggeration, that Waverley had killed the smith at Cairn- 
 vreckan, in an attempt to arrest him ; had been cast into a dungeon 
 by Major Melville of Cairnvreclcan, and was to be executed by 
 martial law within three days. In the agony which these tidings 
 excited, she proposed to Donald Bean the rescue of the prisoner. 
 It was the very sort of service which he was desirous to under- 
 take, judging it might constitute a merit of such a nature as would 
 make amends for any peccadilloes which he might be guilty of 
 in the country. He had the art, however, pleading all the while 
 duty and discipline, to hold off, until poor Rose, in the extremity of 
 her distress, offered to bribe him to the enterprise with some 
 valuable jewels which had been her mother's. 
 
 Donald Bean, who had served in France, knew, and perhaps 
 over-estimated, the value of these trinkets. But he also perceived 
 Rose's apprehensions of its being discovered that she had parted 
 with her jewels for Waverley's liberation. Resolved this scruple 
 should not part him and the treasure, he voluntarily offered to take 
 an oath that he would never mention Miss Rose's share in the 
 transaction ; and foreseeing convenience in keeping the oath, and 
 no probable advantage in breaking it, he took the engagement — in 
 order, as he told his lieutenant, to deal handsomely by the young 
 lady — in" the only mode and form which, by a mental paction with 
 'himself, he , considered as binding — he swore secrecy upon his 
 drawn kirk. He was the more especially moved to this act of good 
 faith by some attentions that Miss Bradwardine showed to his 
 daughter Alice, which, while they gained the heart of the mountain 
 damsel, highly gratified the pride of her father. Alice, who could 
 now speak a little English, was very communicative in return for 
 
362 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Rose's kindness, readily confided to her the whole papers respecting 
 the intrigue with Gardiner's regiment, of which she was the 
 depositary, and as readily undertook, at her instance, to restore 
 them to Waverley without her father's knowledge. " For they may 
 oblige the bonnie young lady and the handsome young gentleman," 
 said Alice, " and what use has my father for a whin bits o' scarted 
 paper ? " 
 
 The reader is aware that she took an opportunity of executing 
 this purpose on the eve of Waverley's leaving the glen. 
 
 How Donald executed his enterprise, the reader is aware. But 
 the expulsion of the military from Tully-Veolan had given alarm, 
 and, while he was lying in wait for Gilfillan, a strong party, such as 
 Donald did not care to face, was sent to drive back the insurgents 
 in their turn, to encamp there, and to protect the country. The 
 officer, a gentleman and a disciplinarian, neither intruded himself 
 on Miss Bradwardine, whose unprotected situation he respected, 
 nor permitted his soldiers to commit any breach of discipline. 
 He formed a little camp, upon an eminence near the house of 
 Tully-Veolan, and placed proper guards at the passes in the 
 vicinity. This unwelcome news reached Donald Bean Lean as 
 he was returning to Tully-Veolan. Determined, however, to 
 obtain the guerdon of his labour, he resolved, since approach to 
 Tully-Veolan was impossible, to deposit his prisoner in Janet's 
 cottage, a place the very existence of which could hardly have been 
 suspected even by those who had long lived in the vicinity, unless 
 they had been guided thither, and which was utterly unlcnown to 
 Waverley himself This effected, he claimed and received his 
 reward. Waverley's illness was an event which deranged all their 
 calculations. Donald was obliged to leave the neighbourhood with 
 his people, and to seek more free course for his adventures else- 
 where. At Rose's eai-nest entreaty, he left an old man, a herbalist, 
 who was supposed to understand a little of medicine, to attend 
 Waverley during his illness. 
 
 In the meanwhile, new and fearful doubts started in Rose's mind. 
 They were suggested by old Janet, who insisted, that a reward 
 having been offered for the apprehension of Waverley, and his own 
 personal effects being so valuable, there was no saying to what 
 breach of faith Donald might be tempted. In an agony of grief 
 and terror, Rose took the daring resolution of explaining to the 
 Prince himself the danger in which Mr. Waverley stood, judging 
 that, both. as a politician, and a man of honour and humanity, 
 Charles Edward would interest himself to prevent his falling into 
 the hands of the opposite party. This letter she at first thought of 
 sending anonymously, but naturally feared it would not, in that 
 
WAVERLEY. 363 
 
 case, be credited. She therefore subscribed her name, though with 
 reluctance and terror, and consigned it in charge to a young man, 
 who,^t leaving his farm to join the Chevalier's army, made it his 
 petition to her to have some sort of credentials to the Adventurer, 
 from whom he hoped to obtain a commission. 
 
 The letter reached Charles Edward on his descent to the Lowlands, 
 and, aware of the political importance of having it supposed that he 
 was in correspondence with the English Jacobites, he caused the most 
 positive orders to be transmitted to Donald Bean Lean, to transmit 
 Waverley, safe and uninjured in person or effects, to th^ governor 
 of Doune Castle. The freebooter durst not disobey, for the army 
 of the Prince was now so near him that punishment might have 
 followed ; besides, he was a politician as well as a robber, and was 
 unwilling to cancel the interest created through former secret 
 services, by being refractory on this occasion. He therefore made 
 a virtue of necessity, and transmitted orders to his lieutenant to 
 convey Edward to Doune, which was safely accomplished in the 
 mode mentioned in a former chapter. The governor of Doune was 
 directed to send him to Edinburgh as a prisoner, because the Prince 
 was apprehensive that Waverley, if set at liberty, might have 
 resumed his purpose of returning to England, without affording 
 him an opportunity of a personal intei-view. In this, indeed, he 
 acted by the advice of the Chieftain of Glennaquoich, with whom 
 it may be remembered the Chevalier communicated upon the mode 
 of disposing of Edward, though without telling him how he came 
 to learn the place of his confinement. 
 
 This, indeed, Charles Edward considered as a lady's secret : for 
 although Rose's letter was couched in the most cautious and 
 general terms, and professed to be vwitten merely from motives of 
 humanity, and zeal for the Prince's service, yet she expressed so 
 anxious a wish that she should not be known to have interfered, 
 that the Chevalier was induced to suspect the deep interest which 
 she took in Waverley's safety. This conjecture, which was well 
 founded, led, however, to false inferences. For the emotion which 
 Edward displayed on approaching Flora and Rose at the ball of 
 Holyrood, was placed by the Chevalier to the account of the latter ; 
 and he concluded that the Baron's views about the settlement of 
 his property, or some such obstacle, thwarted their mutual in- 
 clinations. Common fame, it is true, frequently gave Waverley to 
 Miss Mac-Ivor ; but the Prince knew that common fame is verj' 
 prodigal in such gifts ; and, watching attentively the behaviour of 
 the ladies towards Waverley, he had no doubt that the young 
 Englishman had no interest with Flora, and was beloved by Rose 
 Bradwardine. Desirous to bind Waverley to his service, and 
 
364 WAVERLEY. 
 
 wishing also to do a kind and friendly action, the Prince next 
 assailed the Baron on the subject of settling his estate upon his 
 daughter. Mr. Bradwardine acquiesced ; but the consequence 
 was, that Fergus was immediately induced to prefer his double 
 suit for a wife and an earldom, which the Prince rejected in the 
 manner we have seen. The Chevalier, constantly engaged 
 in his own multiplied affairs, had not hitherto sought any 
 explanation with Waverley, though often meaning to do so. But 
 after Fergus's declaration, he saw the necessity of appearing 
 neutral between the rivals, devoutly hoping that the matter, which 
 now seemed fraught with the seeds of strife, might be pemiitted to 
 lie over till the termination of the expedition. When on the march 
 to Derby, Fergus, being questioned concerning his quarrel with 
 Waverley, alleged as the cause, that Edward was desirous of 
 retracting the suit he had made to his sister, the Chevalier plainly 
 told him, that he had himself observed Miss Mac-Ivor's behaviour 
 to Waverley, and that he was convinced Fergus was under the in- 
 fluence of a mistake in judging of Waverley s conduct, who, he had 
 every reason to believe, was engaged to Miss Bradwardine. The 
 quarrel which ensued between Edward and the chieftain is, I hope, 
 still in the remembrance of the reader. These circumstances will 
 serve to explain such points of our narrative as, according to the 
 custom of story-tellers, we deemed it fit to leave unexplained, for 
 the purpose of exciting the reader's curiosity. 
 
 When Janet had once finished the leading facts of this narrative, 
 Waverley was easily enabled to apply the clew which they afforded, 
 to other mazes of the labyrinth in which he had been engaged. To 
 Rose Bradwardine, then, he owed the life which he now thought he 
 could willingly have laid down to serve her. A little reflection 
 convinced him, however, that to live for her sake was more con- 
 venient and agreeable, and that, being possessed of independence, 
 she might share it vnth him either in foreign countries or in his 
 own. The pleasure of being allied to a man of the Baron's high 
 worth, and who was so much valued by his uncle Sir Everard, was 
 also an agreeable consideration, had anything been wanting to 
 recommend the match. His absurdities, which had appeared 
 grotesquely ludicrous during his prosperity, seemed, in the sunset 
 of his fortune, to be harmonized and assimilated with the noble 
 features of his character, so as to add peculiarity without exciting 
 ridicule. His mind occupied with such projects of future happiness, 
 Edward sought Little Veolan, the habitation of Mr., Duncan 
 Macwheeble. 
 
\, 
 
 -I 
 
 ^ 
 
 .^ 
 
WAVERLEY. 365 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 
 " Now is Cupid a child of conscience — he makes restitution."— 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Mr. Duncan MaCWHEEBLE, no longer Commissary or Bailie, 
 though still enjoying the empty name of the latter dignity, had 
 escaped proscription by an early secession from the insurgent 
 party, and by his insignificance. 
 
 Edward found him in his office, immersed among papers and 
 accounts. Before him was a large bicker of oatmeal-porridge, and 
 at the side thereof a hornspoon and a bottle of two-penny. Eagerty 
 running his eye over a voluminous law-paper, he from time to time 
 shovelled an immense spoonful of these nutritive viands into his 
 capacious mouth. A pot-bellied Dutch bottle of brandy which 
 stood by, intimated either that this honest limb of the law had 
 taken his morning already, or that he meant to season his porridge 
 with such digestive ; or perhaps both circumstances might 
 reasonably be inferred. His night-cap and morning-gown had 
 whilome been of tartan, but, equally cautious and frugal, the honest 
 Bailie had got them dyed black, lest their original ill-omened 
 colour might remind his visitors of his unlucky excursion to Derby. 
 To sum up the picture, his face was daubed with snuff up to the 
 eyes, and his fingers with ink up to the knuckles. He looked 
 dubiously at Waverley as he approached the little green rail 
 -which fenced his desk and stool from the approach of the vulgar. 
 Nothing could give the Bailie more annoyance than the idea of 
 his acquaintance being claimed by any of the unfortunate gentle- 
 men who were now so much more likely to need assistance than to 
 afford profit. But this was the rich young Englishman— who knew 
 what might be his situation ? — he was the Baron's friend too — what 
 was to be done ? 
 
 While these reflections gave an air of absurd perplexity to the 
 poor man's visage, Waverley, reflecting on the communication he 
 was about to make to him, of a nature so ridiculously contrasted 
 with the appearance of the individual, could not help bursting out 
 a-laughing, as he checked the propensity to exclaim, with Syphax— - 
 
 " Cato's a proper person to intrust 
 A love-tale with." 
 
 As Mr. Macwheeble had no idea of any person laughing heartily 
 who was either encircled by peril or oppressed by poverty, the 
 hilarity of Edward's countenance greatly relieved the embarrass- 
 
366 WAVERLEY. 
 
 ment of his own, and, giving him a tolerably hearty welcome to 
 Little Veolan, he asked what he would choose for breakfast. His 
 visitor had, in the first place, something for his private ear, and 
 begged leave to bolt the door. Duncan by no means liked this 
 precaution, which savoured of danger to be apprehended ; but he 
 could not now draw back. 
 
 Convinced he might trust this man, as he could make it his 
 interest to be faithful, Edward communicated his present situation 
 and future schemes to Macwheeble. The wily agent listened with 
 apprehension when he found Waverley was still in a state of pro- 
 scription — was somewhat comforted by learning that he had a 
 passport — rubbed his hands with glee when he mentioned the 
 amount; of his present fortune — opened huge eyes when he heard 
 the brilliancy of his future expectations — ^but when he expressed 
 his intention to share them with Miss Rose Bradwardine, ecstasy 
 had almost deprived the honest man of his senses. The Bailie 
 started from his three-footed stool like the Pythoness from her 
 tripod ; flung his best wig out of the window, because the block 
 on which it was placed stood in the way of his career ; chucked his 
 cap to the ceiling, caught it as it fell ; whistled TuUochgorum ; 
 danced a highland fling with inimitable grace and agility ; and then 
 thi-ew himself exhausted into a chair, exclaiming, "Lady Wauverley ! 
 — ten thousand a-year, the least penny ! — Lord preserve my poor 
 understanding ! " — 
 
 "Amen, with all my heart," said Waverley; "but now, 
 Mr. Macwheeble, let us proceed to .business." This word had a 
 somewhat sedative effect, but the Bailie's head, as he expressed 
 himself, was still "in the bees." He mended his pen, however, 
 marked half a dozen sheets of paper with an ample marginal 
 fold, whipped down Dallas of St. Martin's Styles from a shelf, 
 where that venerable work roosted with Stair's Institutions, 
 Dirleton's Doubts, Balfour's Practiques, and a parcel of old 
 account-books — opened the volume at the article Contract of 
 Marriage, and prepared to make what he called a " sma' minute, 
 to prevent parties frae resiling." 
 
 With some difficulty, Waverley made him comprehend that he 
 was going a little too fast. He explained to him that he should 
 want his assistance, in the first place, to made his residence safe 
 for the time, by writing to the officer at Tully- Veolan, that 
 Mr. Stanley, an EngKsh gentleman, nearly related to Colonel 
 Talbot, was upon a visit of business at Mr. Macwheeble's, and, 
 knowing the state of the country, had sent his passport for Captain 
 Foster's inspection. This produced a polite answer from the 
 ofiicer, with an invitation tf; Mr. Stanley to dine with him, which 
 
WAVERLEY. 367 
 
 was declined (as may easily- be supposed), under pretence of 
 business. 
 
 Waverle/s next request was, that Mr. Macwheeble would dis- 
 patch a man and horse to , the post-town at which Colonel 
 
 Talbot was to address him, with directions to wait there until the 
 post should bring a letter for Mr. Stanley, and then to forward it 
 to Little Veolan with all speed. In a moment, the Bailie was in 
 ■search of his apprentice (or servitor, as he was called Sixty Years 
 since), Jock Scriever, and in not much greater space of time Jock 
 was on the back of the white pony. 
 
 " Tak care ye guide him weel, sir, for he's aye been short in the 
 wind since — ahem — Lord be 'gude to me ! (in a low voice) I was 
 gaun to come out wi'. — since I rode whip and spur to fetch the 
 Chevalier to redd Mr. Wauverley and Vich Ian Vohr ; and an 
 xmcanny coup I gat for my pains. — Lord forgie your honour ! I 
 might hae broken my neck — but troth it was in a venture, mae 
 ways nor ane ; but this maks amends for a'. Lady Wauverley ! — 
 ten thousand a-year ! — Lord be gude unto me ! " 
 
 " But you forget, Mr. Macwheeble, we want the Baron's consent 
 —the lady's " 
 
 " Never fear, I'se be caution for them — I'se gie you my personal 
 warrandice — ten thousand a-year ! it dings Balmawhapple out and 
 out — a year's rent's worth a' Balmawhapple, fee and life-rent ! 
 Lord make us thankful ! " 
 
 To turn the current of his feelings, Edward inquired if he had 
 heard anything lately of the Chieftain of Glennaquoich ? 
 
 " Not one word," answered Macwheeble, " but that he was still 
 in Carlisle Castle, and was soon to be panelled for his life. I dinna 
 wish the young gentleman ill," he said, " but I hope that they that 
 hae got him will keep him, and no let him back to this Hieland 
 border to plague us wi' black-mail, and a' manner o' violent, 
 wrongous, and masterfu' oppression and spoliation, both by himself 
 and others of his causing, sending, and hounding out ; and he 
 couldna tak care o' the siller when he had gotten it neither, but 
 flung it a' into yon idle quean's lap at Edinburgh— but light come 
 light gane. For my part, I never wish to see a kilt in the country 
 again, nor a red-coat, nor a gun, for that matter, unless it were to 
 shoot a paitrick :— they're a' tarr'd wi' ae stick And when they 
 have done ye wrang, even when ye hae gotten decreet of spuilzie, 
 oppression, and violent profits against them, what better are ye?— 
 they hae na a plack to pay ye ; ye need never extract it." 
 
 With such discourse, and the intervening topics of business, the 
 time passed until dinner, Macwheeble meanwhile promising ts 
 ■devise some mode of introducing Edward, at the Duchran, where 
 
368 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Rose at present resided, without risk of danger or suspicion ; which 
 seemed no very easy task, since the laird was a very zealous friend 
 to Government. — The poultry-yard had been laid under requisition, 
 and cock^leeky and Scotch coUops soon reeked in the Bailie's little 
 parlour. The landlord's corkscrew was just introduced into the 
 muzzle of a pint bottle of claret (cribbed possibly from the cellars 
 of TuUy-Veolan), when the sight of the grey pony, passing the 
 window at full trot, induced the Bailie, but with due precaution, to 
 place it aside for the moment. Enter Jock Scriever with a packet 
 for Mr. Stanley : it is Colonel Talbot's seal ; and Edward's fingers 
 tremble as he undoes it. Two official papers, folded, signed, and 
 sealed in all formality, drop out. They were hastily picked up by 
 the Bailie, who had a natural respect for everything resembling a 
 deed, and, glancing slily on their titles, his eyes, or rather spec- 
 tacles, are greeted with " Protection by his Royal Highness to the 
 person of Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esq., of that ilk, commonly 
 called Baron of Bradwardine, forfeited for his accession to the late 
 rebellion." The other proves to be a protection of the same tenor 
 in favour of Edward Waverley, Esq. Colonel Talbot's letter was 
 in these words :— 
 
 " My Dear Edward, 
 " I am just arrived here, and yet I have finished my business ; 
 it has cost me some trouble though, as you shall hear. I waited 
 upon his Royal Highness immediately on my arrival, and found 
 him in no very good humour for my purpose. Three or four Scotch 
 gentlemen were just leaving his levee. After he had expressed 
 himself to me very courteously ; ' Would you think it,' he said, 
 'Talbot? here have been half a dozen of the most respectable 
 gentlemen, and best friends to Government north of the Fortt, 
 Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, Rubrick of Duchran, and others, 
 who have fairly wrung from me, by their downright importunity, a 
 present protection, and the promise of a future pardon, for that 
 stubborn old rebel whom they call Baron of Bradwardine. They 
 allege that his high personal character, and the clemency which he 
 showed to such of our people as fell into the rebels' hands, should 
 weigh in his favour ; especially as the loss of his estate is likely to 
 be a severe enough punishment. Rubrick has undertaken to keep 
 him at his own house tiU things are settled in the country ; but it's 
 a little hard to be forced in a manner to pardon such a mortal 
 enemy to the House of Brunswick.' This was no favourable 
 moment for opening my business ; however, I- said I was rejoiced 
 to learn that his Royal Highness was in the course of granting 
 such requests, as it emboldened me to present one of the like 
 nature in my own name. He was very angry, but I persisted ; I 
 
WAVERLEY. 369 
 
 mentioned the uniform support of our three votes in the house, 
 touched modestly on services' abroad, though valuable only in his 
 Royal Higimess's having been pleased Idndly to accept them, and 
 founded pretty strongly on his own expressions of friendship and 
 good-wilL He was embarrassed, but obstinate. I hinted the 
 policy of detaching, on all future occasions, the heir of such a 
 fortune as your uncle's from the machinations of the disaffected. 
 But I made no impression. I mentioned the obligations which I 
 lay under to Sir Everard, and to you personally, and claimed, as 
 the sole reward of my services, that he would be pleased to afford 
 me the means of evincing my gratitude. I perceived that he still 
 meditated a refusal, and, taking my commission from my pocket, I 
 said (as a last resource), that as his Royal Highness did not, 
 under these pressing circumstances, think me worthy of a favour 
 ■which he had not scrupled to grant to other gentlemen, whose 
 services I could hardly judge more important than my own, I must 
 beg leave to deposit, with all humility, my commission in his 
 Royal Highness's hands, and to retire from the service. He was 
 not prepared for this ; he told me to take up my commission ; said 
 some handsome things of my services, and granted my request. 
 You are therefore once more a free man, and I have promised for 
 you that you will be a good boy in future, and remember what you 
 owe to the lenity of Government. Thus you see my prince can 
 be as generous as yours. I do not pretend, indeed, that he con- 
 fers a favour with all the foreign graces and compliments of your 
 Chevalier errant ; but he has a plain English manner, and' the 
 evident reluctance with which he grants your request, indicates the 
 sacrifice which he makes of his own inclination to your wishes. 
 My friend, the adjutant-general, has procured me a duplicate of 
 the Baron's protection (the original being in Major Melville's pos- 
 session), which I send to you, as I know that if you can find him 
 you will have pleasure in being the first to communicate the joyful 
 intelligence. He will of course repair to the Duchran without loss 
 of time, there to ride quarantine for a few weeks. As for you, I 
 give you leave to escort him thither, and to stay a week there, as I 
 understand a certain fair lady is in that quarter. And I have the 
 pleasure to tell you, that whatever progress you can make in her 
 good graces will be highly agreeable to Sir Everard and Mrs. 
 Rachel, who will never believe your views and prospects settled, 
 and the three ermines passant in actual safety, until you present 
 them with a Mrs. Edward Waverley. Now, certain love affairs of 
 my own — a good many years since — interrupted some measures 
 vyhich were then proposed in favour of the three ermines passant ; 
 so I am bound in honour to make them amends. Therefore make 
 
 A A,. 
 
3'/o WAVERLEY. 
 
 good use of your time, for, when your week is expired, it will be 
 necessary that you go to London to plead your pardon in the law 
 courts. 
 
 " Ever, dear Waverley, yours most truly, ', 
 
 "Philip Talbot." 
 
 CHAPTER LXVII. 
 
 Happy's the wooing 
 That's not long a-doing. 
 
 When the first rapturous sensation occasioned by these excellent 
 tidings had somewhat subsided, Edward proposed instantly to go 
 down to the glen to acquaint the Baron with their import. But 
 the cautious Bailie justly observed, that if the Baron were to appear 
 instantly in public, the tenantry and villagers might become riotous 
 in expressing their joy, and give offence to " the powers that be," a 
 sort of persons for whom the Bailie always had unlimited respect. 
 He therefore proposed that Mr. Waverley should go to Janet 
 Gellatiey's, and bring the Baron up under cloud of night to Little 
 Veolan, where he might once more enjoy the luxury of a good bed. 
 In the meanwhile, he said, he himself would go to Captain Foster, 
 and show him the Baron's protection, and obtain his countenance 
 for harbouring him thajt night, and he would have horses ready on 
 the morrow to set him on his way to the Duchran along with Mr. 
 Stanley, " wliilk denomination, I apprehend, your honour wiU for 
 the present retain," said the Bailie. 
 
 Certainly, Mr. Macwheeble ; but wiU you not go down to the 
 glen yourself in the evening to meet your patron ? " 
 
 " That I wad wi' a' my heart ; and mickle obliged to your honour 
 for putting me in mind o' my bounden duty. But it will be past 
 sunset afore I get back frae the Captain'Sj and at these unsonsy 
 hours the glen has a bad name— there's something no that canny 
 about auld Janet Gellatl'ey. The Laird he'll no believe thae things, 
 but he was aye ower rash and venturesome — and feared neither 
 man nor deevil— and sae's seen o't. But right sure am I Sir George 
 Mackenzie says, that no divine can doubt there are witches, since 
 the Bible says thou shalt not suffer them to live ; and that no 
 lawyer in Scotland can doubt it, since it is punishable with death 
 by our law. So there's baith law and gospel for it. An his honour 
 winna believe the Leviticus, he might aye believe the Statute-book 
 — but he may tak his ain way o't ; it's a' ane to Duncan Macwhee- 
 ble. However, I shall send to ask up auld Janet this e'en ; it's 
 Best no to lightly them that have that character— and we'll want 
 
WAVERLEY. 371 
 
 Davie to turn the spit, for I'll gar Eppie put down a fat goose to 
 the fire for your lionours to your supper." 
 
 When it was near sunset, Waverley hastened to the hut ; and he 
 could not but allow that superstition had chosen no improper 
 locality, or unfit object, for the foundation of her fantastic terrors. 
 It resembled exactly the description of Spenser : 
 
 " There, in a gloomy hollow glen, she found 
 
 A little cottage built of sticks and reeds, 
 In homely wise, and wall'd with sods around, 
 
 In which a witch did dwell in loathly weeds, 
 And wilful want, all careless of her needs ; 
 
 So choosing solitai-y to abide 
 Far from all neighbours, that her devilish deeds, 
 
 And hellish arts, from people she might hide, 
 And hurt far off, unknown, whomsoever she espied." 
 
 He entered the cottage with these verses in his memory. Poor 
 old Janet, bent double with age, and bleared with peat smoke, was 
 tottering about the hut with a birch broom, muttering to herself as 
 she endeavoured to make her hearth and floor a little clean for the 
 reception of her expected guests. Waverley's step made her start, 
 look up, and fall a-trembling, so much had her nerves been on the 
 rack for her patron's safety. With difficulty Waverley made her 
 comprehend that the Baron was now safe from personal danger ; 
 and when her mind had admitted that joyful news, it was equally 
 .lard to make her believe that he was not to enter again upon pos- 
 session of his estate. " It behoved to be," she said, " he wad get it 
 back again; naebody wad be sae gripple as to tak his gear after 
 they had gi'en him a pardon : and for that Inch-Grabbit, I could 
 whiles wish mysell a witch for his sake, if I werena feared the 
 Enemy wad tak me at my word." Waverley then gave her some 
 money, and promised that her fidelity should be rewarded. " How 
 can I be rewarded, sir, sae weel, as just to see my auld maister and 
 Miss Rose come back and bruik their ain ? " 
 
 Waverley now took leave of Janet, and soon stood beneath the 
 Baron's Patmos. At a low whistle, he observed the veteran peep- 
 ing out to reconnoitre, like an old badger with his head out of his 
 hole. " Ye hae come rather early, my good lad," said he, descend- 
 ing ; " I question if the red-coats hae beat the tattoo yet, and we're 
 ■ not safe till then." 
 
 " Good news cannot be told too soon," said Waverley ; and with 
 infinite joy communicated to him the happy tidings. The old man 
 stood for a moment in silent devotion, then exclaimed, " Praise be 
 to God ! — I shall see my bairn again." 
 
 " And never, I hope, to part with her more," said Waverley. 
 
 A A 2 
 
372 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " I trust in God, not, unless it be to win the means of supporting 
 her ; for my things are but in a bruckle state ; — but what signifies 
 warld's gear ! " , 
 
 " And if," said Waverley modestly, " there were a situation in 
 life which would put Miss Bradwardine beyond the uncertainty of 
 fortune, and in the rank to which she was born, would you object ta 
 it, my dear Baron, because it would make one of your friends the 
 happiest man in the world ? " The Baron turned, and looked at 
 him with great earnestness. _" Yes," continued Edward, " I shall 
 not consider my sentence of banishment as repealed, unless yoii 
 will give me permission to accompany you to the Duchran 
 
 and " 
 
 The Baron seemed collecting all his dignity to make a suitable 
 reply to" what, at another time, he would have treated as the pro- 
 pounding a treat)"" of alliance between the houses of Bradwardine 
 and Waverley. But his efforts were in vain ; the father was too 
 mighty for the Baron ; the pride of birth and rank were swept 
 away ; — in the joyful surprise, a slight convulsion passed rapidly 
 over his features, as he gave way to the feelings of nature, threw 
 his arms around Waverley's neck, and sobbed out, — " My son ! my 
 son ! if I had been to search the world, I would have made my 
 choice here." Edward returned the embrace with great sympathy 
 of feeling, and for a little while they both kept silence. At length 
 it was broken by Edward. " But Miss Bradwardine ! " 
 
 " She had never a will but her old father's ; besides, you are a 
 likely youth, of honest principles, and high birth ; no, she never 
 had any other will than mine, and in my proudest days I could not 
 have wished a mair eligible espousal for her than the nephew of 
 my excellent old friend, Sir Everard. — But I hope, young man, ye 
 deal na rashly in this matter .■' I hope ye liae secured the approba- 
 tion of your ain friends and allies, particularly of your uncle, who' 
 is in loco parentis? Ah! we maun talc' heed o' that." Edward 
 assured him that Sir Everard would think himself highly honoured 
 in the flattering reception his proposal had met with, and that it 
 had his entire approbation ; in evidence of which he put Colonel 
 Talbot's letter into the Baron's hand. The Baron read it with 
 great attention. " Sir Everard," he said, " always despised wesflth 
 in comparison of honour and birth ; and indeed he hath no occa- 
 sion to court the Diva Pecitnia. Yet 1 now wish, since this Mal- 
 colm turns out such a pan-icide, for I can call him no better, as to 
 think of alienating the family inheritance — I now wish (his eyes- 
 fixed on a part of the roof which was visible above the trees) that I 
 could have left Rose the auld hurley-house, and the riggs belanging- 
 to it. — And yet," said he, resuming more cheerfully, " it's maybe as 
 
WAVERLEY. 373 
 
 weel as it is ; for, as Baron of Bradwardine, I might have thought 
 it my duty to insist upon certain compliances respecting name and 
 bearings, whilk now, as a landless laird wi' a tocherless daughter, 
 no one can blame me for departing from." 
 
 " Now, Heaven be praised ! " thought Edward, " that Sir Everard 
 does not hear these scruples ! The three ermines passant and 
 rampant bear would certainly have gone together by the ears." He 
 then, with all the ardour of a young lover, assured the Baron, that 
 be sought for his happiness only in Rose's heart and hand, and 
 thought himself as happy in her father's simple approbation, as if 
 he had settled an earldom upon his daughter. 
 
 They now reached Little Veolan. The goose was smoking on 
 the table, and the Bailie brandished his knife and fork. A joyous 
 greeting took place between him and his patron. The kitchen, 
 too, had its company. Auld Janet was established at the ingle- 
 nook ; Davie had turned the spit to his immortal honour ; and even 
 Ban and Buscar, in the liberality of Macwheeble's joy, had been 
 stuffed to the throat with food, and now lay snoring on the floor. 
 
 The next day conducted the Baron and his young friend to the 
 Duchran, where the former was expected, in consequence of the 
 success of the nearly unanimous application of the Scottish friends 
 of Government in his favour. This had been so general and so 
 powerful, that it was almost thought his estate might have been 
 saved, had it not passed into the rapacious hands of his unworthy 
 kinsman, whose right, arising out of the Baron's attainder, could 
 not be affected by a pardon from the crown. The old gentleman, 
 however, said, with his usual spirit, he was more gratified by the 
 hold he possessed in the good opinion of his neighbours, than he 
 would have been in being " rehabilitated and restored in integrum, 
 had it been found practicable." 
 
 We shall not attempt to describe the meeting of the father and 
 daughter, — loving each other so affectionately, and separated under 
 such perilous circumstances. Still less shaU we attempt to analyze 
 the deep blush of Rose, at receiving the compliments of Waverley, 
 or stop to inquire whether she had any curiosity respecting the 
 particular cause of his journey to Scotland at that period'. We 
 shall not even trouble the reader with the humdrum , details of a 
 courtship Sixty Years since. It is enough to say, that, under so 
 strict a martinet as the Baron, all things were conducted in due , 
 form. He took upon himself, the morning after their arrival, the 
 task of announcing the proposal of Waverley to Rose, which she 
 heard with a proper degree of maiden timidity. Fame does, how- 
 ever, say that Waverley had, the evening before, found five minutes 
 to apprize her of what was coming, while the rest of the company 
 
374 WAVERLEY. 
 
 were looking at three twisted serpents, which formed ^jet d'eau in 
 the garden. 
 
 My fair readers will judge for themselves ; but, for my part, I 
 cannot conceive how so important an affair could be communicated 
 in so short a space of time ; at least, it certainly took a full hour in 
 the Baron's mode of conveying it. 
 
 Waverley was now considered as a received lover in all the forms. 
 He was made, by dint of smirking and nodding on the part of the 
 lady of the house, to sit next Miss Bradwardine at dinner, to be 
 Miss Bradwardine's partner at cards. If he came into the room, 
 she of the four Miss Rubricks who chanced to be next Rose, was 
 sure to recollect that her thimble or her scissors, were at the other 
 end of the room, in order to leave the seat nearest to Miss Brad- 
 wardine vacant for his occupation. And sometimes, if papa and 
 mamma were not in the way to keep them on their good behaviour, 
 the misses would titter a little. The old Laird of Duchran would 
 also have his occasional jest, and the old lady her remark. Even 
 the Baron could not refrain ; but here Rose escaped every embar- 
 rassment but that of conjecture, for his wit was usually couched in 
 a Latin quotation. The very footmen sometimes grinned too 
 broadly, the maid-servants giggled mayhap too loud, and a pro- 
 voking air of intelligence seemed to pervade the whole family. 
 Alice Bean, the pretty maid of the cavern, who, after her father's 
 misfortune, as she called it, had attended Rose as filU-de-chambre, 
 smiled and smirked with the best of them. Rose and Edward, 
 however, endured all these little vexatious circumstances as other 
 folks have done before and since, and probably contrived to obtain 
 some indemnification, since they are not supposed, on the whole, 
 to have been particularly unhappy during Waverley's six days' stay 
 at the Duchran. 
 
 It was finally arranged that Edward should go to Waverley- 
 Honour to make the necessary arrangements for his marriage, 
 thence to London to take the proper measures for pleading his 
 pardon, and return as soon as possible to claim the hand of his 
 plighted bride. He also intended in his journey to visit Colonel 
 Talbot ; but, above all, it was his most important object to learn 
 the fate of the unfortunate Chief of Glennaquoich ; to visit him at 
 Carlisle, and to try whether anything could be done for procuring, if 
 not a pardon, a commutation at least, or alleviation, of the punish- 
 ment to which he was almost certain of being condemned ; and, in 
 case of the worst, to offer the miserable Flora an asylum with Rose, 
 or otherwise to assist her views in any mode which might seem 
 possible. The fate of Fergus seemed hard to be averted. Edward 
 had already striven to interest his friend, Colonel Talbot, in hij 
 
WAVERLEY. 375 
 
 behalf; but had been given distinctly to understand, by his reply, 
 that his credit in matters of that nature was totally.exhausted. 
 
 The Colonel was still in Edinburgh, and proposed to wait there 
 for some months upon business confided to him by the Duke o' 
 Cumberland. He was to be joined by Lady Emily, to whom easy 
 travelling and goat's whey were recommended, and who was to 
 iourney northward, under the escort of Francis Stanley. Edward, 
 therefore, met the Colonel at Edinburgh, who wished him joy in 
 the kindest manner on his approaching happiness, and cheerfully 
 undertook many commissions which our hero was necessarily 
 obliged to delegate to his charge. But on the subject of Fergus he 
 was inexorable. He satisfied Edward, indeed, that his interference 
 would be unavailing ; but, besides. Colonel Talbot owned that he 
 could not conscientiously use any influence in favour of that un- 
 fortunate gentleman. " Justice," he said, " which demanded some 
 penalty of those who had wrapped the whole nation in fear and in 
 mourning, could not perhaps have selected a fitter victim. He 
 came to the field with the fullest light upon the nature of his 
 attempt. He had studied and understood the subject. His father's 
 fate could not intimidate him ; the lenity of the laws which had 
 restored to him his father's property and rights could not melt 
 him. That he was brave, generous, and possessed many good 
 qualities, only rendered him the more dangerous ; that he was 
 enlightened and accomplished, made his crime the less excusable.; 
 that he was an enthusiast in a wrong cause, only made him the 
 more fit to be its martyr. Above all, he had been the means of 
 bringing many hundreds of men into the field, who, without him, 
 would never have broken the peace of the country. 
 
 "I repeat it," said the Colonel, "though Heaven knows with_a 
 heart distressed for him as an individual, that this young gentle- 
 man has studied and fully understood the desperate game which 
 he has played. He threw for life or death, a coronet or a coffin; 
 and he cannot now be permitted, with justice to the country, to 
 draw stakes because the dice have gone against him." 
 
 Such was the reasoning of those times, held even by brave and 
 humane men towards a vanquished enemy. Let us devoutly hope, 
 that, in this respect, at least, we shall never see the scenes, or hold 
 the sentiments, that were general in Britain Sixty Years since. 
 
376 WAVERLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIII. 
 
 To-morrow ! O that's sudden ! — Spare him ! spare him ! 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Edward, attended by his former servant Alick Polwarth, who 
 had re-entered his service at Edinburgh, reached Carhsle whUe 
 the commission of Oyer and Terminer on his unfortunate asso- 
 ciates was yet sitting. He had pushed forward in haste, not, alas ! 
 with the most distant hope of saving Fergus, but to see him for the 
 last time. I ought to have mentioned, that he had furnished funds 
 for the defence of the prisoners in the most liberal manner, as soon 
 as he heard that the day of trial was fixed. A solicitor, and the 
 first counsel, accordingly attended ; but it was upon the same foot- 
 ing on which the first physicians are usually summoned to the bed- 
 side of some dying man of rank ; the doctors to take the advan- 
 tage of some incalculable chance of an exertion of nature — the 
 lawyers to avail themselves of the barely possible occurrence of 
 some legal flaw. Edward pressed into the court, which was ex- 
 tremely crowded ; but by his arriving from the north, and his 
 extreme eagerness and agitation, it was supposed he was a relation 
 of the prisoners, and people made way for him. It was the third 
 sitting of the court, and there were two men at the bai-. The ver- 
 dict of Guilty was already pronounced. Edward just glanced at 
 the bar during the momentous pause which ensued. There was no 
 mistaking the stately form and noble features of Fergus Mac-Ivor, 
 although his dress was squalid, and his countenance tinged with 
 the sickly yellow hue of long and close imprisonment. By his side 
 was Evan Maccombich. Edward felt sick and dizzy as he gazed 
 on them ; but he was recalled to himself as the Clerk of Arraigns 
 pronounced the solemn words : " Fergus Mac- Ivor of Glenna-' 
 quoich, otherwise called Vich Ian Vohr, and Evan Mac-Ivor, in 
 the Dhu of Tarrascleugh, otherwise called Evan Dhu, otherwise 
 called Evan Maccombich, or Evan Dhu Maccombich — you, and 
 each of you, stand attainted of high treason. What have you to 
 say for yourselves why the Court should not pronounce judgment 
 against you, that you die according to law ?" 
 
 Fergus, as the presiding Judge was putting on the fatal cap of 
 judgment, placed his own bonnet upon his head, regarded him with 
 a steadfast and stem look, and replied in a firm voice, " I cannot 
 let this numerous audience suppose that to such an appeal I have 
 no answer to make. But what I have to say, you would not bear to 
 hear, for my defence would be your condemnation. Proceed, then, 
 in the name of God, to do what is permitted to you. Yesterday, 
 
WAVERLEY. 377 
 
 and the day before, you have condemned loyal and honourable 
 blood to be poured forth like water. Spare not mine. Were that 
 of all my ancestors in my veins, I would have peril'd it in this 
 quarrel," He resumed his seat, and refused again to rise. 
 __ Evan Maccombich looked at him with great earnestness, and^. 
 nsmg up, seemed anxious to speak ; but the confusion of the court, 
 and the perplexity arising from thinking in a language different 
 from that in which he was to express himself, kept him silent. 
 There was a murmur of compassion among the spectators, from the 
 idea that the poor fellow intended to plead the influence of his 
 superior as an excuse for his crime. The Judge commanded 
 silence, and encouraged Evan to proceed. 
 
 I was only ganging to say, my lord," said Evan, in what he 
 meant to be in an insinuating manner, "that if your excellent 
 honour, and the honourable Court, would let Vich Ian Vohr go free 
 just this once, and let him gae back to France, 'and no to trouble 
 King George's government again, that ony six o' the very best of 
 his clan wiU be willing to be justified in his stead ; and if you'll 
 just let me gae down to Glennaquoich, I'll fetch them up to ye 
 mysell, to head or hang, and you may begin wi' me the very first 
 man." 
 
 Notwithstanding the solemnity of the occasion, a sort of laugh 
 was heard in the court at the extraordinary nature of the proposal. 
 The Judge checked this indecency, and Evan, looking sternly 
 around, when the murmur abated, " If the Saxon gentlemen are 
 laughing," he said, " because a poor man, such as me, thinks my 
 life, or the life of six of my degree, is worth that of Vich Ian Vohr, 
 it's like enough they may be very right ; but if they laugh because 
 they think I would not keep my word, and come back to redeem 
 him, I can tell them they ken neither the heart of a Hielandman, 
 nor the honour of a gentleman." 
 
 There was no further inclination to laugh among the audience, 
 and a dead silence ensued. 
 
 The Judge then pronounced upon both prisoners the sentence of 
 the law of high treason, with all its hwTible accompaniments. The 
 execution was appointed for the ensuing day. " For you, Fergus 
 Mac-Ivor," continued the Judge, " I can hold out no hope of mercy- 
 You must prepare against to-morrow for your last sufferings here, 
 and your great audit hereafter." 
 
 " I desire nothing else, my lord," answered Fergus, in the same 
 manly and firm tone. 
 
 The hard eyes of Evan, which had been perpetually bent on his 
 Chief, were moistened with a tear. " For you, poor ignorant man,^ 
 continued the Judge, " who, following the ideas in which you have 
 
37S WAVERLEY. 
 
 been educated, have this day given us a striking example how the 
 loyalty due to the king and state alone, is, from your unhappy ideas 
 of clanship, transferred to some ambitious individual, who ends by 
 making you the tool of his crimes — for you, I say, I feel so much 
 compassion, that if you will make up your mind to petition for 
 grace, I will endeavour to procure it for you. Otherwise " 
 
 " Grace me no grace," said Evan ; "since you are to shed Vich 
 Ian Vohr's blood, the only favour I would accept from you, is — to- 
 bid them loose my hands and gie me my claymore, and bide you 
 just a minute sitting where you are ! " 
 
 " Remove the prisoners," said the Jud^e ; " his blood be upon 
 his own head." 
 
 Almost stupified with his feehngs, Edward found that the rush of 
 the crowd had conveyed him out into the sf-eet, ere he knew what 
 he was doing. His immediate wish was to see and speak with 
 Fergus once more. He applied at the Castle where his unfortunate 
 friend was confined, but was refused admittance. " The High 
 Sheriff," a non-commissioned officer said, " had requested of the 
 governor that none should be admitted to see the prisoner except- 
 ing his confessor and his sister." 
 
 " And where was Miss Mac-Ivor ? " They gave him the direc- 
 tion. It was the house of a respectable Catholic family near- 
 Carlisle. 
 
 Repulsed from the gate of the Castle, and not venturing to make 
 application to the High Sheriff or Judges in his own unpopular 
 name, he had recourse to the solicitor who came down in Fergus's 
 behalf. This gentleman told him, that it was thought the public- 
 mind was in danger of being debauched by the account of the last 
 moments of these persons, as given by the friends of the Pretender ;. 
 that there had beeii a resolution, therefore, to exclude all such 
 persons as had not the plea of near kindred for attending upon 
 them. Yet, he promised (to oblige the heir of Waverley-Honour) 
 to get him an order for admittance to the prisoner the next morn- 
 ing, before his irons were knocked off for execution. 
 
 " Is it of Fergus Mac-Ivor they speak thus," thought Waverley,. 
 "or do I dream? Of Fergus, the bold, the chivalrous, the free- 
 minded ? the lofty chieftain of a tribe devoted to him ? Is it he, 
 that I have seen lead the chase and head the attack, — the brave,, 
 the active, the young, the noble, the love of ladies, and the theme 
 of song, — is it he who is ironed like a malefactor ; who is to be 
 dragged on a hurdle to the common gallows ; to die a lingering and 
 cruel death, a nd to be mangled by the hand of the most outcast 
 of wretches ? Evil indeed was the spectre that boded such a fate 
 as this to the brave Chief of Glennaquoich ? " 
 
WAVERLEY. 379- 
 
 With a faltering voice he requested the solicitor to find means to 
 warn Fergus of his intended visit, should he obtain permission to 
 make it. He then turned away from him, and, returning to the inn, 
 wrote a scarcely intelligible note to Flora Mac-Ivor, intimating his 
 purpose to wait upon her that evening. The messenger brought 
 back a letter in Flora's beautiful Italian hand, which seemed scarce 
 to tremble even under this load of misery. " Miss Flora Mac-Ivor," 
 the letter bore, " could not refuse to see the dearest friend of her 
 dear brother, even in her present circumstances of unparalleled 
 distress." 
 
 When Edward reached Miss Mac-Ivor's present place of abode> 
 he was instantly admitted. In a large and gloomy tapestried apart- 
 ment. Flora was seated by a latticed window, sewing what seemed 
 to be a garment of white flanneh At a little distance sat an elderly 
 woman, apparently a foreigner, and of a religious order. She was 
 reading in a book of Catholic devotion ; but when Waverley 
 entered, laid it on the table, and left the room. Flora rose to re- 
 ceive him, and stretched out her hand, but neither ventured tO' 
 attempt speech. Her fine complexion was totally gone ; her person 
 considerably emaciated ; and her face and hands as white as the 
 purest statuary marble, forming a strong contrast with her sable 
 dress and jet-black hair, Yet, amid these marks of distress, there 
 was nothing negligent or ill-arranged about her attire ; even her 
 hair, though totally without ornament, was disposed with her usual 
 attention to neatness. The first words she uttered were, " Have 
 you seen him ? " 
 
 " Alas, no," answered Waverley ; " I have been refused admit- 
 tance." 
 
 " It accords with the rest," she said ; " but we must submit. 
 Shall you obtain leave, do you suppose ? " 
 
 " For — for— to-morrow," said Waverley ; but muttering the last 
 word so faintly that it was almost unintelligible. 
 
 " Ay, then or never," said Flora, " until "—she added, looking 
 upward, " the time when, I trust, we shall all rneet. But I hope 
 you will see him while earth yet bears him. He always loved you' 
 at his heart, though— but it is vain to talk of the past." 
 
 " Vain indeed ! " echoed Waverley. 
 
 " Or even of the future, my good friend," said Flora, " so far as- 
 earthly events are concerned ; for how often have I pictured to my- 
 self the strong possibility of this horrid issue, and tasked myself to 
 consider how I could support my part ; and yet how far has all 
 my anticipation fallen short of the unimaginable bitterness of this- 
 hour ! " 
 
 " Dear Flora, if your strength of mind " 
 
■SBo ' WAVERLEY. 
 
 " Ay, there it is," she answered, somewhat wildly ; " there is, 
 Mr. Waverley, there is a busy devil at my heart that whispers— but 
 it were madness to listen to it — that the strength of mind on which 
 Flora prided herself has murdered her brother ! " 
 
 " Good God ! how can you give utterance to a thought so 
 shocking ? " 
 
 " Ay, is it not so ? but yet it haunts me like a phantom : I know 
 it is unsubstantial and vain ; but it will be present ; will intrude its 
 horrors on my mind ; will whisper that my brother, as volatile as 
 ardent, would have divided his energies amid a hundred objects. 
 It was I who taught him to concentrate them, and to gage all on 
 this dreadful and desperate cast. Oh, that I could recollect that I 
 had but once said to him, ' He that striketh with the sword shall 
 die by the sword ; ' that I had but once said. Remain at home ; 
 ■reserve yourself, your vassals, your life, for enterprises withiri the 
 reach of man. But O, Mr. Waverley, I spurred his fiery temper, 
 and half his ruin at least lies with his sister ! " 
 
 The horrid idea which she had intimated, Edward endeavoured 
 to combat by every incoherent argument that occurred to him. He 
 recalled to her the principles on which both thought it their duty to 
 act, and in which they had been educated. 
 
 "Do not think I have forgotten them," she said, looking up, with 
 £ager quickness ; " I do not regret his attempt, because it was 
 wrong ! O no ! on that point I am armed ; but because it was 
 impossible it could end otherwise than thus." / 
 
 "Yet it did not always seem so desperate and hazardous as it 
 was ; and it would have been chosen by the bold spirit of Fergus, 
 whether you had approved it or no ; your counsels only served to 
 •give unity and consistence to his conduct ; to dignify, but not to 
 precipitate, his resolution." Flora had soon ceased to listen to 
 Edward, and was again intent upon her needle-work. 
 
 " Do you remember," she said, looking up with a ghastly smile, 
 ■" you once found me making Fergus's bride-favours, and now I am 
 sewing his bridal-garment. Our friends here," she continued, with 
 suppressed emotion, " are to give hallowed earth in their chapel to 
 the bloody relics of the last Vich Ian Vohr. But they will not all 
 rest toget?ier, no — his head ! — I shall not have the last miserable 
 consolation of kissing the cold lips of my dear, dear Fergus ! " 
 
 The unfortunate Flora here, after one or two hysterical sobs 
 fainted in her chair. The lady, who had been attending in the 
 ante-room, now entered hastily, and begged Edward to leave the 
 room, but not the house. 
 
 When he was recalled, after the space of nearly half an hour, he 
 found that, by a strong effort, Miss Mac- Ivor had greatly composed 
 
WAVERLEY. 381 
 
 herself. It was then he ventured to urge Miss Bradwardine's claim 
 to be considered as an adopted sister, and empowered to assist her 
 plans for the future. 
 
 " I have had a letter from my dear Rose," she rephed, " to the 
 same purpose. Sorrow is selfish and engrossing, or I would have 
 written to express, that, even in my own despair, I felt a gleam of 
 pleasure at learning her happy prospects, and at hearing that the 
 good old Baron has escaped the general wreck. Give this to my 
 dearest Rose ; it is her poor Flora's only ornament of value, and 
 was the gift of a princess." She put into his hands a case contain- 
 ing the chain of diamonds with which she used to decorate her hair, 
 " To me it is in future useless. The kindness of my friends has 
 secured me a retreat in the convent of the Scottish Benedictine 
 nuns in' Paris. To-morrow — if indeed I can survive to-morrow — I 
 set forward on my journey with this venerable sister. And now, 
 Mr. Waverley, adieu ! May you be as happy with Rose as your 
 amiable dispositions deserve ! — and think sometimes on the friends 
 you have lost. Do not attempt to see me again ; it would be mis- 
 taken kindness." 
 
 She gave him her hand, on which Edward shed a torrent of tears, 
 and, with a faltering step, withdrew from the apartment, and re- 
 turned to the town of Carlisle. At the inn he found a letter from 
 his law friend, intimating that he would be admitted to Fergus next 
 morning as soon as the Castle gates were opened, and permitted to 
 remain with him till the arrival of the Sheriff gave signal for the 
 fatal procession. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. 
 
 A darker departure is near. 
 
 The death-drum is muffled, and sable the bier. 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 After a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning found 
 Waverley on the esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of 
 Carlisle Castle. But he paced it long in every direction, before the 
 hour when,»according to the rules of the garrison, the gates were 
 opened, and the drawbridge lowered. He produced his order to 
 the sergeant of the guard, and was admitted. 
 
 The place of Fergus's confinement was a gloomy and vaulted 
 apartment in the central part of the Castle, a huge old tower, sup- 
 posed to be of great antiquity, and surrounded by outworks, seem- 
 ingly of Henry VIII. 's time, or somewhat later. The grating of the 
 large old-fashioned bars and bolts, withdrawn for the piupose of 
 
382 WAVERLEY. 
 
 admitting Edward, was answered by the clash of chains, as the un- 
 fortunate Chieftain, strongly and heavily fettered, shuffled along 
 the stone floor of his prison, to fling himself into his friend's arms. 
 
 " My dear Edward," he said, in a firm, and even cheerful voice, 
 "this is truly kind. I heard of your approaching happiness with 
 the highest pleasure. And how does Rose ? and how is our old 
 whimsical friend the Baron ? Well, I trust, since I see you at 
 freedom — And how will you settle precedence between the three 
 ermines passant and the bear and boot-jack ? " 
 
 " How, O how, my dear Fergus, can you talk of such things at 
 such a moment ! " 
 
 " MTiy, we have entered Carlisle with happier auspices, to be 
 sure — on the i6th of November last, for example, when we marched 
 in, side by side, and hoisted the white flag on these ancient towers. 
 But I am no boy, to sit d.own and weep because the luck has gone 
 against me. I knew the stake which I risked ; we played the game 
 boldly, and the forfeit shall be paid manfully. And now, since my 
 time is short, let me come to the questions that interest me most — 
 the Prince ? has he escaped the bloodhounds ? " 
 
 " He has, and is in safety." 
 
 " Praised be God for that ! Tell me the particulars of his escape." 
 
 Waverley communicated that remarkable history, so far as it had 
 then transpired, to which Fergus listened with deep interest. He 
 then asked after several other friends; and made many minute 
 inquiries concerning the fate of his own clansrnen. They had 
 suffered less than other tribes who had been engaged in the affair ; 
 for, having in a great measure dispersed and returned home after 
 the captivity of their Chieftain, according to the universal custom 
 of the Highlanders, they were not in arms when the insurrection 
 was finally suppressed, and consequently were treated with less 
 rigour. This Fergus heard with great satisfaction. • 
 
 " You are rich," he said, " Waverley, and you are generous. 
 When you hear of these poor Mac-Ivors being distressed about 
 their miserable possessions by some harsh overseer or agent of 
 government, remember you have worn their tartan, and are an 
 adopted son of their race. The Baron, who knows our manners, 
 and lives near our country, will apprize you of the time and means 
 to be their protector. Will you promise this to the last Vich Ian 
 Vohr? " 
 
 Edward, as may well be believed, pledged his word ; which he 
 afterwards so amply redeemed, that his memory still Uves in these 
 glens by the name of the Friend of the Sons of Ivor. 
 
 "Would to God," continued the Chieftain, " I could bequeath to 
 you my rights to the love and obedience of this primitive and brave 
 
WAVERLEY. 383 
 
 race : — or at least, as I have striven to do, persuade poor Evan to 
 accept of his life upon their terms, and be to you, what he has been 
 to me, the kindest, — the bravest, — the most devoted " 
 
 The tears which his own fate could not draw forth, fell fast for 
 that of his foster-brother. 
 
 " But," said he, drying them, " that cannot be. You cannot be 
 to them Vich Ian Vohr ; and these three magic words," said he, 
 half smiling, " are the only Open Sesame to their feelings and sym- 
 pathies, and poor Evan must attend his foster-brother in death, as 
 he has done through his whole life." 
 
 " And I am sure," said Maccombich, raising himself from the 
 floor, on which, for fear of interrupting their conversation, he had 
 lain so stiU, that in the obscurity of the apartment Edward was not 
 aware of his presence, — " I am sure Evan never desired or deserved 
 a better end than just to die with his Chieftain." 
 
 "And now," said Fergus, "while we are upon the subject of 
 clanship — what think you now of the prediction of the Bodach 
 Glas?" — Then, before Edward could answer, "I saw him again 
 last night — he stood in the slip of moonshine, which fell from that 
 high and narrow window towards my bed. Why should I fear him, 
 I thought — ^to morrow, long ere this time, I shall be as immaterial 
 as he. ' False Spirit ! ' I said, ' art thou come to close thy walks on 
 earth, and to enjoy thy triumph in the fall of the last descendant of 
 thine enemy ? ' The spectre seemed to beckon and to smile as he 
 faded from my sight. What do you think of it? — I asked the samj 
 question of the priest, who is a good and sensible man ; he admitted 
 that the church allowed that such apparitions were possible, but 
 urged me not to permit my mind to dwell upon it, as imagination 
 plays such strange tricks. What do you think of it ? " 
 
 " Much as your confessor," said Waverley, willing to avoid dis- 
 pute upon such a point at such a moment. A tap at the door now 
 announced that good man, and Edward retired while he adminis- 
 tered to both prisoners the last rites of religion, in the mode which 
 the Church of Rome prescribes. 
 
 In about an hour he was re-admitted ; soon after, a file of sol- 
 diers entered with a blacksmith, who struck the fetters from the 
 legs of the prisoners. 
 
 " You see the compliment they pay to our Highland strength and 
 courage — we have lain chained here like wild beasts, till our legs 
 are cramped into palsy, and when they free us, they send six soldiers 
 with loaded muskets to prevent our taking the castle by storm ! " 
 
 Edward afterwards learned that these severe precautions had 
 been taken in consequence of a desperate attempt of the prisoners 
 to escape, in which they had very nearly succeeded. 
 
384 WAVERLKY. 
 
 Shortly afterwards the drums of the garrison beat to arms. 
 "This is the last turn-out," said Fergus, "that I shall hear and 
 obey. And now, my dear, dear Edward, ere we part let us speak 
 pi Flora — a subject which awakes the tenderest feeling that yet 
 thrills within me." 
 
 " We part not here ! " said Waverley. 
 
 " O yes, we do ; you must come no farther. Not that I fear 
 what is to follow for myself," he said, proudly: "Nature has her 
 tortures as well as art ; and how happy should we think the man 
 who escapes from the throes of a mortal and painful disorder, in 
 the space of a short half hour ? And this matter, spin it out as they 
 will, cannot last longer. But what a dying man can suifer firmly, 
 may kiU a living friend to look upon. — This same law of high trea- 
 son," he continued, with astonishing firmness and composure, " is 
 one of the blessings, Edward, with which your free country has 
 accommodated poor old Scotland : her own jurisprudence, as I 
 have heard, was much milder. But I suppose one day or other — 
 when there are no longer any wild Highlanders to benefit by its 
 tender mercies— they will blot it from their records, as levelling 
 them with a nation of cannibals. The mummery, too, of exposing the 
 senseless head — they have not the wit to grace mine with a paper 
 coronet ; there would be some satire in that, Edward. I hope they 
 will set it on the Scotch gate though, that I may look, even after 
 death, to the blue hills of my own country, which I love so dearly. 
 The Baron would have added, 
 
 ' Mox-itur, et moriens dulces reminiscitur Argos.'" 
 
 A bustle, and the sound of wheels and horses' feet, was now heard 
 in the court-yard of the Castle. "As I have told you why you 
 must not foUow me, and these sounds admonish me that my time 
 flies fast, tell me how you found poor Flora .? " 
 
 Waverley, with a voice interrupted by suffocating sensations, 
 gave some account of the state of her mind. 
 
 " Poor Flora ! " answered the Chief, " she could have borne her 
 own sentence of death, but^ not mine. You, Waverley, will soon 
 know the happiness of mutual affection in the married state — long, 
 long may Rose and you enjoy it ! — but you can never know the 
 purity of feeling which combines two orphans, like Flora and me, 
 left alone as it were in the world, and being all in all to each other 
 from our very infancy. But her strong sense of duty, and, predo- 
 minant feeling of loyalty, will give new nerve to her mind after the 
 Immediate and acute sensation of this parting has passed away. 
 She will then think of Fergus as of the heroes of our race, upon 
 whose deeds she loved to dwell." 
 

 ^ 
 
 t 
 
 
WAVERLEY. J85 
 
 " Shall she not see you, then ? " asked Waverley. '•' She seemed 
 to expect it." 
 
 " A necessary deceit will spare her the last dreadful parting. I 
 could not part with her without tears, and I cannot bear that these 
 men should think they have power to extort them. She was made 
 to beUeve she would see me at a later hour, and this letter, which 
 my confessor will deliver, will apprize her that all is over." 
 
 An officer now appeared, and intimated that the High Sheriff 
 and his attendants waited before the gate of the Castle, to claim 
 the bodies of Fergus MacJvorand Evan Maccombich. " I come," 
 said Fergus. Accordingly, supporting Edward by the arm, and 
 followed by Evan Dhu and the priest, he moved down the stairs of 
 the tower, the soldiers bringing up the rear. The court was occupied 
 by a squadron of dragoons and a battalion of infantry, drawn up in 
 hoUow square. Within their ranks was the sledge, or hurdle, on 
 which, the prisoners were to be drawn to the place of execution, 
 about a mile distant from Carlisle. It was painted black, and 
 drawn by a white horse. At one end of the vehicle sat the Execu- 
 tioner, a horrid-looking fellow, as beseemed his trade, with the 
 broad axe in his hand ; at the other end, next the liorse, was an 
 empty seat for two persons. Through the deep and dark Gothic 
 archway, that opened on the drawbridge, were seen on horseback 
 the High Sheriff and his attendants, whom the etiquette betwixt 
 the civil and military powers did not permit to come farther. 
 " This is well GOT up for a closing scene," said Fergus, smiling 
 disdainfully as he gazed around upon the apparatus of terror. Evan 
 Dhu exclaimed with some eagerness, after looking at the dragoons, 
 ■" These are the very chields that gallopped off at Gladsmuir, before 
 we could kill a dozen o' them. They look bold enough now, how- 
 ever." The priest entreated him to be silent. 
 
 The sledge now approached, and Fergus, turning round, em- 
 braced Waverley, kissed him on each side of the face, and stepped 
 nimbly into his place. Evan sat down by his side. The priest 
 was to follow in a carriage belonging to his patron, the Catholic 
 gentleman at whose house Flora resided. As Fergus waved his 
 hand to Edward, the ranks closed around the sledge, and the 
 whole procession began to move forward. There was a momentary 
 stop at the gateway, while the governor of the Castle and the High 
 Sheriff went through a short ceremony, the militaiy oiificer there 
 delivering over the persons of the criminals to the civil power. 
 " God save King George ! " said the High Sheriff. When the for- 
 mality concluded, Fergus stood erect in the sledge, and with a firm 
 and steady voice, replied, " God save King James!" These were 
 the last words which Waverley heard him speak. 
 
386 WAVERLEY. 
 
 The procession resumed its march, and the sledge vanished from 
 beneath the portal, under which it had stopped for an instant. The- 
 dead march was then heard, and its melancholy sounds were mingled 
 with those of a muffled peal, tolled from the neighbouring cathe- 
 dral. The sound of the military music died away as the procession 
 moved on ; the sullen clang of the bells was soon heard to sound 
 alone. 
 
 The last of the soldiers had now disappeared from under the 
 vaulted archway through which they had been filing for several 
 minutes ; the court-yard 'was now totally empty, but Waverley 
 still stood there as if stupified, his eyes fixed upon the dark pass 
 where he had so lately seen the last glimpse of his friend. At 
 length, a female servant of the governor's, struck with compassion 
 at the stupified misery which his countenance expressed, asked him 
 if he would not walk into her master's house and sit down ? She 
 was obliged to repeat her question twice ere he comprehended her, 
 but at length it recalled him to himself. Declining the courtesy by 
 a hasty gesture, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and, leaving the 
 Castle, walked as swiftly as he could through the empty streets, till 
 he regained his inn, then rushed into an apartment, and bolted the 
 door. 
 
 In about an hour and a half, which seemed an age of unutterable 
 suspense, the sound of the drums and fifes, performing a lively air, 
 and the confused murmur of the crowd which now filled the streets, 
 so lately deserted, apprized him that all was finished, and that the 
 militaiy and populace were returning from the dreadful scene. I 
 will not attempt to describe his sensations. 
 
 In the evening the priest made him a visit, and informed him that 
 he did so by directions of his deceased friend, to assure him that 
 Fergus Mac-Ivor had died as he lived, and remembered 'his 
 friendship to the last. He added, he had also seen Flora, whose 
 state of mind seemed more composed since all was over. With her 
 and sister Theresa the priest proposed next day to leave Carlisle, 
 for the nearest seaport from which they could embark foi: France. 
 Waverley forced on this good man a ring of some value, and a sum 
 of money to be employed (as he thought might gratify Flora) in the 
 services of the Cathohc church, for the memory of his friend. 
 " Fungarque inani munere" he repeated, as the ecclesiastic retired. 
 ■"Yet why not class these acts of remembrance with other honours, 
 with which affection, in all sects, pursues the memory of the dead ?"■ 
 
 The next morning, ere daylight, he took leave of the town of 
 Carlisle, promising to himself never again to enter its walls. He 
 dared hardly look back towards the Gothic battlements of the 
 fortified gate under which he passed (for the place is surrounded 
 
WAVERLEY, 387 
 
 with an old wall). " They're no there," said Alick Polwarth, who 
 guessed the cause of the dubious look which Waverley cast back- 
 ward, and who, with the vulgar appetite for the horrible, was master 
 of each detail of the butchery—" The heads are ower the Scotch 
 yate, as they ca' it. It's a great pity of Evan Dhu, who was a very 
 weel-meaning, good-natured man, to be a Hielandman ; and indeed 
 so was the Laird o' Glennaquoich too, for that matter, when he 
 wasna in ane o' his tirrivies." 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 DULCE DOMUM. 
 
 The impression of horror with which Waverley left Carlisle 
 softened by degrees into melancholy, a gradation which was 
 accelerated by the painful, yet soothing, task of writing to Rose ; 
 and, while he could not suppress his own feelings of the calamity, 
 he endeavoured to place it in a light which might grieve her with- 
 out shocking her imagination. The picture which he drew for her 
 benefit he gradually familiarized to his own mind ; and his next 
 letters were more cheerful, and referred to the prospects of peace 
 and happiness which lay before them. Yet, though his first horrible 
 sensations had sunk into melancholy, Edward had reached his 
 native country before he could, as usual on former occasions, look 
 round for enjoyment upon the face of nature. 
 
 He then, for the first time since leaving Edinburgh, began to 
 experience that pleasure which almost all feel who return to a 
 verdant, populous, and highly cultivated country, from scenes of 
 waste desolation, or of solitary and melancholy grandeur. But 
 hoiy were those feelings enhanced when he entered on the domain 
 so long possessed by his forefathers ; recognised the old oaks of 
 Waverley-Chase ; thought with what delight he should introduce 
 Rose to all his favourite haunts ; beheld at length the towers of the 
 venerable hall arise above the woods which embowered it, and 
 finally threw himself into the ai-ms of the venerable relations to 
 whom he owed so much duty and affection ! 
 
 The happiness of their meeting was not tarnished by a single 
 word of reproach. On the contrary, whatever pain Sir Everard 
 and Mrs. Rachel had felt during Waverley's perilous engagement 
 with the young Chevalier, it assorted too well with the principles in 
 which they had been brought up, to incur reprobation, or even 
 censure. Colonel Talbot also had smoothed the way, with great 
 address, for Edward's favourable reception, by dwelling upon his 
 gallant behaviour in the mihtary character, particularly his bravery 
 
;i88 WAVERI.EY. 
 
 and generosity at Preston ; until, warmed at the idea of their 
 nephew's engaging in single combat, making prisoner, and saving 
 from slaughter, so distinguished an officer as the Colonel himself, 
 the imagination of the Baronet and his sister ranked the exploits of 
 Edward with those of Wilibert, Hildebrand, and Nigel, the vaunted 
 heroes of their line. 
 
 The appearance of Waverley, embrowned by exercise, and digni- 
 fied by the habits of military discipline, had acquired an athletic 
 and hardy character, which not only verified the Colonel's narration, 
 but surprised and delighted all the inhabitants of Waverley-Honour. 
 They crowded to see, to hear him, and to sing his praises. Mr. 
 Pembroke, who secretly extolled his spirit and courage in embra- 
 cing the genuine cause of the Church of England, censured his 
 pupil gently, nevertheless, for being so careless of his manuscripts, 
 which indeed, he said, had occasioned him some personal incon- 
 venience, as, upon the Baronet's being arrested by a king's 
 messenger, he had deemed it prudent to retire to a concealment 
 called " The Priest's Hole," from the use it had been put to in 
 former days ; where, he assured our hero, the butler had thought 
 it safe to venture with food only once in the day, so that he had been 
 repeatedly compelled to dine upon victuals either absolutely cold, 
 or, what was worse, only half warm, not to mention that sometimes 
 his bed had not been arranged for two days together. Waverley's 
 mind involuntarily turned to the Patmos of the Baron of Bradwar- 
 dine, who was well pleased with Janet's fare, and a few bunches of 
 straw stowed in a cleft in the front of a sand-cliff : but he made no 
 remarks upon a contrast which could only mortify his worthy 
 tutor. 
 
 AH was now in a bustle to prepare for the nuptials of Edward, 
 an event to which the good old Baronet and Mrs. Rachel looked 
 forward as if to the renewal of their own youth. The match, as 
 Colonel Talbot had intimated, had seemed to them in the highest 
 degree eligible, having every recommendation but wealth, of which 
 they themselves had more than enough. Mr.Clippurse was there- 
 fore summoned to Waverley-Honour, under better auspices than at 
 the commencement of our story. But Mr. Clippurse came not 
 alone ; for, being now stricken in years, he had associated with 
 him a nephew, a younger vulture (as. our English Juvenal, whoteUs 
 the tale of Swallow the attorney, might have called him), and they 
 now carried on business as Messrs. Clippurse and Hookem. These 
 worthy gentlemen had directions to make the necessary settlements 
 on the most splendid scale of Hberality, as if Edward were to 
 wed a peeress in her own right, with her paternal estate tacked to 
 the fringe of her ermine. 
 
WAVERLEY. 389 
 
 But before entering upon a subject of proverbial dela)', I must 
 remind my reader of the progress of a stone rolled down hill by an 
 idle truant boy (a pastime at which I was myself expert in my more 
 juvenile years :) it moves at first slowly, avoiding by inflection 
 every obstacle of the least importance ; but when it has attained its 
 full impulse, and draws near the conclusion of its career, it smokes 
 and thunders down, taking a rood at every spring, clearing hedge 
 and ditch like a Yorkshire huntsman, and becoming most furiously 
 rapid in its course when it is nearest to being consigned to rest for 
 ever. Even such is the course of a narrative like that which you 
 are perusing. The earlier events are studiously dwelt upon, that 
 you, kind reader, may be introduced to the character rather by 
 narrative, than by the duller medium of direct description ; but 
 when the story draws near its close, we hurry over the circum- 
 stances, however important, which your imagination must have 
 forestalled, and leave you to suppose those things which it would 
 be abusing your patience to relate at length. 
 
 We are, therefore, so far from attempting to trace the dull pro- 
 gress of Messrs. Clippurse and Hookem, or that of their worthy 
 official brethren, who had the charge of suing out the pardons of 
 Edward Waverley and his intended father-in-law, that we can 
 but touch upon matters more attractive. The mutual epistles, for 
 example, which were exchanged between Sir Everard and the 
 Baron upon this occasion, though matchless specimens of eloquence 
 in their way, must be consigned to merciless oblivion. Nor can I 
 tell you at length, how worthy Aunt Rachel, not without a delicate 
 and affectionate allusion to the circumstances which had trans- 
 ferred Rose's maternal diamonds to the hands of Donald Bean 
 Lean, stocked her casket with a set of jewels that a Duchess might 
 have envied. Moreover, the reader will have the goodness to 
 imagine that Job Houghton and his dame were suitably provided 
 for, although they could never be persuaded that their son fell 
 otherwise than fighting by the young squire's side ; so that Alick, 
 who, as a lover of truth, had made many needless attempts to ex- 
 pound the real circumstances to them, was finally ordered to say 
 not a word more upon the subject. He indemnified himself, how- 
 ever, by the liberal allowance of desperate battles, grisly executions, 
 and raw-head and bloody-bone stories, with which he astonished 
 the servants'-hall. 
 
 But although these important matters maybe briefly. told in nar- 
 rative, like a newspaper report of a Chancery suit, yet, with all the 
 urgency which Waverley could use, the real time which the law 
 proceedings occupied, joined to the delay occasioned by the mode 
 of travelling at that period, rendered it considerably more than two 
 
390 WAVERLEY. 
 
 months ere Waverley, having left England, alighted once more at 
 the mansion of the Laird of Duchran to claim the hand of his 
 plighted bride. 
 
 The day of his marriage was fixed for the sixth after his arrival. 
 The Baron of Bradwardine, with whom bridals, christenings, and 
 funerals, were festivals of high and solemn import, felt a little hurt, 
 that, including the family of the Duchran, and all the immediate 
 vicinity who had title to be present on such an occasion, there 
 could not be above thirty persons collected. "When he was 
 married," he observed, " three hundred horse of gentlemen born, 
 besides servants, and some score or two of Highland lairds, who 
 never got on horseback, were present on the occasion." 
 
 But his pride found some consolation in reflecting, that he and 
 his son-in-law, having been so lately in arms against Government, 
 it might give matter of reasonable fear and offence to the ruling 
 powers, if they were to collect together the kith, kin, and allies of 
 their houses, arrayed in efifeir of war, as was the ancient custom of 
 Scotland on these occasions — " And, without dubitation," he con- 
 cluded, with a sigh, " many of those who would have rejoiced most 
 freely upon these joyful espousals, are either gone to a better place, 
 or are now exiles from their native land." 
 
 The marriage took place on the appointed day. The Reverend 
 Mr. Rubrick, kinsman to the proprietor of the hospitable mansion 
 where it was solemnised, and chaplain to the Baron of Bradwardine, 
 had the satisfaction to unite their hands ; and Frank Stanley acted 
 as bridesman, having joined Edward with that view soon after his 
 arrival. Lady Emily and Colonel Talbot had proposed being pre- 
 sent ; but Lady Emil/s health, when the day approached, was 
 found inadequate to the journey. In amends, it was arranged that 
 Edward Waverley and his lady, who, with the Baron, proposed an 
 immediate journey to Waverley-Honour, should, in their way, 
 spend a few days at an estate which Colonel Talbot had been 
 tempted to purchase in Scotland as a very great bargain, and at 
 which he proposed to reside for some time. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXI. 
 
 " This is no mine ain house, I ken by the bigging o't." 
 
 Old Song. 
 
 The nuptial party travelled in great style. There was a coach 
 and six after the newest pattern, which Sir Everard had presented 
 to his nephew, that dazzled with its splendour the eyes of one half 
 of Scotland j there was the family coach of Mr. Rubrick ; — ^both 
 
WAVERLEY. 397 
 
 these were crowded with ladies, and there were gentlemen on 
 horseback, with their servants, to the number of a round score. 
 Nevertheless, without having the fear of famine before his eyes, 
 Bailie Macwheeble met them in the road, to entreat that they would 
 pass by his house at Little Veolan. The B^xon stared, and said 
 his son and he would certainly ride by Little Veolan, and pay their 
 compliments to the Baihe, but could not think of bringing with 
 them the " haill comitatus nuptialis, or matrimonial procession." 
 He added, " that, as he understood that the barony had been sold 
 by its unworthy possessor, he was glad to see his old friend Duncan 
 had regained his situation under his new Dominus, or proprietor." 
 The Bailie ducked, bowed, and fidgeted, and then again insisted 
 upon his invitation ; until the Baron, though rather piqued at the 
 pertinacity of his instances, could not nevertheless refuse to con- 
 sent, without making evident sensations which he was anxious to 
 conceal. 
 
 He fell into a deep study as they approached the top of the 
 avenue, and was only startled from it by observing that the battle- 
 ments were replaced, the ruins cleared away, and (most wonderful 
 of all) that the two great stone Bears, those mutilated Dagons of 
 his idolatry, had resumed their posts over the gateway. " Now 
 Ihis new proprietor," said he to Edward, " has shown mair gusto, 
 as the Italians call it, in the short time he has had this domain, 
 than that hound Malcolm, though I bred him here mysell, has 
 a.cquired vita adhuc durante. — And now I talk of hounds, is not 
 yon Ban and Buscar who come scouping up the avenue with Davie 
 Gellatley?" 
 
 " I vote we should go to meet them, sir," said Waverley ; " for I 
 believe the present master of the house is Colonel Talbot, who will 
 €xpect to see us. We hesitated to mention to you at first that he 
 had purchased your ancient patrimonial property, and even yet, if 
 vou do not incline to visit him, we can pass on to the Bailie's." 
 
 The Baron had occasion for all his magnanimity. However, he 
 drew a long breath, took a long snuff, and observed, since they had 
 brought him so far, he could not pass the Colonel's gate, and he 
 would be happy to see the new master of his old tenants. He 
 alighted accordingly, as did the other gentlemen and ladies ; — he 
 gave his arm to his daughter, and as they descended the avenue, 
 pointed out to her how speedily the " DivaPecunia of the Southron 
 ■ — their tutelary deity, he might call her — had removed the marks 
 of spoliation." 
 
 In truth, not only had the felled trees been removed, but, their 
 stumps being grubbed up, and the earth round them levelled and 
 sown with grass, every mark of devastation, unless to an eye 
 
392 WAVERLEY. 
 
 intimately acquainted with the spot, was ahready totally obliterated. 
 There was a similar reformation in the outward man of Davie 
 Gellatley, who met them, every now and then stopping to admire 
 the new suit which graced his person, in the same colours as 
 formerly, but bedizened fine enough to have served Touchstone 
 himself. He danced up with his usual ungainly frolics, first to the 
 Baron,' and then to Rose, passing his hands over his clothes, 
 crying, Bra^ bra' Davie" and scarce able to sing a bar to an end 
 of his thousand-and-one songs, for the breathless extravagance of 
 his joy. The dogs also acknowledged their old master with 
 a thousand gambols. " Upon my conscience. Rose," ejaculated the 
 Baron, " the gratitude o' thae dumb brutes, and of that puir 
 innocent, brings the tears into my auld een, while that schellum 
 Malcolm — but I'm obliged to Colonel Talbot for putting my 
 hounds into such good condition, and likewise for puir Davie. 
 But, Rose, my dear, we must not permit them to be a liferent 
 burden upon the estate." 
 
 As he spoke, Lady Emily, leaning upon the arm of her husband, 
 met the party at the lower gate, with a thousand welcomes. After 
 the ceremony of introduction had been gone through, much 
 abridged by the ease and excellent breeding of Lady Emily, she 
 apologized for having used a little art to wile them back to a place 
 which might awaken some painful reflections — " But as it was to 
 change masters, we were veiy desirous that the Baron " 
 
 " Mr. Bradwardine, madam, if you please," said the old gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " Mr. Bradwardine, then, and Mr. Waverley, should see what we 
 have done towards restoring the mansion of your fathers to its 
 former state." 
 
 The Baron answered with a low bow. Indeed, when he entered 
 the court, excepting that the heavy stables, which had been burnt 
 down, were replaced by buildings of a lighter and more picturesque 
 appearance, all seemed as much as possible restored to the state 
 in which he had left it when he assumed arms some months before. 
 The pigeon-house was replenished ; the fountain played with its 
 usual activity ; and not only the Bear who predominated over its 
 basin, but all the other Bears whatsoever, were replaced on their 
 several stations, and renewed or repaired with so much care, that 
 they bore no tokens of the violence which had so lately descended 
 upon them. While these minutiae had been so heedfuUy attended 
 to, it is scarce necessaiy to add, that the house itself had been 
 thoroughly repaired, as well as the gardens, with the strictest 
 attention to maintain the 'original character of both, and to remove, 
 as far as possible, all appearance of the ravage they had sustained. 
 
WAVERLEY. 393, 
 
 The Baron gazed in silent wonder ; at length he addressed Colonel 
 Talbot : 
 
 " While I acknowledge my obligation to you, sir, for the resto- 
 ration of the badge of our family, I cannot but marvel that you; 
 have nowhere established your own crest, whilk is, I believe, a, 
 mastiff, anciently called a talbot ; as the poet has it, 
 
 ' A talbot strong— a sturdy tyke.' 
 
 At least such a dog is the crest of the martial and renowned Earls 
 of Shrewsbury, to whom your family are probably blood relations." 
 " I believe," said the Colonel, smiling, " our dogs are whelps of 
 the same litter — for my part, if crests were to dispute precedence,. 
 I should be apt to let them, as the proverb says, ' fight dog, fight 
 bear. ' " 
 
 As he made this speech, at which the Baron took another long, 
 pinch of snuff, they had entered the house, that is, the Baron, Rose, 
 and Lady Emily, with young Stanley and the BaiUe, for Edward 
 and the rest of the party remained on the terrace, to examine a new 
 green-house stocked with the finest plants. The Baron resumed 
 his favourite topic : " However it may please you to derogate from 
 the honour of your burgonet, Colonel Talbot, which is doubtless^ 
 your humour, as I have seen in other gentlemen of birth and 
 honour in your country, I must again repeat it as a most ancient 
 and distinguished bearing, as well a-S that of my young friend- 
 Francis Stanley, which is the eagle and child." 
 
 "The bird and bantling they call it in Derbyshire, sir," said- 
 Stanley. 
 
 " Ye're a daft callant, sir," said the Baron, who had a great liking 
 to this young man, perhaps because he sometimes teazed him — 
 " Ye're a daft callant, and I must correct you some of these days,"' 
 shaking his great brown fist at him. " But what I meant to say,. 
 Colonel Talbot, is, that yours is an ancient ^rosapia, or descent, 
 and since you have lawfully and justly acquired the estate for you 
 and yours, which I have lost for me and mine, I \vish it may remain 
 in your name as many centuries as it has done in that of the late- 
 proprietor's." 
 
 " That," answered the Colonel, " is very handsome, Mr. Brad-- 
 wardine, indeed." 
 
 " And yet, sir, I cannot but marvel that you, Colonel, whom I 
 noted to have so much of the amor patrice, when we met in Edin- 
 burgh, as even to vilipend other countries, should have chosen to- 
 establish your Lares, or household gods,/ro(r«/ a patrice finibus,, 
 and in a manner to expatriate yourself." 
 
-394 ^WAVERLEY. 
 
 " Why really, Baron, I do not see why, to keep the secret of 
 these foolish boys, Waverley and Stanley, and of my wife, who is 
 no wiser, one old soldier should continue to impose upon another. 
 You must know, then, that I have so much of that same prejudice 
 -in favour of my native country, that the sum of money which 
 I advanced to the seller of this extensive barony has only purchased 
 
 for me a box in shire, called Brerewood Lodge, with about two 
 
 hundred and fifty acres of land, the chief merit of which is, that it 
 is within a very few miles of Waverley-Honour." 
 
 " And who, then, in the name of Heaven, has bought this 
 property ? " 
 
 " That," said the Colonel, " it is this gentleman's profession to 
 ■explain." 
 
 The Bailie, whom this reference regarded, and who had all this 
 while shifted from one foot to another with great impatience, " hke 
 Si hen," as he afterwards said, " upon a het girdle ; " and chuckling, 
 he might have added, like the said hen in all the glory of laying an 
 egg, — now pushed forward : "That I can, that I can, your Honour," 
 drawing from his pocket a budget of papers, and untying the red 
 tape with a hand trembling with eagerness. " Here is the dispo- 
 •sition and assignation, by Malcolm Bradwardine of Inch-Grabbit, 
 regularly signed and tested in terms of the statute, whereby, for a 
 -certain sum of sterling money presently contented and paid to him, 
 he has disponed, alienated, and conveyed the whole estate and 
 barony of Bradwardine, TuUy-Veolan, and others, with the fortalice 
 axii manor-place ^" 
 
 " For God's sake, to the point, sir ; I have all that by heart," said 
 the Colonel. 
 
 "To Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esq." pursued the Bailie, 
 " his heirs and assignees, simply and irredeemably — to ba held 
 -either a me vel de me " 
 
 " Pray read short, sir." 
 
 " On the conscience of an honest man, Colonel, I read as short 
 .as is consistent with style. — Under the burden and reservation 
 always " 
 
 " Mr. Macwheeble, this would outlast a Russian winter — Give 
 me leave. In short, Mr. Bradwardine, your family estate is youi 
 ^wn once more in full property, and at your absolute disposal, but 
 .only burdened with the sum advanced to repurchase it, which 
 I understand is utterly disproportioned to its value." 
 
 " An auld sang — an auld sang, if it please your honours," cried 
 the Bailie, rubbing his hands ; look at the rental book." 
 
 " Which sum being advanced by Mr. Edward Waverley, chiefly 
 from the price of his father's property which I bought from him, 
 
WAVERLEY. 395 
 
 is secured to his lady your daughter, and her family by this mar- 
 riage." 
 
 ''It is a cathohc security," shouted the Bailie, "to Rose Comyne 
 Bradwardine, alias Wauverley, in liferent, and the children' of 
 the said marriage in fee ; and I made up a wee bit minute of 
 an ante-nuptial contract, intuitu matrimonij, so it cannot be 
 subject to reduction hereafter, as a donation inter virum et 
 uxorem" 
 
 It is difficult to say whether the worthy Baron was most delighted 
 with the restitution of his family property, or with the delicacy and 
 generosity that left him unfettered to pursue nl-s purpose in disposing 
 of it after his death, and which avoided, as much as possible, even 
 the appearance of laying him under pecuniary obligation. When 
 his first pause of joy and astonishment was over, his thoughts 
 turned to the unworthy heir-male, who, he pronounced, " had sold 
 his birth-right, like Esau, for a mess o' pottage." 
 
 " But wha cookit the parritch for him .? " exclaimed the Bailie ; 
 " I wad like to ken that — wha but your honour's to command, 
 Duncan Macwheeble .^ His honour, young Mr. Wauverley, put it 
 a' into my hand frae the beginning — frae the first calling o' the 
 summons, as I may say. I circumvented them — I played at bogle 
 about the bush wi' them — I cajoled them ; and if I havena gien 
 Inch-Grabbit and Jamie Howie a bonnie begunk, they ken them- 
 selves. Him a writer ! I didna gae slapdash to them wi' our young 
 bra' bridegroom, to gar them haud up the market : na, na ; I 
 scared them wi' our wild tenantry, and the Mac-Ivors, that are but 
 ■ill settled yet, till they durstna on ony errand whatsoever gang ower 
 the door-stane after gloaming, for fear John Heatherblutter, or 
 some siccan dare-the-deil, should tak a baff at them : then, on the 
 ■other hand, I beflumm'd them wi' Colonel Talbot — wad they offer 
 to keep up the price again' the Duke's friend ? did they na ken 
 wha was master ? had they na seen eneugh, by the sad example of 
 mony a puir misguided unhappy body " 
 
 "Who went to Derby, for example, Mr. Macwheeble?" said the 
 Colonel to him, aside. 
 
 " O whisht, Colonel, for the love o' God ! let that flee stick i' the 
 wa.' There were mony good folk at Derby ; and it's ill speaking 
 of halters," — with a sly cast of his eye toward the Baron, who was 
 in a deep reverie. 
 
 Starting out of it at once, he took Macwheeble by the button, and 
 led him into one of the deep window recesses, whence only frag- 
 ments of their conversation reached the rest of the party. It 
 certainly related to stamp-paper and parchment ; for no other 
 subject, even from the mouth of his patron, and he, once more, an 
 
396 WAVERLEY. 
 
 efficient one, could have arrested so deeply the Bailie's reverent 
 and absorbed attention. . 
 
 " I, understand your honour perfectly ; it can be dune as easy as 
 taking out a decreet in absence." 
 
 " To her and him, after my demise, and to their heirs-male, — ^but 
 preferring the second son, if God shall bless them with two, who is- 
 to carry the name and arms of Bradwardine of that Ilk, without 
 any other name or armorial bearings whatsoever." 
 
 " Tut, your honour ! " whispered the Bailie, " I'll mak a slight 
 jotting the morn ; it will cost but a charter of resignation in 
 favoremj and I'll hae it ready for the next term in Exchequer." 
 
 Their private conversation ended, the Baron was now summoned 
 to do the honours of Tully-Veolan to new guests. These were. 
 Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, and the Reverend Mr. Morton, 
 followed by two or three others of the Baron's acquaintances, who- 
 had been made privy to his having again acquired the estate of his 
 fathers. The shouts of the villagers were also heard beneath in the' 
 court-yard ; for Saunders Saunderson, who had kept the secret for 
 several days with laudable prudence, had unloosed his tongue upon, 
 beholding the arrival of the carriages. 
 
 But, while Edward received Major Melville with politeness, and 
 the clergyman with the most affectionate and grateful kindness, his 
 father-in-law looked a little awkward, as uncertain how he should 
 answer the necessary claims of hospitality to his guests, and 
 forward the festivity of his tenants. Lady Emily relieved him, by 
 intimating, that, though she must be an indifferent representative- 
 of Mrs. Edward Waverley in many respects, she hoped the Baron, 
 would approve of the entertainment she had ordered, in expectation, 
 of so many guests ; and that they would find such other accom- 
 modations provided, as might in some degree support the ancient 
 hospitality of Tully-Veolan. It is impossible to describe the- 
 pleasure which this assurance gave the Baron, who, with an air of 
 gallantry half appertaining to the stiff Scottish laird, and half to the- 
 officer in the French service, offered his arm to the fair speaker,, 
 and led the way, in something between a stride and a minuet step, 
 into the large dining parlour, followed by all the rest of the good 
 company. 
 
 By dint of Saunderson's directions and exertions, all here, as 
 well as in the other apartments, had been disposed as much as; 
 possible according to the old arrangement ; and where new 
 moveables had been necessary, they had been selected in the same 
 character with the old furniture. There was one addition to this 
 fine old apartment, however, which drew tears into the Baron's 
 eyes. It was a large and spirited painting, representing Fergus 
 
WAVERLEY. gg; 
 
 Mac-Ivor and Waverley in their Highland dress ; the scene a 
 Tvild, rocky, and mountainous pass, down' which the clan were 
 ■descending in the background. It was taken from a spirited 
 sketch, drawn while they were in Edinburgh by a young man of 
 high genius, and had been painted on a fuU-length scale by an 
 eminent London artist. Raeburn himself (whose Highland Chiefs 
 do _aU but walk out of the canvas), could not have done more 
 justice to the subject; and the ardent, fiery, and impetuous 
 character of the unfortunate Chief of Glennaquoich was finely 
 •contrasted with the contemplative, fanciful, and enthusiastic 
 ■expression of his happier friend. Beside this painting hung 
 the arms which Waverley had borne in the unfortunate civil 
 war. The whole piece was beheld with admiration, and deeper 
 feelings. 
 
 Men must, however, eat, in spite both of sentiment and vertu ; 
 and the Baron, while he assumed the lower end of the table, insisted 
 that Lady Emily should do the honours of the head, that they 
 might, he said, set a meet example to the young folk. After a 
 pause of deliberation, employed in adjusting in his own brain the 
 precedence between the Presbyterian kirk and Episcopal church of 
 Scotland, he requested Mr. Morton, as the stranger, would crave a 
 blessing, observing, that Mr. Kubrick, who was at home, would 
 return thanks for the distingui'Shed mercies it had been his lot to 
 experience. The dinner was excellent. Saunderson attended in 
 full costume, with all the former domestics, who had been collected, 
 •excepting one or two, that had not been heard of since the affair of 
 CuUoden. The cellars were stocked with wine which was pro- 
 nounced to be superb, and it had been contrived that the Bear of 
 the Fountain, in the court-yard, should (for that night only) play 
 excellent brandy punch for the benefit of the lower orders. 
 
 When the dinner was over, the Baron, about to propose a toast, 
 cast a somewhat sorrowful look upon the sideboard, which, how- 
 ever, exhibited much of his plate, that had either been secreted, or 
 purchased by neighbouring gentlemen from the soldiery, and by 
 them gladly restored to the original owner. 
 
 " In the late times," he said, " those must be thankful who have 
 saved life and land ; yet, when I am about to pronounce this toast, 
 I cannot but regret an old heir-loom. Lady Emily — a j)onditin 
 fiotatoriujn. Colonel Talbot " 
 
 Here the Baron's elbow was gently touched by his Major Domo, 
 and, turning round, he beheld, in the hands of Alexander ab 
 Alexandro, the celebrated cup of Saint Duthac, the Blessed Bear 
 of Bradwardine ! I question if the recovery of his estate afforded 
 him more rapture. " By my honour," he said, " one might almost 
 
398 WAVERLEY. 
 
 believe in brownies and fairies, Lady Emily, when your ladyship is 
 in presence ! " 
 
 " I am truly happy," said Colonel Talbot, " that by the recovei-y 
 of this piece of family antiquity, it has fallen within my power to 
 give you some token of my deep interest in all that concerns my 
 young friend Edward. But that you may not suspect Lady Emily 
 for a sorceress, or me for a conjuror, which is no joke in Scotland, 
 I must tell you that Frank Stanley, your friend, who has been 
 seized with a tartan fever ever since he heard Edward's tales of 
 old Scottish manners, happened to describe to us at second hand 
 this remarkable cup. My servant, Spontoon, who, like a true old 
 soldier, observes everything and says little, gave me afterwards to 
 understand that he thought he had seen the piece of plate 
 Mr. Stanley mentioned, in the possession of a certain Mrs. Nose- 
 bag, who, having been originally the helpmate of a pawnbroker, 
 had found opportunity, during the late unpleasant scenes in 
 Scotland, to trade a little in her old line, and so became the 
 depositary of the more valuable part of the spoil of half the army. 
 You may believe the cup was speedily recovered ; and it will give 
 me very great pleasure if you allow me to suppose that its value is 
 not diminished by having been restored through my means." 
 
 A tear mingled with the wine which the Baron filled, as he pro- 
 posed a cup of gratitude to Colonel Talbot, and " The Prosperity 
 of the united Houses of Waverley-Honour and Bradwardine ! " 
 
 It only remains for me to say, that as no wish was ever uttered 
 with more affectionate sincerity, there are few which, allowing for 
 the necessary mutabiUty of human events, have been, upon the 
 whole, more happily fulfilled. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXII. 
 
 A POSTSCRIPT, WHICH SHOULD HAVE BEEN A PREFACE. 
 
 Our journey is now finished, gentle reader ; and if your patience 
 has accompanied me through these sheets, the contract is, on your 
 part, strictly fulfilled. Yet, like the driver who has received his full 
 hire, I still linger near you, and make, with becoming difiidence, a 
 trifling additional claim upon your bounty and good nature. You 
 are as free, however, to shut the volume of the one petitioner, as M 
 close your door in the face of the other. 
 
 This should have been a prefatory chapter, but ior, two reasons : 
 first, that most novel readers, as my own conscience reminds me, 
 are apt to be guilty of the sin of omission respecting that same 
 matter of prefaces ; secondly, that it is a general custom with that 
 
WAVERLEY. 359. 
 
 class of students, to begin with the last chapter of a work ; so that^ 
 after all, these remarks, being introduced last in order, have still 
 the best chance to be read in their proper place. 
 
 There is no European nation, which, within the course of half a 
 century, or little more, has undergone so complete a change as this 
 kmgdom of Scotland. The effects of the insurrection of 1745 — 
 the destruction of the patriarchal power of the Highland chiefs, — 
 the abolition of the heritable jurisdictions of the Lowland nobility 
 and barons, — the total eradication of the Jacobite party, which^ 
 averse to intermingle with the English, or adopt their customs^ 
 long continued to pride themselves upon maintaining ancient 
 Scottish manners and customs, — commenced this innovation. The 
 gradual influx of wealth, and extension of commerce, have since 
 united to render the present people of Scotland a class of beings^ 
 as different from their grandfathers as the existing English are from 
 those of Queen Elizabeth's time. The political and economical 
 effects of these changes have been traced by Lord Selkirk with 
 great precision and accuracy. But the change, though steadily 
 and rapidly progressive, has, nevertheless, been gradual ; and, 
 like those who drift down the stream of a deep and smooth river, 
 we are not aware of the progress we have made, until we fix our 
 eye on the now distant point from which we have been drifted. 
 Such of the present generation as can recollect the last twenty or 
 twenty-five years of the eighteenth century, will be fully sensible of 
 the truth of this statement ; especially if their acquaintance and 
 connexions lay among those, who, in my younger time, were 
 facetiously caUed " folks of the old leaven," who still cherished 
 a lingering, though hopeless, attachment to the house of Stuart. 
 This race has now almost entirely vanished from the land, and 
 with it, doubtless, much absurd political prejudice ; but also, many 
 living examples of singular and disinterested attachment to the 
 principles of loyalty which they received from their fathers, and of 
 old Scottish faith, hospitality, worth, and honour. 
 
 It was my accidental lot, though not born a Highlander (which 
 may be an apology for much bad Gaelic), to reside, during my 
 childhood and youth, among persons of the above description ; and 
 now, for the purpose of preserving some idea of the ancient 
 manners of which I have witnessed the almost total extinction, 
 I have embodied in imaginarj' scenes, and ascribed to fictitious 
 characters, a part of the incidents which I then received from 
 those who were actors in them. Indeed, the most romantic parts 
 of this narrative are precisely those which have a foundation in 
 fact. The exchange of mutual protection between a Highland 
 gentleman and an officer of rank in the king's service, together with 
 
400 WAVERLEY. 
 
 the spirited manner in which the latter asserted his right to return 
 the favour he had received, is literally true. The accident by a 
 musket-shot, and the heroic reply imputed to Flora, relate to a lady 
 of rank not long deceased. And scarce a gentleman who was " in 
 hiding," after the battle of CuUoden, but could tell a tale of strange 
 concealments, and of wild and hair's-breadth 'scapes, as extra- 
 ordinary as any which I have ascribed to my heroes. Of this, 
 the escape of Charles Edward himself, as the most prominent, is 
 the most striking example. The accounts of the battle of Preston 
 and skirmish at Clifton, are taken from the narrative of intelligent 
 eye-witnesses, and corrected from the History of the Rebellion by 
 the late venerable author of Douglas. The Lowland Scottish 
 gentlemen, and the subordinate characters, are not given as indi- 
 vidual . portraits, but are drawn from the general habits of the 
 period (of which I have witnessed some remnants in my younger 
 days), and partly gathered from tradition. 
 
 It has been my object to describe these persons, not by a carica- 
 tured and exaggerated use of the national dialect, but by their 
 habits, manners, and feelings ; so as in some distant degree to 
 emulate the admirable Irish portraits drawn by Miss Edgeworth, 
 so different from the " Teagues " and " dear joys," who so long, 
 with, the most perfect family resemblance to each other, occupied 
 the drama and the novel. 
 
 I feel no confidence, however, in the manner in which 1 have 
 executed my purpose. Indeed, so little was I satisfied with my 
 production, that I laid it aside in an unfinished state, and only 
 found it again by mere accident among other waste papers in an 
 old cabinet, the drawers of which I was rummaging, in order to 
 accommodate a friend with some fishing tackle, after it had been 
 mislaid for several years. 
 
 I would willingly persuade myself, that the preceding work will 
 not be found altogether uninteresting. To elder persons it will 
 recall scenes and characters familiar to their youth ; and to the 
 rising generation the tale may present some idea of the mannei-s of 
 their forefathers. 
 
NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 * p. 29.— Alas ! that attire, respecta- 
 ble and gentlemanlike in 1805, or 
 thereabouts, is now as antiquated as 
 the Author of Waverley has himself 
 become since that period ! The reader 
 of fashion wlU please to fill up the cos- 
 tume with an embroidered waistcoat 
 of purple velvet or silk, and a coat of 
 whatever colour he pleases. 
 
 * P- 3I-— Where the Chevalier Saint 
 George, or, as he was termed, the Old 
 Pretender, held his exiled court, as 
 his situation compelled him to shift 
 his place of residence. 
 
 * P. 32. — Long the oracle of the coim- 
 tiy gentlemen of the high Tory party. 
 The ancient News-Letter was written 
 in manuscript and copied by clerks, 
 who addressed the copies to the sub- 
 scribers. The politician by whom 
 they were compiled picked up his in- 
 teUigence at Coffee-houses, and often 
 pleaded for an additional gratuity, in 
 consideration of the extra expense at- 
 tached to frequenting such places of 
 fashionable resort. 
 
 * P. 42. — There is a family legend to 
 this purpose, belonging to the knightly 
 family of Bradshaigh, the proprietors 
 of Haigh-hall, in Lancashire, where, I 
 have been told, the event is recorded 
 on a painted glass window. The Ger- 
 man ballad of the ' ' Noble Moringer" 
 turns upon a similar topic. But un- 
 doubtedly many such incidents may 
 taken place, where, the distance being 
 great and the intercourse infrequent, 
 false reports concerning the fate of the 
 absent Crusaders, must have been 
 commonly circulated, and sometimes 
 perhaps rather hastily credited at 
 home. 
 
 * P. 45. — See Hoppner's tale of the 
 *' Seven Lovers." 
 
 * P. 51. — These Introductory Chap- 
 ters have been a good deal censured 
 as tedious and unnecessary. Yet there 
 are circinnstances recorded in them 
 which the author has not been able to 
 persuade himself to retract or cancel. 
 
 * P. 53. — The attachment to this 
 classic was, it is said, actually dis-. 
 played, in the manner mentioned in 
 
 the text, by an unfortunate Jacobite 
 in that unhappy period. He escaped 
 from the jail in which he was confined 
 for a hasty trial and certain con- 
 demnation, and was retalcen as he 
 hovered around the place in which he 
 had been imprisoned, for which he 
 could give no better reason than the 
 hope of recovering his favourite ' ' Titus 
 Livius. " I am sorry to add that the 
 simplicity of such a character was 
 found to form no apology for his 
 guilt as a rebel, and that he was con- 
 demned and executed. 
 
 * P. 56. — Nicholas Amhurst, a noted 
 political writer, who conducted for 
 many years a paper called the Crafts- 
 man, under the assumed name of 
 Caleb d'Anvers. He was devoted to 
 the Tory interest, and seconded, with 
 much abihty, the attacks of Pulteney 
 on Sir Robert Walpole. He died in 
 1742, neglected by his great patrons, 
 and in the most miserable circum- 
 stances. 
 
 " Amhurst survived the downfall of 
 Walpole's power, and had reason to 
 expect a reward for his labours. If 
 we excuse Bohngbroke, who had only 
 saved the shipwreck of his fortunes, 
 we shall be at a loss to justify Pulte- 
 ney, who could with ease have given 
 this man a considerable income. The 
 utmost of his generosity to Amhurst, 
 that I ever heard of, was a hogshead 
 of claret ! He died, it is supposed, of 
 a broken heart ; and was buried at 
 the charge of his honest printer, 
 Richard Francklin." — Lord Chester- 
 fielSs Characters Reviewed^ p. 42. 
 
 * P. 58. — I have now given in the text 
 the full name of this gallant and ex- 
 cellent man, and proceed to copy the 
 account of his remarkable conversion, 
 as related by Dr. Doddridge. 
 
 " This memorable event," says the 
 pious writer, "happened towards the 
 middle of July, 1719. The major had 
 spent the evening (and, if I mistake 
 not, it was the Sabbath) in some gay 
 company, and had an imhappy assig- 
 nation with a married woman, whom 
 he was to attend exactly at twelve. 
 c 
 
402 
 
 NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 The company broke up about eleven ; 
 and not ludging it convenient to anti- 
 cipate the time appointed, he went 
 into his chamber to kill the tedious 
 hour, perhaps with some amusing 
 book, or some other way. But it 
 very accidentally happened, that he 
 took up a religious book, which his 
 good mother or aunt had, without his 
 knowledge, slipped into his portman- 
 teau. It was called, if I remember the 
 title exactly, 'The Christian Soldier, or 
 Heaven taken by Storm ; ' and it was 
 written by Mr. Thomas Watson. 
 Guessing by the title of it that he 
 would find some phrases of his own 
 profession spiritualized in a manner 
 which he thought might afford him 
 some diversion, he resolved to dip 
 into it ; but he took no serious notice 
 of anything it had in it ; and yet 
 while this book was in his hand, an 
 impression was made upon his mind 
 (perhaps God only knows how) which 
 drew after it a train of the most im- 
 portant and happy consequences. He 
 thought he saw an unusual blaze of 
 light fall upon the book which he was 
 reading, which he at first imagined 
 might happen by some accident in the 
 candle ; but, lifting up his eyes, he 
 apprehended, to his extreme amaze- 
 ment, that there was before him, as it 
 were suspended in the air, a visible 
 representation of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ upon the cross, stuirounded on 
 all sides with a glory ; and was im- 
 pressed, as if a voice, or something 
 equivalent to a voice, had come to 
 him, to this effect (for he was not con- 
 fident as to the words) — ' Oh, sinner ! 
 did I suffer this for thee? and are 
 these thy returns ? ' Struck with so 
 amazing a phenomenon as this, there 
 remained hardly any hfe in him, so 
 that he sunk down in the arm-chair in 
 which he sat, and continued, he knew 
 not how long, insensible." 
 * P. 59. — The courtesy of an invitation 
 to partake a traveller's meal, or at 
 least that of being invited to share 
 whatever liquor the guest called for, 
 was "expected by certain old landlords 
 in Scotland, even in the youth of the 
 author. In requital, mine host was 
 always furnished with the news of the 
 country, and was probably a little of a 
 humourist to boot. The devolution 
 of the whole actual business and 
 drudgery of the inn upon the poor 
 
 gudewife, was very common among 
 the Scottish Bonifaces. There was in 
 ancient times, in the city of Edin- 
 burgh, a gentleman of good family, 
 who condescended, in order to gain a 
 livelihood, to become the nominal 
 keeper of a coffee-house, one of tb:! 
 first places of the kind which ha^ 
 been opened in the Scottish metropo- 
 lis. As usual, it was entirely managed 
 by the careful and industrious Mrs. 
 
 B ; while her husband amused 
 
 himself with field sports, without 
 troubling his head about the matter. 
 'Once upon a time the premises having 
 talten fire, the husband was met, 
 walking up the High Street loaded 
 with his guns and fishing rods, and 
 repHed calmly to some one who in- 
 quired after his wife, ' ' that the poor 
 woman was trying to save a parcel of 
 crockery, and some trumpery books ; " 
 the last being those which served her 
 to conduct the business of the house. 
 There were many elderly gentlemen 
 in the author's younger days, who 
 still held it part of the amusement of 
 a journey "to parley with mine host," 
 who often resembled, in his quaint 
 humoiu-, mine Host of the Garter in 
 the Merry Wives of Windsor ; or 
 Blague of the George in the Merry 
 Devil of Edmonton. Sometimes the 
 landlady took her share of entertain- 
 ing the company. In either case the 
 omitting to pay them due attention 
 gave displeasure, and perhaps brought 
 down a smart jest, as on the following 
 occasion ; — 
 
 A jolly dame, who, not " Sixty 
 Years since," kept the principal cara- 
 vansary at Greenlaw, in Berwickshire, 
 had the honour to receive under her 
 roof a very worthy clergyman, with 
 three sons of the same profession, 
 each having a cmre of souls ; be it 
 said in passing, none of the reverend 
 party were reckoned powerful in the 
 pulpit. After dinner was over, the 
 worthy senior, in the pride of his heart, 
 asked Mrs. Buchan whether she ever 
 had such a party in her house before. 
 "Here sit I," he said, "a placed 
 minister of the Kirk of Scotland, and 
 there sit my three sons, each a placed 
 minister of the same kirk.^;onfess, 
 Luckie Buchan, you never had such a 
 party in your house before." The 
 question was not premised by any in- 
 vitation to sit down and take a glass 
 
NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 403 
 
 of wine or the like, so Mrs. B. 
 answered dryly, "Indeed, sir, I can- 
 not just say that ever I had such 
 a party in my house before, except 
 once in the forty-five, when I had a 
 Highland piper here, with his three 
 sons, all Highland pipers ; and deil a 
 spring they could play amang them." 
 
 * P. 64. — ^There is no particular man- 
 sion described under the name of 
 Tully-Veolan ; but the peculiarities of 
 the description occur in various old 
 Scottish Seats. The House of War- 
 render upon Bumtsfield Linl<s, and 
 that of Old Ravelston, belonging, the 
 former to Sir George Warrender, the 
 latter to Sir Alexander Keith, have 
 both contributed several hints to the 
 description in the text. The House 
 of Dean, near Edinburgh, has also 
 some points of resemblance with 
 Tully-Veolan. The author, has, how- 
 ever, been informed that the House of 
 Grandtully resembles that of the Baron 
 of Bradwardine still more than any of 
 the above. 
 
 * P. 64. — At Ravelston may be seen 
 such a garden, which the taste of the 
 proprietor, the author's friend and 
 kinsman. Sir Alexander Keith, Knight 
 Mareschal, has judiciously preserved. 
 
 ^ P. 68. — I am ignorant how long the 
 ancient and estabhshed custom of 
 keeping fools has been disused in 
 England. Swift writes an epitaph on 
 the Earl of Suffolk's fool, — 
 "Whose name was Dickie Pearce.'' 
 In Scotland, the custom subsisted till 
 late in the last century. At Glammis 
 Castle is preserved the dress of one of 
 the jesters, very handsome, and orna- 
 mented with many bells. It is not 
 above thirty years since such a cha- 
 racter stood by the sideboard of a 
 nobleman of the first rank in Scotland, 
 and occasionally mixed in the conver- 
 sation, till he carried the joke rather 
 too far, in making proposals to one of 
 the' young ladies of the family, and 
 publishing the banils betvrixt her and 
 himself in the public church. 
 
 » P. 72.— After the Revolution of 1688, 
 and on some occasions when the 
 spirit of the Presbyterians had been 
 unusually animated against their oppo- 
 nents, the Episcopal clergymen, who 
 were chiefly non-jurors, were exposed 
 to be mobbed, as we should now say, 
 or rabbled, as the phrase then went, 
 to expiate their political heresies. But 
 
 notwithstanding that the Presbyterians 
 had the persecution in Charles II. and 
 his brother's time, to exasperate them, 
 there was little mischief done beyond 
 the kind of petty violence mentioned 
 in the text. 
 
 * P. 75. — Southey's Madoc. 
 
 * P. 76. — I may here mention, that 
 the fashion of compotation described 
 in the text, was still occasionally prac- 
 tised in Scotland in the author's 
 youth. A company, after having 
 talten leave of tlieir host, often went 
 to finish the evening at the clachan. 
 or village, in "womb of tavern." 
 Their entertainer always accompanied 
 them to take the stirrup-cup, which 
 often occasioned a long and late revel. 
 
 The Poculuvi Potatorium of the 
 valiant Baron, his blessed Bear, has a 
 prototype at the ■ fine old Castle of 
 Glammis, so rich in the memorials of 
 ancient times ; it is a massive beaker 
 of silver, double gilt, moulded into the 
 shape of a Hon, and holding about an 
 English pint of wine. The form al- 
 ludes to the family name of Strath- 
 more, which is Lyon, and, when 
 exhibited, the cup must necessarily be 
 emptied to the Earl's health. The 
 author ought perhaps to be ashamed 
 of recording that he has had the ho- 
 nour of swallowing the contents of the 
 Lion ; and the recollection of the feat 
 served to suggest the story of "The 
 Bear of Bradwardine." In the family 
 of Scott of Thirlestane (not Thirles- 
 tane in the Forest, but the place of 
 the same name' in Roxburghshire) was 
 long preserved a cup of the same kind, 
 in the form of a jack-boot. Each guest 
 was obhged to empty this at his de- 
 parture. If the guest's name was 
 Scott, the necessity was doubly im- 
 perative. 
 
 ■\Vhen the landlord of an inn pre- 
 sented his guests with deoch an doricis, 
 that is, the drinlc at the door, or the 
 stirrup-cup, the draught was not 
 charged in the reckoning. On this 
 point a learned Bailie of the town of 
 Forfar pronounced a very sound judg- 
 ment. 
 
 A., an ale-wife in Forfar, had 
 brewed her "peck of malt," and set 
 the liquor out of doors to cool ; the 
 cow of B., a neighbour of A., chanced 
 to come by, and seeing the good 
 beverage, was allured 10 taste it, and 
 finally to drink it up. When A. came 
 
 C C 2 
 
404 
 
 NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 to take in her liquor, she found her 
 tub empty, and from the cow's stag- 
 gering and staring, so as to betray 
 her intemperance, she easily divined 
 the mode in which her " browst " had 
 disappeared. To talce vengeance on 
 Crummie's ribs with a stick, was her 
 first effort. The roaring of the cow 
 brought B., her master, who re- 
 monstrated with his angry neighbour, 
 and received in reply a demand for 
 the value of the ale which Crummie 
 had drunk up. B. refused payment, 
 and was conveyed before C, the 
 Bailie, or sitting Magistrate. He 
 heard the case patiently ; and then 
 demanded of the plaintiff A. whether 
 the cow had sat down to her potation, 
 or taken it standing. The plaintiff 
 answered, she had not seen the deed 
 committed, but she supposed the cow 
 drank the ale while standing on her 
 feet ; adding, that had she been near, 
 she would have made her use them to 
 some purpose. The Bailie, on this 
 admission, solemnly adjudged the 
 cow's drink to be deoch an doruis — a 
 stirrup-cup, for which no charge 
 could be made, without violating the 
 ancient hospitality of Scotland. 
 
 * P. 77. — This has been censured as 
 an anachronism ; and it must be con- 
 fessed that agricultiu-e of this kind 
 was unknown to the Scotch Sixty 
 years since. 
 
 * P. 77. — Suum cuique. This snatch 
 of a ballad was composed by Andrew 
 MacDonald, the ingenious and un- 
 fortunate author of Vimonda. 
 
 * P. 83. — ^The learned in cookery dis- 
 sent from the Baron of Bradwardine, 
 and hold the roe venison dry and in- 
 different food, unless when cfressed in 
 soup and Scotch collops. 
 
 * P. 86.— A bare-footed Highland lad 
 is called a gillie-wet-foot. Gillie, in 
 general, means servant or attendant. 
 
 * P. 87. — ^The Baron ought to have 
 remembered that the joyous Allan 
 literally drew his blood from the house 
 of the noble Earl, whom he terms — 
 
 Dalhousie of an old descent. 
 
 My stoop, my pride, my ornament. 
 
 * P. 92. — "The story last told, was said 
 to have happened in the south of 
 Scotland ; but — csdant arma togm — 
 and let the gown have its dues. It 
 was an old clergyman, who had wis- 
 dom and firmness enough to resist the 
 panic which seized his brethren, who 
 
 was the means of rescuing a poor in- 
 sane creature from the cruel fate which 
 would otherwise have overtaken her. 
 The accounts of the trials for witch- 
 craft form one of the most deplorable 
 chapters in Scottish story. 
 
 * P. 94. — ^Although canting heraldry is 
 generally reprobated, it seems never- 
 theless to have been adopted in the 
 arms andmottos of many honourable 
 families. Thus the motto of the Ver- 
 nons, Ver non semper viret, is a per- 
 fect pim ; and so is that of the On- 
 slows, Fesiina lente. The Periissevi 
 ni fer-iissem of the Anstruthers is 
 liable to a similar objection. One of 
 that ancient race, finding that an an- 
 tagonist, with whom he had fixed a 
 friendly meeting, was determined to 
 take the opportunity of assassinating 
 him, prevented the hazard by dashing 
 out his brains with a battle-axe. Two 
 sturdy arms, brandishing such a 
 weapon, form the usual crest of the 
 family, with the above motto — Periis- 
 sem. ni ^er-iissem — (I had died, unless 
 I had gone through with it). 
 
 * P. 98. — ^Ac?-«3^X was an incursion for 
 pltmder, termed on theBordera razrf. 
 
 * P. 100. — Sornars may be translated 
 sturdy beggars, more especially indi- 
 cating those unwelcome visitors who 
 exact lodgings and victuals by force, 
 or something approaching to it. 
 
 * P. 104. — Mac-Donald of Barrisdale, 
 one of the very last Highland gentle- 
 men who carried on the plundering 
 system to any great extent, was a 
 scholar and a weU-bred gentleman. 
 He engraved on his broadswords the 
 well-known lines — 
 
 Has tibi erunt artes — ^pacisque im- 
 ponere morem, 
 
 Parcere subjectis, et debellare su- 
 perbos. 
 Indeed, the levying of black-mail 
 was, before 1745, practised by several 
 chiefs of very high rank, who, in doing 
 so, contended that they were lending 
 the laws the assistance of their arms 
 and swords, and affording a protec- 
 tion which could not be obtained from 
 the magistracy in the disturbed state 
 of the country. The author has seen 
 a Memoir of Mac-Pherson of Cluny, 
 Chief of that ancient clan, from which 
 it appears that he levied protection- 
 money to a very large amount, which 
 was willingly paid even by some of 
 his most powerful neighbours. A gen- 
 
NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 405 
 
 tleman of this clan hearing a clergy- 
 man hold forth to his congregation on 
 the crime of theft, interrupted the 
 preacher to assure him, he might leave 
 the enforcement of such doctrines to 
 Cluny Mac-Pherson, whose broad- 
 sword woTild put a stop to theft sooner 
 than aU the sermons of all the ministers 
 of the Synod. 
 
 * P. 107.— The Town-guard of Edin- 
 burgh were, tiU a late period, armed 
 with this weapon when on their police 
 duty. There was a hook at the back 
 of the axe, which the ancient High- 
 landers used to assist them to cHmb 
 over walls, fixing the hook upon it, 
 and raising themselves by the handle. 
 The axe, which was also much used by 
 the natives of Ireland, is supposed to 
 have been introduced into both coun- 
 tries from Scandinavia. 
 
 * P. no. — It is not the weeping birch, 
 the most common species in the High- 
 lands, but the woolly-leaved Lowland 
 birch that is distinguished by this 
 fragrance. 
 
 •^ P. 112. — ^An adventure, very similar 
 to what is here stated, actually befell 
 the late Mr. Abercromby of Tullibody, 
 grandfather of the present Lord Aber- 
 cromby, and father of the celebrated 
 Sir Ralph. When this gentleman, 
 who lived to a very advanced period 
 of life, first settled in Stirlingshire, 
 his cattle were repeatedly driven off 
 by the celebrated Rob Roy, or some 
 of his gang ; and at length he was 
 obliged, after obtaining a proper safe- 
 conduct, to malce the cateran such a 
 "visit as that of Waverley to Bean Lean 
 in the text. Rob received him with 
 much courtesy, and made many apo- 
 logies for the accident, which must 
 have happened, he said, through some 
 mistake. Mr. Abercromby was regaled 
 ■with collops from two of his own cattle, 
 which were hung up by the heels in 
 the cavern, and was dismissed in per- 
 -feet safety, after having agreed to pay 
 in future a small sum of black-mail, in 
 consideration of which Rob Roy not 
 ■only undertook to forbear his herds 
 in future, but to replace any that 
 should be stolen from him by other 
 freebooters. Mr. Abercromby said, 
 Rob Roy affected to consider him as 
 a friend to the Jacobite interest, and 
 a. sincere enemy to the Union. Neither 
 of these circumstances were true ; but 
 the laird thought it quite unnecessary 
 
 to undeceive his Highland host at the 
 risk of bringing on a political dispute 
 in such a situation. This anecdote I 
 received many years since (about 1792) 
 from the mouth of the venerable gen- 
 tleman who was concerned in it. 
 
 * P. 113. — ^This was the regale pre- 
 sented by Rob Roy to the Laird of 
 Tullibody. 
 
 * P. 119. — This celebrated gibbet was, 
 in the memory of the last generation, 
 stUl standing at the western end of the 
 town of Crieff, in Perthshire. Why it 
 was called the kind gallows, we are 
 unable to inform the reader with cer- 
 tainty ; but it is alleged that the High- 
 landers used to touch their bonnets as 
 they passed a place, which had been 
 fatal to many of their countrymen, 
 with the ejaculation — " God bless her 
 nainsell, and the Tiel tamn you ! " It 
 may therefore have been called kind, 
 as being a sort of native or kindred 
 place of doom to those who suffered 
 there, as in fulfilment of a natural 
 destiny. 
 
 * P. 121. — The story of the bride- 
 groom carried off by caterans, on his 
 bridal-day, is taken from one which 
 was told to the author by the late 
 Laird of Mac-Nab many years since. 
 To carry off persons from the Low- 
 lands, and to put them to ransom, 
 was a common practice with the wild 
 Highlanders, as it is said to be at the 
 present day with the banditti in the 
 south of Italy. Upon the occasion 
 alluded to, a party of caterans car- 
 ried off the bridegroom, and secreted 
 him in some cave near the mountain 
 of Schihallion. The young man 
 caught the smaU-pox before his ran- 
 som could be agreed on ; and whether 
 it was the fine cool air of the place, or 
 the want of medical attendance, Mac- 
 Nab did not pretend to be positive ; 
 but so it was, that the prisoner re- 
 covered, his ransom was paid, and he 
 was restored to his friends and bride, 
 but always considered the Highland 
 robbers as having saved his hfe, by 
 their treatment of his malady. 
 
 * P. 122. — The Scotch are hberal in 
 computing their land and liquor ; the 
 Scottish pint corresponds to two 
 Enghsh quarts. As for their coin, 
 every one knows the couplet- 
 How can the rogues pretend to sense ? 
 Their pound is only twenty pence. 
 
 * P. 125. — This happened on many 
 
4o6 
 
 NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 occasions. Indeed, it was not till 
 after the total destruction of the clan 
 influence, after 1745, that purchasers 
 could be found, who offered a fair 
 price for the estates forfeited in 1715, 
 which were then brought to sale by 
 the creditors of the York-Buildings 
 Company, who had purchased the 
 whole or greater part from Govern- 
 ment at a very small price. Even so 
 late as the period first mentioned, the 
 prejudices of the public in favour of 
 the heirs of the forfeited families threw 
 various impediments in the way of 
 the purchasers of such property. 
 
 * P. 126. — This sort of political game 
 ascribed to Mac-Ivor was in reality 
 played by several Highland chiefs, the 
 celebrated Lord Lovat in particular, 
 who used that kind of finesse to the 
 
 uttermost. The Laird of Mac 
 
 was also captain of an independent 
 company, but valued the sweets of 
 present pay too well to incur the risk 
 of losing them in the Jacobite cause. 
 His martial consort raised his clan, 
 and headed it in 1745. But the chief 
 himself would have nothing to do 
 with king-maldng, declaring him- 
 self for that monarch, and no other, 
 
 who gave the Laird of Mac ' ' half- 
 
 a-guinea the day, and half-a-guinea 
 the mom." 
 
 * P. 129. — In explanation of the mili- 
 tary exercise observed at the Castle of 
 Glennaquoich, the author begs to 
 remark, that the Highlanders were 
 not only well practised in the use of 
 the broadsword, firelock, and most of 
 the manly sports and trials of strength 
 common throughout Scotland, but 
 also used a peculiar sort of drill, 
 suited to their own dress and mode of 
 warfare. There were, for instance, 
 different modes of disposing the plaid, 
 one when on a peaceful journey, 
 another when danger was appre- 
 hended ; one way of enveloping them- 
 selves in it when expecting undis- 
 turbed repose, and another which 
 enabled them to start up with sword 
 and pistol in hand on the shghtest 
 alarm. Previous to 1720, or there- 
 abouts, the belted plaid was univer- 
 sally worn, in which the portion which 
 surrounded the middle of the wearer, 
 and that which was flung around his 
 shoulders, were all of the same piece 
 of tartan. In a desperate onset, all 
 was thrownaway, and the clan charged 
 
 bare beneath the doublet, save for an 
 artificial arrangement of the shirt, 
 which, like that of the Irish, was 
 always ample, and for the sporran- 
 mollach or goat's-skin purse. The 
 manner of handling the pistol and 
 dirk was also part of the Highland 
 manual exercise, which the author har 
 seen gone through by men who had 
 learned it in their youth. 
 
 * P. 130. — Pork, or swine's flesh, in 
 any shape, was, till of late years, much 
 abominated by the Scotch, nor is it 
 yet a favourite food amongst them. 
 King Jamie carried this prejudice to 
 England, and is known to have ab- 
 horred pork almost as much as he did 
 tobacco. Ben Jonson has recorded 
 this peculiarity, where the gipsy in a 
 masque, examining the king's hand, 
 says, — 
 
 " you should, by tliis line. 
 
 Love a horse, and a hound, butno part 
 
 of a swine. " 
 
 The GipHes Metamorphosed. 
 James's own proposed banquet for the 
 "Devil, was a loin of pork and a poll 
 of hng, with a pipe of tobacco for 
 digestion. 
 
 * P. 131. — In the number of persons 
 of all ranks who assembled at the 
 same table, though by no means to 
 discuss the same fare, the Highland 
 chiefs only retained a custom which 
 had been formerly universally ob- 
 served throughout Scotland. "I my- 
 self," says the traveller, Fynes Morri- 
 son, in file end of Queen Elizabeth's 
 reign, the scene being the Lowlands 
 of Scotland, "was at a knight's 
 house, who had many servants ta 
 attend him, that brought in his meat 
 with their heads covered with blue 
 caps, the table being more than half 
 furnished vrith great platters of por- 
 ridge, each having- a little piece of 
 sodden meat. And when the table 
 was served, the servants did sit down 
 with us ; but the upper mess, instead 
 of porridge, had a pullet, with some 
 prunes in the broth. ' 
 
 Till within this last century, the- 
 farmers, even of a respectable condi- 
 tion, dined vrith their work-people. 
 The difference betvrixt those of higb 
 degree, was ascertained by the place- 
 of the party above or below the salt, 
 or, sometimes, by a line drawn -with 
 chalk on the dining-table. Lord 
 Lovat, who knew well how to feed the 
 
NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 407 
 
 vanity and restrain the appetites of 
 his clansmen, allowed each sturdy 
 Eraser, who had the slightest preten- 
 sion to be a Duinhewassel, the fuU 
 honour of the sitting, but, at the same 
 time, took care that his young kins- 
 men did not acquire at his table any 
 taste for outlandish luxuries. His 
 Lordship was always ready with some 
 honourable apology, whyforeign wines 
 and French brandy — dehcacies which 
 he conceived might sap the habits 
 of his cousins — should not circulate 
 past an assigned point on the table. 
 
 * P. 138. —In the Irish ballads relating 
 to Fion (the Fingal of Mac-Pherson), 
 there occurs, as in the primitive 
 poetry of most nations, a cycle of 
 heroes, each of whom has some dis- 
 tinguishing attribute : upon these 
 qualities, and the adventures of those 
 possessing them, many proverbs are 
 formed, which are still current in the 
 Highlands. Among other characters, 
 Conan is distinguished as in some 
 respects a kind of Thersites, but brave 
 and daring even to rashness. He had 
 made a vow that he would never take 
 a blow without returning it ; and 
 having, like other heroes of antiquity, 
 descended to the infernal regions, he 
 received a cuff from the Arch-fiend, 
 who presided there, which he instantly 
 returned, using the expression in the 
 text. Sometimes the proverb is 
 worded thus : — " Claw for claw, and 
 the devil take the shortest nails, as 
 Conan said to the deviL" 
 
 * P. 138.— The Highland poet aknost 
 always was an improvisatore. Burt 
 met one of them at Lovat's table. 
 
 * P. 141. — The description of the 
 waterfall mentioned in this chapter is 
 taken from that of Ledeard, at the 
 farm so called on the northern side of 
 Lochard, and near the head of the 
 Lake, four or five miles from Aber- 
 foyle. It is upon a small scale, but 
 otherwise one of the most exquisite 
 cascades it is possible to behold. The 
 appearance of Flora with the harp, as 
 described, has been justly censured as 
 too theatrical and affected for the 
 lady-hke simplicity of her character. 
 But something may be allowed to her 
 French education, in which point and 
 striking effect always malce a consi- 
 derable object. 
 
 * P. 143. — The young and daring Ad- 
 venturer, Charles Edward, landed at 
 
 Glenaladale, in Moidart, and displayed 
 his standard in the valley of Glenfin- 
 dan, mustering around it the Mac- 
 Donalds, the Camerons, and other 
 less numerous clans, whom he had 
 prevailed on to join him. There is a 
 monument erected on the spot, with a 
 Latin inscription by the late Dr. Gre ■ 
 gory. — The Marquis of TuUibardine's 
 elder brother, who, long exiled, re- 
 turned to Scotland with Charles Ed- 
 ward in 1745. 
 
 * P. I4S-— 
 
 Goodsooth, Irecknotof yourHelicon ; 
 Drink water whoso will, in faith I will 
 drink none. 
 
 * P. 146. — This ancient Gaelic ditty is 
 still well known, both in the High- 
 lands and in Ireland. It was trans- 
 lated into English, and published, if 
 I mistalce not, under the auspices of 
 the facetious Tom D'Urfey, by the 
 title of " CoUey, my Cow." 
 
 * P. 146. — The thrust from the tynes, 
 or branches, of the stag's horns, 
 were accounted far more dangerous 
 than those of the boar's tusk : — 
 
 If thou be hurt with horn of stag, it 
 
 brings thee to thy bier. 
 But barber's hand shall boar's hurt 
 
 heal ; therefore have thou no fear. 
 
 * P. 15T. — This garb, which resembled 
 the dress often put on children in 
 Scotland, called a polonie [i. e. polo- 
 naise), is a very ancient modification 
 of the Highland garb. It was, in 
 fact, the hauberk or shirt of mail, 
 only composed of cloth instead of 
 rings of armour. 
 
 * P. 152. — Old Highlanders' will still 
 make the deasil around those whom 
 they wish well to. To go round a 
 person in the opposite direction, ,or 
 ■wiiher-chins {German wider-shins) is 
 unlucky, and a sort of incantation. 
 
 * P. r53. — This metrical spell, or 
 something hke it, is preserved by Regi- 
 nald Scott, in his work on Witchcraft. 
 
 * P. IS3-— 
 
 On the morrow they made their biers, 
 Of birch and hazel grey. 
 
 Chevy Chase. 
 
 * P. r53. — The author has been some- 
 times accused of confounding fiction 
 with reality. He therefore thinks it 
 necessary to state, that the circum- 
 stance of the hunting described in the 
 text as, preparatory to the insurrection 
 of 1745, is, so far as he knows, en- 
 
4oS 
 
 NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 tirely imaginary. But it is well known 
 such a great hunting was held in the 
 Forest of Braemar, under the auspices 
 of the Earl of Mar, as preparatory to 
 the Rebellion of 1715 ; and most of 
 the Highland chieftains who after- 
 wards engaged in that civil commo- 
 tion were present on this occasion. 
 
 * P. 155. — Corresponding to the Low- 
 land saying, ' ' Mony ane speirs the 
 gate they ken fu' weel." 
 
 * P. 175. — ^These lines form the biuden 
 of an old song to which Bums wrote 
 additional verses. 
 
 * P. 175. — These lines are also an- 
 cient, and I beUeve to the tune of 
 "We'll never have peace till Jamie 
 comes hame ;" 
 
 to which Bums likewise vn'ote some 
 verses. 
 
 * P. 178. — ^A Highland rhyme on 
 Glencaim's Expedition, in 1650, has 
 these lines — ■ 
 
 ' ' We'll bide a while among ta crows. 
 We'll wiske ta sword and bend ta 
 bows." 
 
 * P. 179.- — The Oggam is a species of 
 the old Irish character. The idea of 
 the correspondence betwixt the Celtic 
 and Punic, founded on a scene in 
 Plauttis, was not started till General 
 Vallancey set up his theory, long after 
 the date of Fergus Mac-Ivor. 
 
 * P. 181. — The sanguine Jacobites, 
 during the eventful years 1745-6, kept 
 up the spirits of their party by the 
 rumour of descents from France on 
 behalf of the Chevalier St. George. 
 The Highlander, in former times, had 
 always a high idea of his own genti- 
 lity, and was anxious to impress the 
 same upon those with whom he con- 
 versed. His language abounded in 
 the phrases of courtesy and compli- 
 ment ; and the habit of carrying 
 arms, and mixing with those who did 
 so, made it particularly desirable they 
 should tise cautious poHteness in their 
 intercourse with each other. 
 
 * P. 192. — The Rev, John Eiskine, 
 D.D., an eminent Scottish divine, and 
 a most excellent man, headed the 
 Evangelical party in the Church of 
 Scotland at the time when the cele- 
 brated Dr. Robertson, the historian, 
 was the leader of the Moderate party. 
 These two distinguished persons were 
 colleagues in the Old Grey Friars' 
 Church, Edinburgh ; and, however 
 much they differed in church politics. 
 
 preserved the most perfect harmony 
 as private friends, and as clergymen 
 serving the same ciure. 
 
 * P. 226.— The clan of Mac-Farlane, 
 occupying the fastnesses of the west- 
 em side of Loch Lomond, were great 
 depredators on the Low Country ; 
 and as their excursions were made 
 usually by night, the moon was pro- 
 verbially called their lantern. Their 
 celebrated pibroch of Hoggil nam Bo, 
 which is the name of their gathering 
 tune, intimates similar practices, — the 
 sense being — 
 
 We are bound to drive the bullocks. 
 All by hollows, hirsts, and hillocks. 
 
 Through the sleet, and through the 
 When the moon is beaming low [rain. 
 On frozen lalie and hills of snow. 
 Bold and heartily we go ; 
 
 And all for little gain. 
 
 * P. 227. — This noble rain is dear to 
 my recollection, from associations 
 which have been long and painfully 
 broken. It holds a commanding sta- 
 tion on the banks of the river Teith, 
 and has been one of the largest castles 
 in Scotland. Murdoch, Dulte of Al- 
 bany, the founder of this stately pile, 
 was beheaded on the Castle-hill of 
 Stirling, from which he might see the 
 towers of Doune, the monument of 
 his fallen greatness. 
 
 In 1745-6, as stated in the text, a 
 garrison on the part of the Chevalier 
 was put into the castle, then less 
 ruinous than at present. This 
 castle became at that time the 
 actual scene of a romantic escape 
 made by John Home, the author of 
 Douglas, and some other prisoners, 
 who, having been taken at the battle 
 of Falkirk, were confined there by the 
 insurgents. The poet, who had in 
 his own mind a large stock of that 
 romantic and enthusiastic spirit of 
 adventure, which he has described as 
 animating the youthful hero of his 
 drama, devised and undertook the 
 perilous enterprise of escaping from 
 his prison. He inspired his com- 
 panions with his ■ sentiments, and 
 when every attempt at open force was 
 deemed hopeless, they resolved to 
 twist their bed-clothes into ropes, and 
 ' thus to descend. Four persons, vritii 
 Home himself, reached the ground in 
 safety. But the rope broke with the 
 fifth, who was a tall lusty man. The ■ 
 sixth was Thomas Barrow, a brave 
 
NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 409 
 
 young Englishman, a particular friend 
 of Home's. Determined to take the 
 risk, even in such unfavourable cir- 
 cumstances, Barrow committed him- 
 self to the broken rope, slid down on 
 it as far as it could assist him, and 
 then let himself drop. His friends 
 beneath succeeded in breaking his 
 fall. Nevertheless, he dislocated his 
 ancle, and had several of his ribs 
 broken. His companions, however, 
 were able to bear him off in safety. 
 
 The Highlanders next morning 
 sought for their prisoners, with great 
 activity. An old gentleman told the 
 author he remembered seeing the 
 commander Macgrigor, 
 ' ' Bloody with spiuring, fiery red with 
 
 haste," 
 riding furiously through the country 
 in quest of the fugitives. 
 
 * P. 231. — The Judges of the Supreme 
 Court of Session in Scotland are pro- 
 verbially termed, among the country 
 people. The Fifteen. 
 
 * P. 232. — Togo out, Qx to have been 
 out, in Scotland, was a conventional 
 phrase similar to that of the Irish re- 
 specting a man having been up, both 
 having reference to an individual who 
 had been engaged in insurrection. It 
 was accounted ill-breeding in Scot- 
 land, about fortyyears since, to use the 
 phrase rebellion ot rebel, which might 
 be interpreted by some of the parties 
 present as a personal insult. It was 
 also esteemed more poUte even for 
 stanch Whigs to denominate Charles 
 Edward the Chevalier, than to speak 
 of him as the Pretender ; and this 
 Idnd of accommodating courtesy was 
 usually observed in society where indi- 
 viduals of each party mixed on friendly 
 terms. 
 
 * P. 237. — The Jacobite sentiments 
 were general among the western coun- 
 ties, and in Wales. But although 
 the great families of the Wynnes, the 
 Wyndhams, and others, had come 
 under an actual obligation to join 
 Prince Charles if he should land, they 
 had done so under the express stipu- 
 lation, that he should be assisted by 
 r.n auxiliary army of French, without 
 which they foresaw the enterprise 
 would be desperate. Wishing weU to 
 his cause, therefore, and watching an 
 opportmiity to join him, they did not, 
 nevertheless, think themselves bound 
 in honour to do so, as he was only 
 
 supported by a body of wild moun- 
 taineers, speaking an uncouth dialect, 
 and wearing a singular dress. The 
 race up to Derby struck them with 
 more dread than admiration. But it 
 was difScult to say what the effect 
 might have been, had either the battle 
 of Preston or Falkirk been fought and 
 won during the advance into England. 
 
 * P. 240. — DivisiCHis early showed 
 themselves ip the Chevalier's httle 
 army, not on\y amongst the indepen- 
 dent chieftains, who were far too 
 proud to brook subjection to each 
 other, but betwixt the Scotch, and 
 Charles's governor O'Sullivan, an 
 Irishman by birth, who, with some of 
 his countrymen bred in the Irish 
 Brigade in the service of the King of 
 France, had an influence with the 
 Adventurer, much resented by the 
 Highlanders, who were sensible that 
 their own clans made the chief or 
 rather the only strength of his enter- 
 prise. There was a feud also, between 
 Lord George Murray, and James 
 Murray of Broughton, the Prince's 
 secretary, whose disunion greatly em- 
 barrassed the affairs of the Adventurer. 
 In general, a thousand different pre- 
 tensions divided their httle army, and 
 finally contributed in no small degree 
 to its overthrow. 
 
 * P. 247. — The i?OMfe//i! was an armed 
 vessel, which brought a small supply 
 of money and arms from France for 
 the use of the insurgents. 
 
 * P. 248. — Old women, on whom de- 
 volved the duty of lamenting for the 
 dead, which the Irish call Keennhig. 
 
 * P. 250. — These lines, or something 
 Mice them, occur in an old Magazme 
 of the period. 
 
 * P. 254. — They occur in Miss Se- 
 ward's fine verses, beginning — 
 
 "Tothyrocks, stormy Lannow, adieu." 
 
 * P. 256. — ^Which is, or was wont to 
 be, the old air of " Good-night, and 
 joy be wi' you a' ! " 
 
 * P. 257. — The main body of the 
 Highland army encamped, or rather 
 bivouacked, in that part of the King's 
 Park which lies towards the village of 
 Duddingston. 
 
 * P. 261. — This circumstance, which 
 is historical, as well as the description 
 that precedes it, will remind the 
 reader of the war of I^a Vendue, in 
 which the royalists, consisting chiefly 
 of insvugent peasantry, attached a 
 
410 
 
 NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 prodigious and even superstitious in- 
 terest to the possession of a piece of 
 brass ordnance, which they called 
 Marie Jeane. 
 
 The Highlanders of an early period 
 were afraid of cannon, with the noise 
 and effect of which they were totally 
 unacquainted. It was by means of 
 three or fotur small pieces of artillery, 
 that the Earls of Huntly and Errol, 
 in James VI. 's time, gained a great 
 victory at Glenlivat, over a numerous 
 Highland army, commanded by the 
 Earl of Argyle. At the battle of 
 the Bridge of Dee, General Middle- 
 ton obtained by his artillery a similar 
 success, the Highlanders not being able 
 to stand the discharge of Musket' s- 
 Motker, which was the name they 
 bestowed on great guns. In an old 
 ballad on the battle of the Bridge of 
 Dee, these verses occur : — 
 
 ' ' The Highlandmen are pretty men 
 For handling sword and shield. 
 But yet they are but simple men 
 To stand a stricken field. 
 " The Highlandmen are pretty men 
 For target and claymore. 
 But yet they are but naked men 
 To face the cannon's roar. > 
 " For the cannons roar on a summer 
 Like thunder in the air ; [night 
 Was never man in Highland garb 
 Would face the cannon fair." 
 
 But the Highlanders of 1745 had got 
 far beyond the simplicity of their 
 forefathers, and showed throughout 
 the whole war how little they dreaded 
 artillery, although the common people 
 still attached some consequence to 
 the possession of the field-piece which 
 led to this disquisition. 
 
 * P. 262. — Bran, the well-known dog 
 of Fingal, is often the theme of High- 
 land proverb as well as song. 
 
 * P. 265. — Scottice for followers. 
 
 * P. 271. — ^The faithful friend who 
 pointed out the pass by which the 
 Highlanders moved from Tranent to 
 Seaton, was Robert Anderson, junior, 
 of Whitburgh, a gentleman of pro- 
 perty in East Lothian. He had been 
 interrogated by the Lord George 
 Murray concerning the possibility of 
 crossing the uncouth and marshy 
 piece of ground which divided the 
 armies, and which he described as 
 impracticable. When dismissed, he 
 
 recollected that there was a circuitous 
 path leading eastward through the 
 marsh into the plain, by which the 
 
 . Highlanders might turn the flank of 
 Sir John Cope's position, without 
 being exposed to the enemy's fire. 
 Having mentioned his opinion to Mr. 
 Hepburn of Keith, who instantly saw 
 its importance, he was encouraged by 
 that gentleman to awake Lord George 
 Murray, and communicate the idea 
 to him. Lord George received the 
 information with grateful thanlcs, and 
 instantly awakened Prince Charles, 
 who was sleeping in the field with a 
 bunch of pease under his head. The 
 Adventurer received with alacrity the 
 news that there was a possibiUty of 
 bringing an excellently provided army 
 to a decisive battle with his ovm irre- 
 gular forces. His joy on the occasion 
 was not very consistent vrith the 
 charge of cowardice brought against 
 him by Chevalier Johnstone, a discon- 
 tented follower, whose Memoirs pos- 
 sess at least as much of a romantic as 
 a historical character. Even by the 
 account of the Chevalier himself, the 
 Prince was at the head of the second 
 line of the Highland army during the 
 battle, of which he says, " It was 
 gained with such rapidity, that in the 
 second line, where I was still by the 
 side of the Prince, we saw no other 
 enemy than those who were lying on 
 the ground IdUed and wounded, ikotigh 
 ■we were not m-ore than fifiy paces be- 
 hind our first line, running always 
 as fast as we could to overtake ikem." 
 This passage in the Chevalier's Me- 
 moirs places the Prince within fifty 
 paces of the heat of the battle, a posi- 
 tion which would never have been the 
 choice of one unwilling to take a 
 share of its dangers. Indeed, unless 
 the chiefs had complied with the young 
 Adventurer's proposal to lead the van 
 in person, it does not appear that he 
 could have been deeper in the action. 
 
 * P. 274. — The death of this good 
 Christian and gallant man is thus 
 given by his affectionate biographer. 
 Dr. Doddridge, from the evidence of 
 eye-witnesses : — 
 
 ' ' He continued all night undef 
 arms, wrapped up in his cloak, and 
 generally sheltered under a rick of 
 barley, which happened to be in the 
 field. About three in the morning he 
 called his domestic servants to him, of 
 
NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 411 
 
 which there were four in waiting. He 
 dismissed three of them with most 
 affectionate Christian advice, and such 
 solemn charges relating to the per- 
 formance of their duty, and the care 
 of their souls, as seemed plainly to in- 
 timate that he apprehended it was at 
 least very probable he was talcing his 
 last farewell of them. There is great 
 reason to believe that he spent the 
 little remainder of the time, which 
 fcould not be much above an hour, in 
 those devout exercises of soul which 
 had been so long habitual to him, and 
 to which so many circumstances did 
 then concur to call him. The army 
 was alarmed, by brealc of day, by the 
 noise of the rebels' approach, and the 
 attack was made before sunrise, yet 
 when it was light enough to discern 
 what passed. As soon as the enemy 
 came within gun-shot they made a 
 furious fire ; and it is said that the 
 dragoons which constituted the left 
 wing, immediately fled. The Colonel, 
 at the beginning of the onset, which 
 in the whole lasted but a few minutes, 
 received a wound by a bullet in his 
 left breast, which made him give a 
 sudden spring in his saddle ; upon 
 which his servant, who led the horse, 
 would have persuaded him to retreat, 
 but he said it was only a wound in 
 the flesh, and fought on, though he 
 presently after received a shot in his 
 right thigh. In the meantime, it was 
 discerned that some of the enemy fell 
 by him, and particularly one man, 
 who had made him a treacherous visit 
 but a few days before, with great pro- 
 fession of zeal for the present estab- 
 lishment. 
 
 ' ' Events of this kind pass in less 
 time than the description of them can 
 be written, or than it can be read. 
 The Colonel was for a few moments 
 supported by his men, and particu- 
 larly by that worthy person Lieu- 
 tenant-Colonel Whitney, who was 
 shot through the arm here, and a few 
 months after fell nobly at the battle of 
 FSJldrk, and by Lieutenant West, a 
 man of distinguished bravery, as also 
 by about fifteen dragoons, who stood 
 by him to the last. But after a faint 
 fire, the regiment in general was 
 seized with a panic ; and though their 
 Colonel and some other gallant 
 officers did what they could to rally 
 them once or twice, they at last took 
 
 a precipitate flight. And just in the 
 moment when Colonel Gardiner 
 seemed to be maldng a pause to 
 deliberate what duty required him to 
 do in such circumstances, an accident 
 happened, which must, I think, in the 
 judgment of every worthy and gene- 
 rous man, be allowed a sufiicient 
 apology for exposing his life to so 
 great hazard, when his regiment had 
 left him. He saw a party of the foot, 
 who were then bravely fighting near 
 him, and whom he was ordered to • 
 support, had no officer to head them ; 
 upon which he said eagerly, in the 
 hearing of the person from whom I 
 had this account, ' These brave fellows 
 will be cut to pieces for want of a com- 
 mander, ' or words to that effect, which 
 while he was speaking, he rode up to 
 them, and cried out, ' Fire on, my lads, 
 and fear nothing.' But just as the 
 words were out of his mouth, a 
 Highlander advanced towards him 
 with a scythe fastened to a long pole, 
 with which he gave him so dreadful a 
 wound on his right arm, that his 
 sword dropped out of his hand; and at 
 the same time several others coming 
 about him while he was thus dread- 
 fully entangled with that cruel weapon, 
 he was dragged off irom his horse. 
 The moment he fell, another High- 
 lander, who, if the king's evidence at 
 Carhsle may be credited (as I know 
 not why they should not, though the 
 unhappy creature died denying it), 
 was one Mac-Naught, who was exe- 
 cuted about a year after, gave him a 
 stroke either with a broadsword or a 
 Lochaber-axe (for my informant could 
 not exactly distinguish) on the hinder 
 part of his head, which was the 
 mortal blow. All that his faithful 
 attendant saw farther at this time 
 was, that as his hat was falling off, he 
 took it in his left hand, and waved it 
 as a signal "to him to retreat, and 
 added what were the last words he 
 ever heard him speak, ' Take care of 
 yourself ; ' upon which the servant 
 retired." — Some remarkable Passages 
 in the Life of Colonel James Gardi- 
 ner, by P. Doddridge, D.D. London, 
 1747, p. 187. 
 
 I may remark on this extract, that 
 it confirms the account given in the 
 text of the resistance offered by some 
 of the English infantiy. Surprised 
 by a force of a peculiar and imusual 
 
412 
 
 NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 description, their opposition ^ould 
 not be long or formidable, especially 
 as they were deserted by the cavalry, 
 and those who undertook to manage 
 the artillery. But although the aifair 
 was soon decided, I have always 
 understood that many of the infantry 
 showed an inclination to do their duty, 
 
 * P. 275. — It is scarcely necessary to 
 say that the character of this brutal 
 young Laird is entirely imaginary. A 
 gentleman, however, who resembled 
 Balmawhapple in the article of 
 courage only, fell at Preston in the 
 manner described. A Perthshire gen- 
 tleman of high honour and respect- 
 ability, one of the handful of cavalry 
 who followed the fortunes of Charles 
 Edward, pursued the fugitive dra- 
 goons almost alone till near Saint 
 Clement's Wells, where the efforts of 
 some of the officers had prevailed on 
 a few of them to make a momentary 
 stand. Perceiving at this moment 
 that they were pursued by only one 
 man and a couple of servants, they 
 tturned upon him and cut him down 
 with their swords. I remember, when 
 a child, sitting on his grave, where 
 the grass long grew rank and green, 
 distinguishing it from the rest of the 
 field. A female of the family then 
 residing at Saint Clement's Wells 
 used to tell me the tragedy of which 
 she had been an eye-witness, and 
 showed me in evidence one of the 
 silver clasps of the unfortunate gen- 
 tleman's waistcoat. 
 
 P. 284. — Charles Edward took up 
 his quarters after the battle at Pinkie- 
 house, adjoining to Musselburgh. 
 
 * P. 285. — The name of Andrea de 
 Ferrara is inscribed on aJl the Scottish 
 broadswords which are accounted of 
 peculiar excellence. Who this artist 
 was, what were his fortunes, and when 
 he flourished, have hitherto defied the 
 research of antiquaries ; only it is in 
 general believed that Andrea de Fer- 
 rara was a Spanish or Italian artificer, 
 brought over by James the IV. or V. 
 to instruct the Scots in the manufac- 
 ture of sword blades. Most b'ar- 
 
 * barous nations excel in the fabrication 
 of arms ; and the Scots had attained 
 great proficiency in forging swords, so 
 early as the field of Pinkie ; at which 
 period the historian Patten describes 
 them as "all notably broad and thin, 
 universally made to slice, and of such 
 
 exceeding good temper, that as I 
 never saw any so good, so I think it 
 hard to devise better." — Account of 
 Somerset's Expedition. 
 
 It may be observed, that the best 
 and most genuine Andrea Ferraras 
 have a crovm marked on the blades. 
 
 * P. 288. — The clergyman's name was 
 Mac-Vicar. Protected by the cannon 
 of the Castle, he preached every Sun- 
 day in the West Kirk, while the High- 
 landers were in possession of Edin- 
 burgh : and it was in presence of some 
 of the Jacobites that he prayed for 
 Prince Charles Edward in the terms 
 quoted in the text. 
 
 * P. 288. — The incident here said to 
 have happened to Flora Mac-Ivor, 
 actually befell Miss Naime, a lady 
 with whom the author had the plea- 
 sure of being acquainted. As the 
 Highland army rushed into Edin- 
 burgh, Miss Naime, like other ladies 
 who approved of their cause, stood 
 waving her handkerchief from a bal- 
 cony, when a ball from a Highlander's 
 musket, which was discharged by acci- 
 dent, grazed her forehead. "Thank 
 God, " said she, the instant she reco- 
 vered, "that the accident happened 
 to me, whose principles are known. 
 Had it befallen a Whig, they would 
 have said it was done on purpose." 
 
 * P. 325. — The Author of Waverley 
 has been charged with painting the 
 young Adventurer in coloiu:s more 
 amiable than his character deserved. 
 But having known many individuals 
 who were near his person, he has 
 been described according to the hght 
 in which those eye-witnesses saw his 
 temper and qualifications. Some- 
 thing must be allowed, no doubt, to 
 the natural exaggerations of those 
 who remembered him as the bold and 
 adventurous Prince, in whose cause 
 they had braved death and ruin ; but 
 is their evidence to give place entirely 
 to that of a single malcontent ? 
 
 I have already noticed the imputa- 
 tions thrown by the Chevalier John- 
 stone on the Prince's courage. But 
 some part at least of that gentleman's 
 tale is purely romantic. It would not, 
 for instance, be supposed, that at the 
 time he was favouring us vrith the 
 highly wrought accoimt of his amour 
 with the adorable Peggie, the Cheva- 
 lier Johnstone was a married man, 
 whose grandchild is now alive, orthaf*. 
 
NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 413 
 
 the whole circumstantial story con- 
 cerning the outrageous vengeance 
 taken by Gordon of Abbachie on a 
 Presbyterian clergyman, is entirely 
 apocryphal. At the same time it may 
 be admitted, that the Prince, like 
 others of his family, did not esteem 
 the services done him by his adherents 
 so highly as he ought. Educated in 
 high ideas of his hereditary right, he 
 has been supposed to have held 
 every exertion and sacrifice made in 
 his cause as too much the duty of the 
 person making it, to merit extrava- 
 gant gratitude on his part. Dr. King's 
 evidence (which his leaving the Jaco- 
 bite interest renders somewhat doubt- 
 ful) goes to strengthen this opinion. 
 
 The ingenious editor of Johnstone's 
 iVIemoirs has quoted a story said to 
 be told by Helvetius, stating that 
 Prince Charles Edward, far from 
 voluntarily embarking on his daring 
 expedition, was literally bound hand 
 and foot, and to which he seems dis- 
 posed to yield credit. Now, it being 
 a fact as well Imown as any in his 
 history, and, so far as 1 know, en- 
 tirely undisputed, that the Prince's 
 personal entreaties and urgency posi- 
 tively forced Boisdale and Lochiel 
 into insurrection, when they were 
 earnestly desirous that he would put 
 off his attempt until he could obtain 
 a sufficient force from France, it will 
 be very difficult to reconcile his 
 alleged reluctance to undertalce the 
 expedition, with his desperately in- 
 sisting on carrying the rising into 
 effect against the advice and entreaty 
 of his most powerfxil and most sage 
 partisans. Surely a man who had 
 been carried botmd on board the 
 vessel which brought him to so despe- 
 rate an enterprise, would have taken 
 the opportunity afforded by the reluct- 
 ance of his partisans, to return to 
 France in safety. 
 
 It is averred in Johnstone's Me- 
 moirs, that Charles Edward left the 
 field of Culloden vrithout doing the 
 utmost to dispute the victory ; and, 
 to give the evidence on both sides, 
 there is in existence the more trust- 
 worthy testimony of Lord Elcho, who 
 states, that he himself earnestly ex- 
 horted the Prince to charge at the 
 head of the left wing, which was 
 entire, and retrieve the day or die 
 with honour. And on his counsel 
 
 being dechned. Lord Elcho took 
 leave of him with a bitter execration, 
 swearing he would never look on his 
 face again, and kept his word. 
 
 On the other hand, it seems to have 
 been the opinion of almost all the 
 other officers, that the day was iiTe- 
 trievably lost, one wing of the High- 
 landers being entirely routed, the rest 
 of the army out-numbered, out- 
 flanked, and in a condition totally 
 hopeless. In this situation of things, 
 the Irish officers who surrounded 
 Charles's person interfered to force 
 him off the field. A comet who was 
 close to the Prince, left a strong 
 attestation that he had seen Sir 
 Thomas Sheridan seize the bridle of 
 his horse, and turn him round. There 
 is some discrepancy of evidence ; but 
 the opinion of Lord Elcho, a man of 
 fiery temper, and desperate at the 
 ruin which he beheld impending, 
 cannot fairly be taken, in prejudice of 
 a character for courage which is inti- 
 mated by the nature of the enterprise 
 itself, by the Prince's eagerness to 
 fight on all occasions, by his deter- 
 mination to advance from Derby to 
 London, and by the presence of mind 
 which he manifested during the ro- 
 mantic perils of his escape. The 
 author is far from claiming for this 
 unfortunate person the praise due to 
 splendid talents ; but he continues to 
 be of opinion, that at the period of 
 his enterprise, he had a mind capable 
 of facing danger and aspiring to fame. 
 
 That Charles Edward had the ad- 
 vantages of a graceful presence, 
 courtesy, and an address and manner 
 becoming his station, the author never 
 heard disputed by any who approached 
 his person, nor does he conceive that 
 these qualities are overcharged in the 
 present attempt to sketch his por- 
 trait. The foUowing extracts, corro- 
 borative of the general opinion re- 
 specting the Prince's amiable disposi- 
 tion, are taken from a manuscript 
 account of his romantic expedition, 
 by James Maxwell of Kirkconnell, of 
 which I possess a copy, by the friend- 
 ship of J. Menzies, Esq. of Pitfoddells. 
 The author, though partial to the 
 Prince whom he faithfully followed, 
 seems to have been a fair and candid 
 man, and well acquainted Avith the 
 intrigues among the Adventurer's 
 council : — 
 
414 
 
 NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 "Everybody was mightily taken 
 with the Prince's figure and personal 
 behaviour. There was but one voice 
 about them. Those whom interest 
 or prejudice made a runaway to his 
 cause, could not help acknowledging 
 that they wished him well in all other 
 respects, and could hardly blame him 
 for his present undertaking. Sundry 
 things had concurred to raise his 
 character to the highest pitch, besides 
 the greatness of the enterprise, and 
 the conduct that had hitherto ap- 
 peared in the execution of it. There 
 were several instances of good-nature 
 and humanity that had made a great 
 impression on people's minds. I shall 
 confine myself to two or three. Im- 
 mediately after the battle, as the 
 Prince was riding along tjie ground 
 that Cope's army had occupied a fpw 
 minutes before, one of the officers 
 came up to congratulate him, and said, 
 pointing to the killed, * Sir, there are 
 your enemies at your feet.' The 
 Prince, far from existing, expressed a 
 great deal of compassion for his 
 father's deluded subjects, whom he 
 declared he was heartily sorry to see 
 in that posture. Next day, while the 
 Prince was at Pinkie-house, a citizen 
 of Ediriburgh came to make some 
 representation to Secretary Murray 
 about the tents that city was ordered 
 to furnish against a certain day. 
 Murray happened to be out of the 
 way, which the Prince hearing of, 
 called to iiave the gentleman brought 
 to him, saying, he would rather 
 dispatch the business, whatever it was, 
 himself, than have the gentleman wait, 
 which he did, by granting everything 
 that was asked. So much affability 
 in a young prince, flushed with victory, 
 drew encomiums even from his ene- 
 mies. But what gave the people the 
 highest idea of him, was the negative 
 he gave to a thing that very nearly 
 concerned his interest, and upon which 
 the success of his enterprise perhaps 
 depended. It was proposed to send 
 one of the prisoners to London, to 
 demand of that court' a cartel for the 
 exchange of prisoners taken, and to 
 be taken, during the war, and to inti- 
 mate that a refusal would be looked 
 upon as a resolution on their part to 
 ■give no quarter. It was visible a 
 cartel would be of great advantage to 
 the Prince's affairs ; his friends would 
 
 be more ready to declare for him if 
 they had nothing to fear but the 
 chance of war in the field ; and if the 
 court of London refused to settle a 
 cartel, the Prince was authorised to 
 treat his prisoners in the same manner 
 the Elector of Hanover was deter- 
 mine^ to treat such of the Prince's 
 friends as might fall into his hands : 
 it was urged that a few examples 
 would compel the court of London to 
 comply. It was to be presumed that 
 the officers of the English army would 
 malce a point of it. They had never 
 engaged in the service, but upon such 
 terms as are in use among all civilized 
 nations, and it could be no stain upon 
 their honour to lay down their com- 
 missions if these terms were not ob- 
 served, and that owing to the ob- 
 stinacy of their own Prince. Though 
 this scheme wa,s plausible, and repre- 
 sented as very important, the Prince 
 could never be brought into it : it was 
 below him, he said, to make empty 
 threats, and he would never put such 
 as those into execution ; he would 
 never in cold blood take away lives 
 which he had saved in heat of action 
 at the peril of his own. These were 
 not the only proofs of good nature 
 the Prince gave about this time. 
 Every day produced something new 
 of this kind. These things softened 
 the rigour of a military government, 
 which was only imputed to the neces- 
 sity of his affairs, and which he en- 
 deavoured to malce as gentle and 
 easy as possible." 
 
 On the whole, if Prince Charles had 
 concluded his life soon after his mira- 
 culous escape, his character in history 
 must have stood very high. As it 
 was, his station is amongst those, a 
 certain brilliant portion of whose life 
 forms a remarkable contrast to all 
 which precedes, and all which fol- 
 lows it. 
 
 * P. 331. — ^The following account of 
 the skirmish at Clifton is- extracted 
 from the manuscript Memoirs of Evan 
 Macpherson of Cluny, Chief of the 
 dan Macpherson, who had the merit 
 of supporting the principal brunt of 
 that spirited affair. 
 
 " In the Prince's return from Derby 
 back towards Scotland, my Lord 
 Greorge Murray, Lieutenant-General, 
 cheerfully charg'd himself with the 
 command of the real: ; a post, which. 
 
NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 415 
 
 aJtho' honourable, was attended with 
 .great danger, many difficulties, and 
 no small fatigue ; for the Prince being 
 apprehensive that his retreat to Scot- 
 land might be cut off by Marischall 
 Wade, who lay to the northward of 
 him with an armie much supperior to 
 w-hat H. R. H. had, while the Duke 
 of Cumberland with his whole cavalrie 
 followed hard in the rear, was obhged 
 to hasten his marches. It was not, 
 therefore, possible for the artilirie to 
 march so fast as the Prince's armie, 
 in the depth of winter, extremely bad 
 weather, and the worst roads in Eng- 
 land ; so Lord George Murray was 
 obliged often to continue his marches 
 long after it was dark almost every 
 night, while at the same time he had 
 frequent allarms and disturbances 
 from the Duke of Cumberland's ad- 
 vanc'd parties. Towards the evening 
 ■of the twentie-eight December 1745, 
 the Prince entered the town of Pen- 
 rith, in the Province of Comberland. 
 But as Lord George Murray could 
 not bring up the artilirie so fast as he 
 would have wish'd, he was obliged to 
 pass the night six miles short of that 
 Town, together with the regiment of 
 MacDonel of Glcngarrie, which that 
 day happened to have the arrear 
 guard. The Prince, in order to re- 
 fresh his armie, and to give my Lord 
 -George and the artilirie time to come 
 up, resolved to sejour the 29th at 
 Penrith ; so ordered his little armie 
 to appear in the morning imder arms, 
 in order to be reviewed, and to know 
 in what manner the numbers stood 
 from his haveing entered England. 
 It did not at that time amount to 
 5000 foot in all, with about 400 caval- 
 rie, composed of the noblesse who 
 serv'd as volunteers, part of whom 
 form'd a first troop of guards for the 
 Prince, under the command of My 
 Lord Elchoe, now Comte de 'Weems, 
 who, being proscribed, is presently in 
 France. Another part formed a second 
 troup of .guards under the command 
 of My Lord Balmirino, who was be- 
 headed at the tower of London. A 
 third part serv'd under My Lord le 
 Comte de Kilmarnock, who was like- 
 wise beheaded at the Tower. A fourth 
 part serv'd under My Lord PitsUgow, 
 who is also proscribed ; which caval- 
 rie, tho' very few in numbers, being 
 . all Noblesse, were very brave, and of 
 
 infinite advantage to the foot, not 
 only in the day of battle, but in 
 serving as advanced guards on the 
 several marches, and in patrohng 
 dureing the night on the different 
 roads which led towards the towns 
 where the army happened to quarter. 
 " While this small army was out in 
 a body on the 29th December, upon 
 a rising ground to the northward of 
 Penrith, passing review, Mons. de 
 Cluny, vrith his tribe, was ordered to 
 the Bridge of Clifton, about a mile to 
 southward of Penrith, after having 
 pass'd in review before Mons. Patullo, 
 who was charged with the inspection 
 of the troops, and was likewise Quar- 
 ter Master General of the army, and 
 is now in France. They remained 
 under arms at the Bridge, waiting the 
 arrival of My Lord George Murray 
 with the artilirie, whom Mons. de 
 Cluny had orders to cover in passing 
 the bridge. They arrived about sun- 
 sett closely pursued by the Duke of 
 Comberland with the whole body of 
 his cavalrie, reclconed upwards of 
 3000 strong, about a thousand of 
 whom, as near as might be computed, 
 dismounted, in order to cut off the 
 passage of the artilirie towards the 
 bridge, while the Duke and the others 
 remained on horseback in order to 
 attack the rear. My Lord George 
 Murray advanced, and although he 
 found Mons. de Cluny and his tribe 
 in good spirits under arms, yet the 
 circumstance appear 'd extremely deh- 
 cate. The numbers were vastly un- 
 equal], and the attack seem'd very 
 dangerous ; so my Lord George de- 
 clin'd giving orders to such time as 
 he ask'd Mons. de Cluny's op- 
 pinion. ' I will attack them with all 
 my heart,' says Mons. de Cluny, 'if 
 you order me. ' ' I do order it then, ' 
 answered my Lord George, and im- 
 mediately went on himself along with 
 Mons. de Cluny and fought sword in 
 hand on foot, at the head of the single 
 tribe of Macpliersons, They in a 
 moment made their way through a 
 strong hedge of thorns, under the 
 cover whereof the cavalrie had taken 
 their station, in the struggle of passing 
 which hedge My Lord George Mur- 
 ray, being dressed en montagnard, as 
 all the armifc were, lost his bonet and 
 vrig ; so continued to fight bareheaded 
 during the action. They at first made 
 
ifi6 
 
 NOTES TO WAVERLEY. 
 
 a brisk discharge of their fire arms on 
 the enemy, then attacked them with 
 their sabres, and made a great slaugh- 
 ter a considerable tirne, which obliged 
 Comberland and his cavalrie to fly 
 with precipitation and in great con- 
 fusion ; in so much, that if the Prince 
 had been provided in a sufficient 
 nimiber of cavalrie to have taken ad- 
 vantage of the disorder, it is beyond 
 question that the Duke of Comberland 
 and the bulk of his cavalrie had been 
 taken prisoners. By this time it was so 
 dark that it was not possible to view 
 the number of slain, who filled all the 
 ditches which happened to be on the 
 ground where they stood. But it was 
 computed that, besides those who 
 went off wounded, upwards of a hun- 
 dred at least were left on the spot, 
 among whom was Colonel Honey- 
 wood, who commanded the dis- 
 mounted cavalrie, whose sabre of con- 
 siderable value Mons. de Cluny 
 brought off, and still preserves ; and 
 his tribe lykeways brought off many 
 arms ; — the Colonel was afterwards 
 taken up, and, his wounds being 
 dress'd, with great difficultie re- 
 covered. Mons. de Cluny lost only 
 in the action twelve men, of whom 
 some haveing been only wounded, fell 
 afterwards into the hands of the 
 enemy, and were sent as slaves to 
 America, whence several of them re- 
 turned, and one of them is now in 
 France, a sergeant in the Regiment of 
 Royal Scots. How soon the accounts 
 of the enemie's approach had reached 
 the Prince, H. R. H. had immediately 
 ordered Mi-L,ord le Comte de Naime, 
 Brigadier, who, being proscribed, is 
 now in France, with the three bata- 
 hons of the Duke of Athol, the bata- 
 lion of the Diilce of Perth; and some 
 other troups under his command, in 
 order to support Cluny, and to bring 
 off the artilirie. But the action was 
 intirely over before Naime cou'd 
 reach the place. They therefore 
 retum'd all to Penrith, and the ar- 
 tilirie marched up in good order. Nor 
 did the Duke of Comberland ever 
 afterwards dare to come within a 
 day's march of the Prince and his 
 army dureing the course of all that 
 retreat which was conducted with 
 great prudence and safety, when in 
 
 some manner surrounded by ene- 
 mies. " 
 * P. 342. — ^As the heathen deities con- 
 tracted an indehble obligation if they 
 swore by Styx, the Scottish High- 
 landers had usually some peculiar 
 solemnity attached to an oath, which 
 they intended should be binding on 
 them. Very frequently it consisted in 
 laying their hand, as they swore, on 
 their own drawn dirk ; which dagger, 
 becoming a party to the transaction, 
 was invoked to punish any breach of 
 faith. But by whatever ritual the 
 oath was sanctioned, the party was 
 extremely desirous to keep secret 
 what the especial oath was, 'which he 
 considered as irrevocable. This was 
 a matter of great convenience, as he 
 felt no scruple in breaking his asseve- 
 ration, when made in any other form 
 than that which he accotmted as pecu- 
 , harly solemn ; and therefore readily 
 ' granted any engagement which bound 
 him no longer than he incUned. 
 Whereas, if the oath which he ac- 
 counted inviolable was once publicly 
 known, no party vrith whom he might 
 have occasion to contract, would have 
 rested satisfied \7ith any other. Louis 
 XI. of France practised the same 
 sophistry, for he also had a peculiar 
 species of oath, the only one which he 
 was ever loiown to respect, and which, 
 therefore, he was very unwilling to 
 pledge. The only engagement which 
 that vrily tyrant accotmted binding 
 upon him, was an] oath by the Holy 
 Cross of Saint Lo d'Angers, which, 
 contained a portion of the True- 
 Cross. If he prevaricated after taking - 
 this oath, Louis believed he should 
 die wdthin the year. The Constable- 
 Saint Paul, being invited to a personal 
 conference-with Louis, refused to meet 
 the king unless he would agree to en- 
 smre him safe conduct imder sanction 
 of this oath. But, says Comines, the- 
 king replied, he would never again, 
 pledge that engagement to mortal man, 
 though he was willing to take any- 
 other oath which could be devised. 
 The treaty broke off, therefore, after 
 much chaffering concerning the nature 
 of the vow which Louis was to take. 
 Such is the difference between the 
 dictates of superstition and those of 
 conscience. 
 
 BHADBDRT, AGNEW, & CO., PEIKTERS, -WHITEFEIARS.