\6lt) 
 SC08WI 
 |l828 
 IV. 1

 
 WAVERLEY; ^-^^ , 
 
 ^ r- 
 
 'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE. 
 
 COMPLETE IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 Under which King, Bezonian ? speak, or die ! 
 Henry lY. Part 11. 
 
 ToL I. 
 
 WAFERLET NOVELS. 1. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 SAMUEL H PARKER, NO. 164 WASHINGTON-STPJEliT. 
 
 1828.
 
 Waverley Press— Boston.
 
 PZ3> 
 l?29 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 To this slight attempt at a sketch of ancient Scottish 
 manners, the public have been more attentive 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. Con- 
 siderations, which seem weighty in his particular situ- 
 ation, prevent his releasing these gentlemen from sus- 
 picion, by placing his owti 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 " hke Cerberus — three 
 gentlemen at once." The Author, as he is uncon- 
 scious of any thing in the w^ork itself (except perhaps 
 its frivolity) which prevents its finding an acknowledg- 
 ed father, leaves it to the candour of the public to 
 choose among the many circumstances peculiar to 
 different situations in Kfe, such as may induce him to 
 suppress his name on the present occasion. He mav 
 be a writer new to publication, and unwilling to avow 
 a character to which he is unaccustomed ; or he may 
 be a hackneyed author, who is ashamed of too fre- 
 quent appearance, and employs this mystery, as the 
 heroine of 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-uTiter may 
 be prejudicial ; or he may be a man of fashion, to 
 whom writing of any kind might appear pedantic. He
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 may be too young to assume the character of an au- 
 thor, 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 Highlanders against trifling 
 articles of property, he has borne hard, and unjustly 
 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 dar- 
 mg evil, and determined, by the circumstances of his 
 situation, to a particular species of mischief. Those 
 who have perused the curious Letters from the High- 
 lands, pubhshed 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 representatives of the High- 
 landers of that period, any more than the murderers 
 of Marr and Williamson can be supposed to represent 
 the Enghsh of the present day. As for the plunder 
 supposed to have been picked up by some of the in- 
 surgents in 1745, it must be remembered, that al- 
 though the way of that unfortunate little army was 
 neither marked by devastation nor bloodshed, but, on 
 the contrary, was orderly and quiet in a most wonder- 
 ful degree, yet no army marches through a country in 
 a hostile manner without some trespasses ; and seve- 
 ral, 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 traditions, 
 and particularly one respecting the Knight of the 
 Mirror, may be quoted as good evidence.
 
 WAVERLEY; 
 
 'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINGE, 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 Introductory. 
 
 The title of this work has not been chosen wither 
 the grave and sohd dehberation which matters of impor 
 tance demand from the prudent. Even its first, or ger 
 eral denomination, was the result of no common research 
 or selection, although, according to the example of m\ 
 predecessors, I had only to seize upon the most sound- 
 ing and euphonic surname that English history or topog- 
 raphy affords, and elect it at once as the title of my worl: , 
 and the name of my hero. But, alas ! what could ni) 
 readers have expected from the chivalrous epithets o 
 Howard, Mordaunt, Mortimer, or Stanley, or from th- 
 softer and more sentimental sounds of Belmour, Belviile. 
 Belfield and Belgrave. but pages of inanity, similar h 
 those which have been so christened for half a century 
 past : I must modestly admit I arn too diffident of r-:-; 
 own merit to place it in unnecessary opposition to pre - 
 conceived associations : I have therefore;, like a maidb 
 
 1" voLri.
 
 " WAVERI^Ey. 
 
 knight with his white shield, assumed for my hero, Wa- 
 VERLEY, an uncontaminated name, bearing with its sound 
 little of good or evil, excepting what the reader shall be 
 hereafter pleased to affix to it. But my second or sup- 
 plemental title was a matter of much more difficult elec- 
 tion, since that, short as it is, may he 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, " Wa- 
 verley, a Tale of other Days," must not every novel- 
 reader ha\'e- anticipated a castle scarce less than that of 
 Udolpho, of which the eastern wing had long been unin- 
 habited, 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 pre- 
 cincts ? Would not the owl have shrieked and the crick- 
 et cried in my very title-page f and could it have been 
 possible for me, with a moderate attention to deco- 
 rum, 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 fille-de- 
 chamber, when rehearsing the stories of blood and hor- 
 ror which she had heard in the servants' hall ? Again, 
 had my title borne, " Waverley, a Romance from the 
 German," what head so obtuse as not to imagine forth a 
 profligate abbot, an oppressive duke, a secret and mys- 
 terious association of Rosicrusians and illuminati, with 
 ail their properties of black cowls, caverns, daggers, 
 electrical machines, trap-doors, and dark lanterns t' Or 
 if I had rather chosen to call my work a " Sentimental 
 Tale," would it not have been a sufficient presage of a 
 heroine w-ith a profusion of auburn hair, and a harp, the 
 soft solace of her solitary hours, which she fortmiateiy 
 finds always the means of transporting from castle to 
 cottage, although she herself be sometimes obliged to 
 jump out of a two-pa ir-of-stairs window, and is more 
 than once bewildered on her journey, alone and on foot, 
 
 ^x.^
 
 WAVERLEY. 7 
 
 without any guide but a blowsy 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 pri- 
 vate scandal thinly veiled, and if lusciously painted so 
 much the better ; a heroine from Grosvenor Square, and 
 a hero from the Barouche Club, 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 f I could proceed in proving the 
 importance of a title-page, and displaying at the same 
 time my own intimate knowledge of the particular ingre- 
 dients necessary to the composition of romances and 
 novels of various descriptions. But it is enough, and I 
 scorn to tyrannize longer over the impatience of my 
 reader, who 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 
 this present 1st November, 1805, I would have my rea- 
 ders 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 v/ill 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 route. 
 From this my choice of an eera the understanding critic 
 may farther presage, that the object of my tale is more 
 a description of men than manners. A tale of manners, 
 to be interesting, must either refer to antiquity so great 
 as to have become venerable, or it must bear a vivid 
 reflection of those scenes which are passing daily belbre 
 our eyes, and are interesting from their novelty. Thus 
 the coat-of-mail of our ancestors, and the tripple-furred 
 pelisse of our modern beaux, may, though for very dif-
 
 8 WAVERLEY. 
 
 ferent reasons, be equally fit for the array of a fictitious 
 character ; but who, meaning the costume of his hero 
 to be impressive, 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 hall, which, 
 with its darkened and tinted windows, its elevated and 
 gloomy roof, and massive oaken table garnished with 
 boar's head and rosemary, pheasants and peacocks, cranes 
 and cygnets, has an excellent effect in fictitious descrip- 
 tion. Much may also be gained by a lively display of a 
 modern fete, 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 for- 
 mality 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 resolv- 
 ed 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 hav^e alike agitated the hu- 
 man heart, whether it throbbed under the steel corslet 
 of the fifteenth century, the brocaded coat of the eigh- 
 teenth, 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 casts a necessary 
 colouring ; but the bearings, to use the language of her- 
 aldry, remain the same, though the tincture may be not 
 only different, but opposed in strong contradistinction. 
 The wrath of our ancestors, for example, was coloured 
 gules ; it brake forth in acts of open and sanguinary 
 ^^iolence against the objects of its fury : our mahgnant 
 (< alings, which must seek gratification through more in- 
 direct channels, and undermine the obstacles which rhey 
 cannot openly bear down, may be rather said to be tine-
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 tured 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 pubhc. Some favourable opportunities 
 of contrast have been afibrded me, by the state of society 
 in the northern part of the island at the period of my 
 history, and may serve at once to vary and to illustrate 
 the moral lessons which I w^ould 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 11. 
 
 Waverley-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 w^as 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 youn- 
 ger brother, Richard Wav^erley, the father of our hero. 
 Sir Everard had inherited from his sires the whole train 
 of tory or high-church predilections and prejudices.
 
 10 WAVERIEY. 
 
 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 Wim- 
 ble. He saw early, that to succeed in the race of life, 
 it was necessary he should carry as little weight as pos- 
 sible. 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 argu- 
 ment, 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 
 remove hereditary prejudice, could Richard have antici- 
 pated that Sir Everard, taking to heart an early disap- 
 pointment, would have remained a bachelor at seventy- 
 two. The prospect of succession, however remote, might 
 in that case, hav^e led him to endure dragging through 
 the greater part of his life as " Master Richard at the 
 Hall, the baronet's brother," in hopes that ere its con- 
 clusion he should be distinguished as Sir Richard Waver- 
 ley of Waverley-Honour, successor to a princely estate, 
 .andto extended political connections as head of the coun- 
 try interest. 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 repod; which regularly amused 
 the neighbourhood once a year. His brother therefore 
 saw no 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
 
 WAVERLEY. 1 1 
 
 hereditary faith of Sir Everard in high-church and the 
 house of Stuart. He therefore read his recantation at 
 the beginning of his career, and entered hfe as an avow- 
 ed whig, and friend of the Hanover succession. 
 
 The Ministry of the period were prudently anxious 
 to diminish the phalanx of opposition. The tory nobil- 
 ity, depending for their reflected lustre upon the sun- 
 shine of a court, had for some time been gradually 
 reconciling themselves to the new 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 these steady and inflexible op- 
 ponents was considered as a means of bringing over 
 more converts, and therefore Richard Waverley met 
 with a share of ministerial favour more than proportion- 
 ed to his talents or his political importance. It was, 
 however, discovered that he had respectable parts for 
 pubhc 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 minis- 
 terial borough of Barterfaith ; next, that Richard Waver- 
 ley Esquire, had taken a distinguished part in the 
 debate upon the Excise Bill in the support of govern- 
 ment, 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 presaged the two last even while he 
 announced the first, yet they came upon Sir Everard 
 gradually, and drop by drop, as it were, distilled
 
 ] 2 WAVERLET. 
 
 through the cool and procrastinating alembic of Dyer*3 
 Weekly Letter. For it may be observed in passing, 
 that, instead of those mail-coaches, by means of 
 which every mechanic at his six-penny club may 
 nightly learn from twenty contradictory channels the 
 yesterday's news of the capital, a weekly post brought, 
 in those days, to Waverley-Honour, a Weekly Intelli- 
 gencer, which, after it had gratified Sir Everard's curi- 
 osity, his sisters, and that of his aged butler, was regu- 
 larly transferred from the hall to the rectory, from the 
 rectory to Squire Stubb's 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 horny hands it was generally worn to 
 pieces in about a month after its arrival. 
 
 The slow succession of intelligence was of some ad- 
 vantage 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 the new 
 commissioner would have had litde reason to pique him- 
 self on the success of his politics. The baronet, al- 
 though 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, (or 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 mar- 
 riage of the proprietor might have been fatal to a collat- 
 eral heir. These various ideas floated through the 
 brain of Sir Everard, without, however, producing any 
 determinate conclusion. 
 
 He examined the tree of bis genealogy, which, em- 
 blazoned with many an emblematic mark of honour and 
 heroic achievement, hung upon the well-varnished wain- 
 scot of his hall. The nearest descendants of Sir Hilde- 
 brand Waverley, failing those of his eldest son Wilfred,
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 13 
 
 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 Waver- 
 leys of Highley Park, com. Hants ; with whom the main 
 branch, or rather stock, of the house had renounced all 
 connection since the great law-suit in 1670. This 
 scion had committed a further offence against the head 
 and source of their gentility, by the intermarriage of 
 their representative whh Judith, heiress of Ohver Brad- 
 shawe, of His^hley Park, whose arms, the same with 
 those of Bradshawe the regicide, 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 Chppurse, for 
 whom his groom was despatched express, arrived but an 
 hour earlier, he might have had the benefit of drawing 
 a new settlement of the lordship and manor of Waver- 
 ley-Honour, with all its dependencies. But an hour of 
 cool reflection is a great matter, when employed in 
 weighing the comparative evils of two measures, to 
 neither of which we are internally partial. Law-yer Clip- 
 purse found his patron involved in deep study, which 
 he was too respectful to disturb, otherwise than by pro- 
 ducina; his paper and leathern ink-case, as prepared to 
 minute his honour's commands. Even this slight ma- 
 noeuvre was embarrassing to Sir Everard, who felt it as 
 a reproach to his indecision. He looked at the attor- 
 ney with some desire to issue his fiat, when the sun, 
 emerging from behind a cloud, poured at once its cheq- 
 uered 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 was said to have borne in the field of Hast- 
 ings ; three ermines passant, argent, in a field azure, 
 with its appropriate motto, sans tache, " May our name 
 rather perish," thought Sir Everard, " than that ancient 
 
 2 VOL. I.
 
 :.4 
 
 AVAVERXEY. 
 
 and loyal symbol should be blended with the dishonour- 
 ed insignia of a traitorous round-head !" 
 
 All this was the efiect 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, whh directions to hold himself in readi- 
 ness on the first summons. 
 
 The apparition of I^awyer Clippurse at the Hall oc- 
 casioned much speculation in that portion of the world 
 to which Waverley-Honour formed the centre : But the 
 more judicious politicians of this microcosm augured 
 yet worse consequences to Richard Waverley 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 duration to a noble peer on the confines of 
 the shire, of untainted descent, steady tory principles, 
 and the happy father of six unmarried 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 uniortunately de- 
 termined him in favour of Lady Emily, the youngest, 
 who received his attentions with an embarrassment which 
 showed at once that she durst not dechne them, and 
 that they afforded her any thing but pleasure. Sir Ev- 
 erard could not but perceive something uncommon in 
 the restrained emotions which she testified at the ad- 
 vances he hazarded ; but assured by the prudent coun- 
 tess that they were the natural effects of a retired edu- 
 cation, the sacrifice might have been completed, as 
 doubtless has happened in many similar instances, had 
 it not been for the courage of an elder sister, who re- 
 vealed to the wealthy suitor that Lady Emily's affections 
 were fixed upon a young soldier of fortune, a near re- 
 lation of her own. Sir Everard manifested great emo- 
 tion «on receiving this intelligence, which was confirmed 
 to him, in a private interview, by the young lady herself, 
 although under the most dreadful apprehensions of her 
 father's indignation. Honour and generosity were here-
 
 WAVE RLE Y 
 
 15 
 
 ditary 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 Bandeville Castle, the ad- 
 dress 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 ; but the young 
 officer immediately after this transaction rose in the army 
 with a rapidity far surpassing the usual pace of unpat- 
 ronized professional merit, although, to outward appear- 
 ance, that was all he had to depend upon. 
 
 The shock which Sir Everard encountered upon this 
 occasion, although diminished by the consciousness of 
 having acted virtuously and generously, had its effect 
 upon his future life. His resolution of marriage had 
 been adopted in a fit of indignation ; the labour of court- 
 ship 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 W^averley-Honouj^ with- 
 out 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 dispo- 
 sition of his first, second, third, fourth, and fifth daugh- 
 ters. 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 fruit- 
 less exertion for the time to come. He continued to 
 live at Waverley-Honour in the style of an old Enghsh 
 gentleman, of ancient descent and opulent fortune. His 
 sister. Miss Rachael Waverley, presided at his table, 
 and they became by degrees an old bachelor anti an
 
 16 
 
 WAVERLEY, 
 
 ancient maiden hdy^ the gentlest and kindest of the vo- 
 taries of cehbacy. 
 
 The vehemence of Sir Everard's resentment against 
 his brother was but short-hved ; yet his dishke to the 
 whig and the placeman, though unable to stimulate him 
 to resume any active measures prejudicial to Richard's 
 interest, continued to maintain the coldness between, 
 them. Accident 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 become 
 possessor of a manor of some value, at the distance of a 
 few miles from V/averley-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 dis- 
 tance from the avenue of Brere-wood Lodge, his fath- 
 er's seat. Their attention was attracted by a carriage 
 drawn by six stately black long-tailed 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 Welch-woman or a Scotch-woman, or in 
 v/hat 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 vindicating his right to the splendid ve- 
 hicle on which it was displayed. The baronet arrived 
 v/hile 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 something 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 
 vindicating a hereditary title to his family, affection, and 
 patronage, by means of a tie which Sir Everard held as
 
 AVAVERLET. 
 
 17 
 
 sacred as either Garter or Blue-mantle, Providence seem- 
 ed to have granted to him the very object best calcu- 
 lated to fill up the void in his hopes and his affections. 
 The child and his attendant were sent home in the car- 
 riage to Brere-wood Lodge, with such a message as 
 opened to Richard Waverley a door of reconciliation 
 with his elder brother. The intercourse, however, con- 
 tinued to be rather formal and civil, than partaking of 
 brotherly cordiahty : 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 on which his kind and 
 gentle affections could at the same time fully 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 more intimate commerce v/ith a man of 
 Sir Everard's habits and opinions. 
 
 Thus, by a sort of tacit compromise, little Edward 
 was permitted 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 intercourse was 
 otherwise limited to formal messages and more formal 
 visits. The education of the youth was regulated alter- 
 nately by the taste and opinions of his uncle and of his 
 father. But more of this in a subsequent chapteio 
 
 2* VOL. I.
 
 18 AVAYERLEY 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Education. 
 
 The education of our hero, Edward VVaverley, was 
 of a nature somewhat desultory. In infancy his health 
 suffered, or was supposed to suffer, (which is quite the 
 same thing) by the air of London. As soon, therefore, 
 as official duties, attendance on parHament, or the pros- 
 ecution of any of his plans of interest or ambition, cal- 
 led his father to town, which was his usual residence 
 for eight months in the year, Edward was transferred to 
 A^'averley-Honour, and experienced a change of instruc- 
 ters and of lessons, as well as of residence. This 
 might have been remedied had his father placed him 
 imder the superintendence of a permanent tutor. But 
 be considered that one of his choosing would probably 
 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 political spy, in his fam- 
 ily. He therefore prevailed upon his private secretary, 
 a young man of taste and accomplishments, to bestow an 
 hour or two on Edward's education while at Brere-wood 
 Lodge, and left his uncle answerable for his improve- 
 ment in literature while an inmate at the Hall. 
 
 This was in some degree respectably provided for. 
 Sir Everard's chaplain, an Oxonian, who had lost his 
 fellowship for declining to lake 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 recurring interregnum, during which Edward was 
 entirely freed from his discipline, occasioned such a re-
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 19 
 
 laxation of authority, that the youth was permitted, in a 
 great measure, to learn as he pleased, what he pleased, 
 and when he pleased. This looseness of rule would 
 have been ruinous to a boy of slow understanding, 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, when seated in his arms and legs, 
 would have engaged in field sports, from morning till 
 night. But the character of Edward Waverley was re- 
 mote from either of these. His powers of apprehension 
 were so uncommonly quick, as almost to resemble intui- 
 tion, and the chief care of his preceptor was to prevent 
 him, as a sportsman would phrase it, from over-running 
 his game, that is, from acquiring his knowledge in a slight, 
 flimsy, and inadequate manner. And here the instructer 
 had to combat another propensity too often united with 
 "brilhancy 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 
 so soon as curiosity is gratified, the pleasure of conquer- 
 ing 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 volum.e. Bat it was in 
 vain to attempt fixing his attention on critical distinctions 
 of philology, upon the difference of idiom, the beauty 
 of fehcitous 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 own amusement, he 
 foresaw not that he was losing for ever the opportunity 
 of acquiring habits of firm and incumbent application,
 
 20 WAVERLEY. 
 
 of gaining the art of controlling, directing, and concen- 
 trating the powers of his own mind for earnest investi- 
 gation, — an art far more essential than even that learning 
 which is the primary object of study. 
 
 I am aware I may be here reminded of the necessity 
 of rendering instruction agreeable to youth, and of Tas- 
 so's infusion of honey 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 httle 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 
 arithmetic may, we are assured, be sufficiently acquired 
 by spending a few hours a-week at a new and comphcat- 
 ed 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 
 mean time be subject of serious consideration, whether 
 those who are -accustomed only to acquire instruction 
 through the medium of amusement, may 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 might not thereby be gradually induced to 
 make sport of their religion. To our young hero, wlio 
 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 in- 
 dulgence of his tutors was attended with evil consequen- 
 ces, 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 tliey rather inflamed and in-
 
 TVAVERXEY. 21 
 
 creaseci its violence. The library at Waverley-Honour, 
 a large Gothic room, with double arches and a gallery, 
 contained that miscellaneous and extensive collection ot* 
 volumes usually assembled together, during the course of 
 two hundred years, by a family which have been always 
 wealthy, and inchned of course, as a mark of splendour, 
 to furnish their shelves with the current literature of the 
 day, without much scrutiny or nicety of discrimination. 
 Through this ample rea.m Edward was permitted to 
 roam at large. His tutor had his own studies ; and 
 church pohtics 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 heu', 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 himself a student, and, like his sister Miss Rachael 
 Waverley, held the vulgar doctrine, that idleness is in- 
 compatible 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. Widi a desire of amusement therefore, which 
 better disciphne might soon have converted into a thirst 
 for knowledge, young Waverley drove through the sea 
 of books, Hke a vessel without a pilot or a rudder. 
 Nothing perhaps increases by indulgence more than a 
 desultory habit of reading, especially under such oppor- 
 tunities of gratifying it. I believe one reason why such 
 numerous instances of erudition occur among the lower 
 rank 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
 
 22 W AVE RLE Y. 
 
 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 
 over, and stored in a memory of uncommon tenacity, 
 much curious, though ill-arranged and miscellaneous in- 
 formation. In English literature he was master of Shak- 
 speare and Milton, of our earlier dramatic authors, of 
 many picturesque and interesting passages from our old 
 historical chronicles, and particularly of Spenser, Drayton, 
 and other poets who have exercised themselves on ro- 
 mantic 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 the 
 Italian opened him yet a wider range. }le had perused 
 the numerous romantic poems, w'hich, 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 wdiich 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 authors ; and the 
 French had afforded him an almost exhauslless collection 
 of memoirs, scarcely more faithful than romances, and of 
 romances so w^ell written as hardly to be distinguished 
 from memoirs. The splendid pages of Froissart, with 
 his heart-stirring and eye-dazzling description of war and 
 of tournaments, were among his chief 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 literature 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 yet, knowing much that is known but to few, 
 Edward Waverley might justly be considered as ignorant,
 
 WAVERIEY. 23 
 
 since he knew little of what adds dignity to man, and 
 quahfies 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 
 Mrs. Richard Waverley died in the seventh year after 
 the reconciliation between the brothers, and 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-Buildino'. 
 
 o 
 
 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 Eve- 
 rard's affectionate apprehension. He tried to counter- 
 balance these propensities, by engaging his nephew in 
 field-sports, which had been the chief pleasure of his 
 own youth. But although Edward eagerly carried the 
 gun for one season, yet when practice had given him 
 some dexterity, the pastime ceased to afford him amuse- 
 ment. In the succeeding sprins; the perusal of old Isaac 
 Walton's fascinating volume, determined Edward to be-
 
 214 WAYERLET. 
 
 come " a brother of 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, might have had their usual effect upon 
 our youthful visionary. But the neighbourhood was 
 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 emulate them in 
 the practice of those pastimes which composed the se- 
 rious business of their hves. Sir Everard had, upon 
 the death of Queen Anne, resigned his seat in parliament, 
 and, as his age increased and the number of his contem- 
 poraries diminished, gradually withdrawn himself from 
 society ; so that, when, upon any particular occasion, 
 Eduard 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 dislike of society. 
 The idea of having committed the slightest solecism in 
 politeness, whether real or imaginary, 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 mod- 
 est, sensitive, and inexperienced youth feels from the 
 consciousness of having neglected etiquette, or excited 
 ridicule. Where we are not at ease, we cannot be hap- 
 py ; and therefore it is not surprising, that Edward Wa- 
 rerley supposed that he disliked and was unfitted for 
 society, m.erely because he had not yet acquired the 
 habit of living in it with ease and comfort, and of recip- 
 rocally 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
 
 WAVEULET. 
 
 25 
 
 genealogical history, upon which much of Sir Everard's 
 discourse turned, is the very reverse of amber, which 
 itself a valuable substance, usually includes flies, straw.s 
 and other trifles, whereas these studies, being themselves 
 very insignificant and trifling, 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 Waver- 
 ley yawned at times over the dry deduction of his hue 
 of ancestors, with their various intermarriages, and in- 
 wardly deprecated the remorseless and protracted accu- 
 racy with which the worthy Sir Everard rehearsed the 
 various degrees of propinquity between the house of 
 Waverley-Honour and the doughty barons, knights, and 
 squires, to whom they stood allied ; if (notwhhstanding 
 his obligations to the three ermines passant) he sometime? 
 cursed in his heart the jargon of heraldry, its griflins, 
 its moldwarps, its wiverns, and its dragons, with all the 
 bitterness of Hotspur himself, there were moments when 
 these communications 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 on the evening when 
 the betrothed of hi^ heart had wedded the hero who had 
 protected her from insult and oppression during his ab- 
 sence ; the generosity with which the crusader relinquish- 
 ed 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 flowed and his eye glis- 
 tened. Nor was he less affected, when his aunt, Mrs. 
 Rachael narrated the sufferings and fortitude of Lady 
 Alice Waverley during the great civil war. The benevo- 
 lent features of the venerable spinster kindled into a more 
 majestic expression as she told how Charles had, after the 
 field of Worcester, found a day's refuge at Waverley- 
 Honour, and hov*', when a troop of cavalry were ap- 
 proaching to search the mansion. Lady Alice dismissed 
 
 3 VOL. I.
 
 ;6 
 
 AVAVERLEY. 
 
 her youngest son with a handful of domestics, charging 
 them to make good with their Hves an hour's diversion, 
 that the king might have that space for escape. " And, 
 God help her," would Mrs. Rachael continue, fixing her 
 eyes upon the heroine's portrait as she spoke, " full dearly 
 did she purchase the safety of her prince with the hfe 
 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 bis 
 mother's feet. But there was comfort exchanged be- 
 tween them ; for he knew from the glance of his mother's 
 eye that the purpose of his desperate defence was attain- 
 ed — 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 country ran after her, but she 
 wore widow's mourning all her hfe for poor William, for 
 
 they were betrothed though not married, and died in 
 
 I 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 v.here she had been 
 with ray grand-uncle, and caused th» carpets to be raised 
 that she might trace the impression of his blood, and if 
 tears could have washed it out, it !iad 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 leaves dropped around her without a 
 gust of wind ; and indeed she looked hke one that would 
 never see them green again." 
 
 From such legends our hero would steal away to in- 
 dulge the fancies they excited. In the corner of the 
 large and sombre library, with no other hglit than was 
 afforded by the decaying brands on its ponderous and 
 ample heartli, he would exercise for hours that internal 
 sorcery by which past or imaginary events are present- 
 ed in action, as it were, to the eye of the muser. Then
 
 AVAVERLET. 
 
 27 
 
 arose in long and fair array the splendour of the bridal 
 least at Waverley-Castle ; the tall and emaciated form 
 of its real lord, as he stood in his pilgrim's weeds, an 
 unnoticed spectator of the festivities of his supposed heir 
 and intended bride ; the electrical shock occasioned by 
 the discovery ; the springing of the vassals to arms ; the 
 astonishment of the bridegroom ; the terror and confu- 
 sion of the bride ; the agony with which Wilibert ob- 
 served, that her heart as well as consent was in these 
 nuptials ; the air of dignity, yet of deep feeling, whh 
 which he flung down tiie 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 
 present Aunt Rachael'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 Ed- 
 ward can plainly distinguish the galloping of horses, the 
 cries and shouts of men, with straggling pistol-shots be- 
 tween, rolling forwards to the hall. The lady starts 
 up — a terrified menial rushes in — But why pursue such 
 a description. 
 
 As hving in this ideal world became daily more de- 
 lectable to our hero, interruption was disagreeable in 
 proportion. The extensive domain that surrounded the 
 Hall, which, far exceeding the dimensions 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 greyhounds, 
 or to gain an aim at him with the cross-bow\ In one 
 spot distinguished by a moss-grown gothic monument,
 
 i^» AVAVERLEY. 
 
 which retained the name of Queen's Standing, Eliza- 
 beth herself was said to have pierced seven bucks with 
 lier own arrows. This was a favourite haunt of Edward 
 AVaverley. At other times, with his gun and his span- 
 iel, which served as an apology to others, and with a 
 book in his'pocket, which, perhaps, served as an apolo- 
 gy to himself, he used to pursue one of those long aven- 
 ues, which, after an ascending sweep of four miles, 
 gradually narrowed into a rude and contracted path 
 through the clifiy and wooded pass called Mirkwood 
 Dingle, and opened suddenly upon a deep, dark, arwl 
 small lake, named from the same cause, Mirkwood- 
 Ivlere. There stood in former times a sohtary tower 
 upon a rock almost surrounded by the water, which had 
 acquire^d the name of the Strength of Waverley, be- 
 cause, in perilous times, it had often been the refuge of 
 the family. There, in the wars of York and Lancas- 
 ter, the last adherents of the Red Rose who dared to 
 maintain her cause, carried on a harassing and preda- 
 tory warfare, till the strong-hold was reduced by the 
 celebrated Richard of Gloucester. Here, too, a party 
 of cavaliers long maintained themselves under Nigel 
 Waverley, elder brother of that William, whose fate 
 Aunt Rachael 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, cul- 
 led 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 next chapter.
 
 WAVERLET. 
 
 29 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Choke of a Profession. 
 
 From the minuteness with which 1 have traced 
 \Vaverley's pursuits, and the basis which these unavoid- 
 ably communicated to his imagination, the reader may 
 perhaps anticipate, in the following tale, an imitation of 
 the romance of Cervantes. But he wull do my pru- 
 dence injustice in the supposition. My intention is not 
 to follow the steps of that inimitable author, in describ- 
 ing such total perversion of intellect as misconstrues the 
 objects actually presented to the senses, but that more 
 common aberration from sound judgment, which appre- 
 hends occurrences indeed in their reality, but communi- 
 cates to them a tincture of its own romantic tone and 
 colouring. So far was Edward Waverley from expect- 
 ing general sympathy with his oun feelings, or conclud- 
 ing that the present state of things was calculated to ex- 
 hil3it the reality of those visions in which he loved to 
 indulge, that he dreaded nothing more than the detec- 
 tion of such sentiments as were dictated by his musings. 
 He neither had nor wished to have a confidant, with 
 whom to communicate his reveries ; and so sensible was 
 he of the ridicule attached to them, that, had he beer 
 
 choose between any nunishment short of ignominy. 
 
 •nd the necessity of giiving a cold and composed: ac- 
 count of the ideal world in which he lived the betrcr 
 part of his days, I think he would not have hesitated to 
 choose 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 adve-j- 
 
 3* VOL. I.
 
 30 WAVERLEY. 
 
 tures ; nor was he long without looking abroad to com- 
 pare the creatures of his own imagination with the 
 females of actual life. The hst 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. 1 know not whether it 
 was by the "merest accident in the world," a phrase 
 which from female lips does not always exclude 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 courage to accost her on these oc- 
 casions ; but the meeting was not without its effect. A 
 romantic lover is a strange idolater, who sometimes cares 
 not out of what log he frames the object of his adora- 
 tion ; at least, if nature has given that object any passa- 
 ble proportion of personal charms, he can easily play 
 the Jeweller and Dervise in the oriental tale,* and sup- 
 ply her richly, out of the stores of his own imagination, 
 with supernatural beauty, and all the properties of in- 
 tellectual wealth. But ere the charms of Miss CeciHa 
 Stubbs had erected her into a positive goddess, or ele- 
 vated her at least to a level with the saint her namesake, 
 Mrs. Rachael Waverley gained some intimation which 
 determined her to prevent the approaching apotheo- 
 sis. Even the most simple and unsuspicious of the fe- 
 male sex have (God bless them !) an instinctive sharp- 
 ness of perception in such matters, which sometimes 
 goes the length of observing p^'tiahties that never ex- 
 isted, but rarely misses to detect such as pass actually 
 under their observation. Mrs. Rachael 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 some- 
 thing more of the world, than was consistent with con- 
 
 * See Hcjipner's T^^^i of the Seven Lovers.
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 31 
 
 stant residence at Waverley-Honour. Sir Everard would 
 not at first listen to a proposal which went to separate 
 his nephew from him. Edward was a htlle bookish, he 
 admitted ; but youth, he had ahvays heard, was the 
 season for learning, and, no doubt, when his rage for 
 letters was abated, and his head fully stocked with 
 knowledge, his nephew would take to field-sports and 
 country business. He had often, he said, himself re- 
 gretted that he had not spent some time in study during 
 his youth : he would neither have shot or hunted with 
 less skill, and he might have made the roof of St. Ste- 
 phen's echo to longer orations than were comprised in 
 those zealous Noes, w^ith which, when a member of the 
 house during Godolpbin's administration, he encounter- 
 ed every measure of government. 
 
 Aunt Rachael'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 assertion to the 
 genealogical pedigree, an authority which Sir Everard 
 was never known to contradict. In short, a proposal 
 was made to ^Ir. Richard Waverley that his son should 
 travel, under the direction of his present tutor, Mr. 
 Pembroke, with a suitable allowance from the baronet's 
 liberality. He 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 explain- 
 ed 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 hope- 
 ful 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 Waver- 
 ley's society be at Paris, what at Rome, where all man- 
 ner of snares were spread by the Pretender and his sons ; 
 these 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 W^averley's merits,
 
 32 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 that if his son adopted the army for a few years, a 
 troop, he beheved, might be reckoned upon in one of 
 the dragoon regiments lately returned from Flanders. 
 A hint thus conveyed and enforced, was not to be neg- 
 lected 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 calculat- 
 ed much, and justly, upon Sir Everard's fondness for 
 Edward, which was unlikely to resent any step that he 
 might take in due submission to parental authority. 
 Two letters announced this determination to the baronet 
 and his nephew. The latter barely communicated the 
 fact, and pointed out the necessary preparations for 
 joining his regiment. To his brother, Richard was more 
 diffuse and circuitous. He coincided with him in the 
 most flattering manner in the propriety of his son's see- 
 ing a little more of the world, and was even humble in 
 expressions of gratitude for his proposed assistance ; 
 was, however deeply concerned that it was now, unfor- 
 tunately, not in Edward's power exactly to comply v,-ith 
 the plan which had been chalked out by his best friend' 
 and benefactor. He himself had thought with pain on 
 the boy's inactivity, at an age when all his ancestors had 
 borne arms ; even Royalty himself had deigned to in- 
 quire whether young Waverley was not nov/ in Flanders, 
 at an age when his grandfather Vv'as already bleeding for 
 his king,'i^the great Civil War. This was accompa- 
 nied 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 objec- 
 tions 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 lieuten- 
 ant being overleapt with 2;reat agility) Captain Waver- 
 ley, of the regiment of Dragoons, which he must 
 
 join in their quarters at D in Scotland, in the course 
 
 of a month.
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 33 
 
 Sir Everard Waverley received this intimation with a 
 mixture of feelings. At the period of the Hanoverian 
 succession, he had withdrawn from parhament, and his 
 conduct, in the memorable yeiar 1715, had not been al- 
 together unsuspected. There were reports of private 
 musters of tenants and horses in Waverley-Chase by 
 moonlight, and of cases of carbines and pistols purcha.s- 
 ed in Holland, and addressed to the baronet, but inter- 
 cepted 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 yeomen, for his offi- 
 ciousness. Nay, it was even said that at the arrest of 
 Sir \V W , the leader of the tory party, a let- 
 ter from Sir Everard was found in the pocket of his 
 night-2:own. But there was no overt act to be founded 
 on, and government, contented with suppressing the in- 
 surrection of 1715, felt it neither prudent nor safe to 
 push their vengeance farther than against those who ac- 
 tually took up arms. Nor did Sir Everard's apprehen- 
 sions of personal consequences seem to correspond with 
 the reports spread among his whig neighbours. It was 
 'well known that he 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 iMarshalsea, and it was 
 his solicitor and ordinary counsel who conducted the de- 
 fence of some of these unfortunate gentlemen at their 
 trial. It was generally supposed, 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, however, 
 which then dictated his proceedings, were 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 out for want of fuel. His tory 
 and high-church principles were kept up by some occa- 
 sional exercise at elections, and quarter-sessions ; but 
 those respecting hereditary right were fallen into a sort
 
 34 WAVERXEY. 
 
 of abeyance. Yet it jarred severely upon his feelings, 
 that his nephew should go into the army under the 
 Brunswick 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 inter- 
 fere authoritatively to prevent it. This suppressed vex- 
 ation 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 con- 
 soled himself 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 gran- 
 deur and warlike glory, he concluded, with logic some- 
 thing hke FalstafF's, that when war was at hand, al- 
 though 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 rebellion could make it. As for 
 Aunt Rachael, her scheme had not exactly terminated 
 according to her wishes, but she was under the necessity 
 of submitting to circumstances ; and her mortification 
 was diverted by the em.ployment 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 he 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 infloence 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 Rachael, 
 who, with her spectacles dimmed with tears, trans-
 
 MAVERIEY. o5 
 
 ferred them to her common-place book, among choice 
 receipts for cookery and niedicine, favourite texts, and 
 portions from high-church divines, and a few song?, 
 amatory and jacobitical, which she had carolled in her 
 younger days, from whence ihey were extracted when 
 the volume itself, with 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 3f irkwood-Mere's romantic dell, 
 The lake returu'd, in chasien'd gleam, 
 The purple cloud, the golden beam : 
 Reflected in the crystal pool, 
 Headland and bank lay fair and cool : 
 The weather-tinted reck and tower. 
 Each drooping tree, each fairy flower, 
 So true, so soft, the miiTor gave. 
 As if there lay beneath the wave. 
 Secme from trouble, toil, and care, 
 A world than earthly world more fair. 
 
 But distant winds begem to wake. 
 A nd roused the Genius of the Lake '. 
 He heard the groaning of the oak, 
 And donn'd at once his sable cloak, 
 As warrior at the baitle-cry 
 Invests him with his panoply ; 
 Then as the whirlwind nearer press'd, 
 He 'gan to shake his foamy creil 
 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'dlhe wind with wave and wood 
 L^pon the ruiu'd lower I stoo''., 
 And fell my heart more strongly i/cund, 
 Responsive to tlie lofty sound,
 
 While, joying in the mighty rear, 
 
 I mourn'd that tranquil scene no more. 
 
 So, on tlie icUe dreams of youth 
 Breaks the loud trumpet-call of Truth, 
 Bids each fair vision pass away, 
 Like landscapes on the lake that lay. 
 As fair, as flitting, and as frail, 
 As that which fled the Autumn gale — 
 Forever 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 I 
 
 In sober 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 Rachael, he was induced (nothing 
 loth, if the truth must be told) to present himself in full 
 uniform. 
 
 There is no better antidote against entertaining loo 
 high an opinion of others, 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, boots, and broad-sword. 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 tl;e land had power 
 
 His frozen heart to move ; — 
 
 Or whether the deep and flaming bars of embroidered 
 gold, uhich noA" ienced his breast, defied the artillery of 
 CeciUa's eyes, but everv artov/ was launched at him in 
 vain.
 
 VrAVEIlLEY. 37 
 
 Yet did I mark where Cupid's shaft did light : 
 It lighted not on little western flower, 
 But on a 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 melan- 
 choly 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 the dissipation of certain 
 idle visions which she hacf adopted, quietly contented 
 herself with ^ pis-aller, and gave her hand, at the dis- 
 tance of six months, to the aforesaid Jonas, son of the 
 baronet's steward, an heir (no unfertile prospect) to a 
 steward's fortune ; besides the snug probabihty of suc- 
 ceeding to his father's office. All these advantages 
 moved 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 
 Rachael, who had hitherto looked rather askaunce upon 
 the presumptuous damsel, (as much so peradventure as 
 her nature would permit) but who, on the first appear- 
 ance of the new-married pair at church, honoured the 
 bride with a smile and a profound courtesy, in presence 
 of the rector, the curate, the clerk, and the whole con- 
 gregation of the united parishes' of Waverley cum 
 Beverly. 
 
 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 1 should 
 explain the motives on which its action proceeded, and 
 these motives necessarily arose from the feeiinas, pi'eju- 
 dices, and parties, of the times. I do not invite my fair 
 readers, whose sex and impatience pive them the Ci'- at- 
 est right to complain of these circumstances, into a fly- 
 
 4 VOL. I.
 
 38 
 
 WAVEBLEY. 
 
 ing chariot drawn by hyppogriffs, or moved by enchant- 
 ment. Mine is a Jiumble English post-chaise, drawn 
 upon four wheels, and keeping his majesty's liighway. 
 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, arid a civil driver, (as the ad- 
 vertisements have it) I also engage to get as soon as 
 possible into a more picturesque and romantic country, 
 if my passengers inchne to have some patience with me 
 during my first stages. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 The Adieus of Waverley. 
 
 It was upon the evening of this memorable Sunday 
 that Sir Everard entered the library, where he narrow- 
 ly missed surprising our young hero as he went through 
 the guards of the broad-sword with the ancient weapon 
 of old Sir Hildebrand, which, being preserved as an 
 heir-loom, usually hung over the chimney in the hbrary, 
 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 feel- 
 ing. '• Nephew," he said ; and then, as mending his
 
 WAVERIET. 39 
 
 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, that you should leave us to take up the profes- 
 sion 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. iVnd, 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 supphed, according to the rubric, 
 with the word king ; but as, unfortunately, that word 
 conveyed a double and embarrassing sense, one meaning 
 de facto, and the other dejure, the knight filled up the 
 blank otherwise) — the church of England, and all con- 
 stituted authorities." Then, not trusting himself with 
 any further oratory, he carried his nephew to his stables 
 to see the horses he 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 were 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 enhsted 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 at-
 
 40 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 tendance would be thought unusual in these days, when 
 ei'ery new and foolish fashion is introduced to break the 
 natural dependence of the people upon their landlords." 
 Sir Everard had done his best to correct this unnatural 
 disposition 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 con- 
 viviality than the discipline of their march. After in- 
 specting the cav^Jry, Sir Everard again conducted his 
 nephew to the library, where he produced a letter, 
 carefully folded, siUTounded by a little stripe of flox- 
 silli, according to ancient form, and sealed with an ac- 
 curate impression of the Waverley coat-of-arms. It was 
 addressed, w:th great formality, " To Cosmo Comyne 
 Bradwardine, 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 Stuart 
 in the year 1715, and was made prisoner at Preston, 
 in Lancashire. He was a man of a very ancient family 
 and somewhat embarrassed fortune ; a scholar, accord- 
 ing to the scholarship of Scotchmen, that is, his learn- 
 ing 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 uncommon instance. 
 On the road between Preston and 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 recognized and again arrested. His com- 
 panions, and even his escort, were surprised at his infat- 
 uation, and could not help inquiring, why, being once at 
 liberty, he had not made the best of his way to a place of 
 safety ; to which he rephed, that he had intended to do
 
 WAVERLEY. 41 
 
 SO, but, in good faith, he had returned to seek his Tiius 
 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 Patavin- 
 ian, 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 so exerted himself to remove 
 and soften evidence, detect legal flaws, etcetera, that he 
 accomplished the final discharge and dehverance 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, Tully) 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 Ev- 
 erard, notwithstanding the difference of their habits and 
 studies in other particulars ; and, having spent several 
 weeks at Waverley-Honour, he departed with many ex- 
 pressions of regard, warmly pressing the baronet to re- 
 *urn his visit, and partake of the diversion of grouse- 
 ihooting 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 denom- 
 ination, had, in its original form of Scotch pounds, shil- 
 lings, and pence, such a formidable efi'ect upon the 
 frame of Duncan Macvvheeble, the laird's confidential 
 
 4* VOL. I,
 
 42 WAVE RLE T. 
 
 factor, baron baillie, and man of resource, that he had 
 a fit of the colic which lasted for five days, occasioned, he 
 said, solely and utterly by becoming the unhappy instru- 
 ment 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 is it often the most 
 suspicious mark of other feelings ; and many who knew 
 Baillie Macwheeble, concluded that his professions of 
 regret were not altogether disinterested, and that he would 
 have grudged the monies paid to the loons at Westmin- 
 ster much less had they not come from Bradwardine es- 
 tate, a fund which he considered as more particularly 
 his own. But the Baillie 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, w^as reimburs- 
 ed 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 the kingdom of Scot- 
 land at large, that these disbursements should be repaid 
 forthwith, and if delayed, it would be a matter of na~ 
 tional reproach. Sir Everard, accustomed to treat much 
 larger sums with indifference, received the remittance of 
 £.294 : 13 : 6, without being aware that the payment 
 was an international concern, and, indeed, would proba- 
 bly have forgot the circumstance altogether, if Baillie 
 Macwheeble had thought of comforting his colic by in- 
 tercepting the subsidy. A yearly intercourse took place, 
 of a short letter, and a hamper or a cask or two be- 
 tween Waverley-Honour and Tully-Veolan, the English 
 exports consisting of mighty cheeses and mightier ale, 
 pheTiSants, and venison, and the Scottish returns, being 
 vested in grouse, white hares, pickled salmon, and us- 
 quebaugh. All which were meant 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 pro-
 
 WAVERLET. 43 
 
 priety visit Scotland without being furnished with cre- 
 dentials to the Baron of Bradwardine. 
 
 When this matter was explained and settled, Mr. 
 Pembroke expressed his wish to take a private and par- 
 ticular leave of his dear pupil. The good man's exhor- 
 tations to Edward to preserv^e an unblemished hfe and 
 morals, to hold fast the principles of the Christian re- 
 ligion, and to eschew the profane company of scoffers 
 and latitudinarians, too much abounding in the army, 
 were not unmingled with his political prejudices. It 
 had pleased Heaven, he said, to place Scotland (doubt- 
 less 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, ahhough the can- 
 dlestick of the church of England had been in some 
 degree removed from its place, it yet afforded a ghm- 
 mering light ; there was a hierarchy, though schismati- 
 cal and fallen from the principles maintained by those 
 great fathers of the church, Sancroft and his brethren ; 
 there was a liturgy, though wofully perverted in some of 
 the principal petitions. But in Scotland it was utter 
 darkness, and excepting a sorrowful, scattered, and per- 
 secuted remnant, the pulpits were abandoned to pres- 
 byterians, and, he feared, to sectaries of every descrip- 
 tion. 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 im- 
 mense 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 oi 
 giving them to the world, by the medium of a bookselle? 
 in Little Britain, well known to deal in such commodi- 
 ties, and to whom he was instructed to address himself 
 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
 
 44 WAVER LEY. 
 
 Shibboleth, with the appropriate 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 perhaps you 
 are more lately from Rome ? it must be Rome will do 
 it at last — the church must hght its candle at the old 
 lamp. — Eh — what, cautious ? I like you the better ; but 
 no fear." 
 
 Here Mr. Pembroke with some difficulty stopped a 
 torrent of interrogations, eked out with signs, nods, and 
 winks ; and, having at length convinced the bookseller 
 that he did him too much honour in supposing him an 
 emissary of exiled royalty, he explained his real busi- 
 ness. 
 
 The man of books with a much miore composed air 
 proceeded to examine the manuscripts. The title of 
 the first was, " A Dissent from Dissenters, or the Com- 
 prehension confuted ; showing the impossibility of any 
 composition between the Church and Puritans, Presby- 
 terians, 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 m.eant," 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 some- 
 thing for the honour of the cloth — But come, let's see 
 the other. " Right hereditary righted !" — Ay ! there's 
 some sense in this. Hum — hum — hum — pages so many, 
 
 paper so much, letter-press Ay — I'll tell you, though, 
 
 doctor, you must knock out some of the Latin and
 
 WAVERLEY. 45 
 
 Greek ; heavy, doctor, damn'd heavy — (beg your par- 
 don) and if you throw in a few grains more pepper — I 
 am he that never peached my author — I have pubhshed 
 for Drake and Charlwood Lawton, and poor Amherst — 
 All, 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 f — 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 unci\il the last time in Old 
 Palace Yard — all whigs and round-heads every man of 
 them, Williamites and Hanover rats." 
 
 The next day Mr. Pembroke again called on the 
 pubhsher, but found Tom Alibi's advice had determined 
 him against undertaking the work. " Not but what I 
 would go to — (What T\as I going to say f) to the plan- 
 tations for the church with pleasure — but, dear doctor, I 
 have a wife and family ; but, to show my zeal, I'll recom- 
 mend the job to my neighbour Trimmel — he is a bach- 
 elor, and leaving off business, so a voyage in a western 
 barge v.ould not inconvenience him." But 3Ir. Trim- 
 mel was also obdurate, and ]Mr. Pembroke, fortunately 
 perchance for himself, was compelled to return to Waver- 
 ley-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 
 Ijenefit arising from his lucubrations by the selfish cow- 
 ardice of the trade, Mr. Pembroke resolved to make 
 two copies of these tremendous manuscripts for the use 
 of his pupil. He felt that ]ie 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 
 ;uid state. " But now," thought he, " I may without 
 breach of my word, since he is no longer under my
 
 46 WAVERLEY. 
 
 tuition, afford the youth the means of judging for him- 
 self, 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 ap- 
 palled by the bulk and compact lines of the manuscript, 
 quietly consigned them to a corner of his travelling trunk. 
 Aunt Rachael's farewell was brief and affectionate. 
 She only cautioned her dear Edward, whom she pro- 
 bably deemed somewhat susceptible, against the fascina- 
 tion 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 High- 
 landers ; and respecting them she must needs say, 
 there could be no great delicacy among the ladies, where, 
 the gentleman's usual attire was, as she had been as- 
 sured, to say the least, very singular, and not at all dec- 
 orous. 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, (frequent- 
 ly worn by the male sex at that time) and a purse of 
 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 aban- 
 doned to his own guidance and direction, Edward 
 Waverley departed from the Hall amid the blessings 
 and tears of all the old domestics and the inhabitants of
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 47 
 
 the village, mingled with some sly petitions for ser- 
 jeantcies and corporalships, and so forth, on the part of 
 those who professed that they never tho't 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 so little accustomed to the 
 world. After a short visit to London, he proceeded on 
 horseback, then the general mode of conveyance, to Ed- 
 inburgh, and from thence to D , a sea-port on the 
 
 eastern coast of Angusshire, 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 G , 
 
 the commanding officer of the regiment, was himself a 
 study for a romantic, and at the same time an inquisi- 
 tive youth. In person he was tall, handsome, and ac- 
 tive, though somewhat advanced in life. In his early 
 years, he had been what is called, by manner of palHa- 
 tive, a very gay young man, and strange stories were 
 circulated about his sudden conversion from doubt, if 
 not in6delity, to a serious and even enthusiastic turn of 
 mind. It was whispered that a supernatural communi- 
 cation, 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 cir- 
 cumstance gave Colonel G a peculiar and sol- 
 emn interest in the eyes of the young soldier. It may 
 be easily imagined that the officers of a regiment, com- 
 manded 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. Al- 
 ready a good horseman, he was now initiated into the arts 
 of the manege, which, when carried to perfection, almost
 
 48 AVAYERLEY. 
 
 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 1 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 of- 
 ficer, the most imposing of all others to the inexperi- 
 enced mind, because accompanied with so much out- 
 ward pomp and circumstance, is in its essence a very 
 dry and abstract task, depending chiefly upon arith- 
 metical combinations, 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 Jiis head was not always successful in disentangling 
 the various partial movements necessary to execute 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 mi- 
 nuter rules of military duty beneath his notice, or con- 
 ceitins: himself to be born a 2;eneral because he made 
 an indifierent subaltern. The truth was, that the vague 
 and unsatisfactory course of reading which he had pur- 
 sued, working upon a temper naturally retired and ab- 
 stracted, had given him that wavering and unsettled 
 habit of mind which is most averse to study and rivetted 
 attention. Time, in the mean while, hung heavy on his 
 hands. The gentry of the neighbourhood were disaf- 
 Tected, and showed little hospitality to the v||^ilitary 
 guests ; and the people of the town, chiefly engaged in 
 mercantile p-'rs;i 's, were not such as Waverley chose
 
 WAVERLEY. 49 
 
 to associate with. The arrival of summer, and a cu- 
 riosity 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 re- 
 solved first to visit his uncle's ancient friend and cor- 
 respondent, with a 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 he passed his first night at a miserable inn, 
 where the landlady had neither shoes nor stockings, and 
 the landlord, w4io called himself a gentleman, was dis- 
 posed to be rude to his guest, because he had not be- 
 spoke the pleasure of his society to supper. The next 
 day, traversing an open and unenclosed country, Edward 
 gradually approached the Highlands of Perthshire, 
 which at first had appeared a blue outhne in the horizon, 
 but now swelled into huge gigantic masses, which frown- 
 ed defiance over the more level country that lay be- 
 neath them. Near the bottom of this stupendous bar- 
 rier, but still in the Lowland country, dwelt Cosmo 
 Comyne Bradwardine of Bradwardine ; and if grey- 
 haired eld can be in aught beHeved, there had dwelt his 
 ancestors, with all their heritage, since the days of the 
 gracious King Duncan. 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. 
 
 *d Scottish Manor-House Sixty Years Since, 
 
 It was about noon when Captain Waverley entered 
 the straggling village, or rather hamlet, of Tully-Veolan, 
 close to which was situated the mansion of the proprietor. 
 The houses seemed miserable in the extreme, especially 
 to an eye accustomed to the siniling neatness of Enghsh 
 
 5 VOL. I.
 
 50 WAVERLET. 
 
 cottages. They stood, without any respect or regularity, 
 on each side of a straggling kind of unpaved street, 
 where children, almost in a primhive 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 gran- 
 dame, with her close cap, distaff, and spindle, rushed 
 like a sybil in frenzy out of one of these miserable cells, 
 dashed in^o 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 yelp- 
 ing of a score of idle useless curs, which followed, snarl- 
 ing, barking, howling, and snapping at the horses' heels ; 
 a nuisance at that time so common in Scotland, that a 
 French tourist, v»'ho, hke other travellers, longed to find 
 a good and rational reason for every thing he saw, has re- 
 corded, as one of the memorabilia of Caledonia, that 
 tiie state maintained in each village a relay of curs, called 
 collies, whose duty it was to chase the chevaux de poste 
 (too starved and exhausted to mov^e without such a stim- 
 ulus) from one hamlet to another, till their annoying con- 
 voy diove them to the end of their stage. The evil and 
 remedy (such as it is) still exist : But this is remote fi om 
 our present purpose, and is only thrown out for consid- 
 eration of tlie collectors under ^Ir. 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 
 
 ■)e horses, and then assembled, with his neighbours, in 
 
 little group at the smithy, to discuss the probabiHiies 
 
 f whence the stranger came, and where he might be 
 
 ;;oing. 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-
 
 WAVERLEY. * 51 
 
 gowns and single petticoats, bare anns, legs, and feet, 
 uncovered heads and braided hair, somewhat resembled 
 Itahan 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 com- 
 ^ortahle, a word pecuhar to his native tongue, might have 
 wished the clothes less scanty, the feet and legs somewhat 
 protected from the weather, the head and complexion 
 shrouded from the sun, or perhaps might even have 
 thought the whole person and dress considerably improv- 
 ed by a plentiful application of spring water, with a 
 quantum sufficit of soap. The whole scene was depress- 
 ing, for it argued, at the first glance, at least a stagnation 
 of industry, and perhaps of intellect. Even curiosity, 
 the busiest passion of the idle, seemed of a listless cast 
 in the village of Tully-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 indicate 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 fea- 
 tures were rough, but remarkably intelhgent, grave, but 
 the very reverse of stupid ; and from among the young 
 women, an artist might have chosen more than one niodel 
 whose features and form resembled those of Minerva. 
 The children also, whose skins were burnt black, and 
 w^hose 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 combining to depress the 
 natural genius and acquired information of a hardy, in- 
 telligent, and reflecting peasantry. 
 
 Some such thoughts crossed Waverley's mind as he 
 paced his horse slowly through the rugged and flinty
 
 52 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Street of Tully-Veolan, interrupted only in his meditations 
 by the occasional cabrioles which his charger exhibited 
 at the reiterated assaults of these 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 potatoe was unknown, 
 but which were stored with gigantic plants of kale or 
 colewort, encircled with groves of nettles, and exhibited 
 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 degree, here rising like terraces, there sinking 
 like tan-pits. The dry stone walls w^hich 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 tbe 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 pat- 
 terns. In a few favoured instances, there appeared be- 
 hind the cottages a miserable wigwam, compiled of 
 earth, loose stones, and turf, where the wealthy might 
 perhaps shelter a starved cow or sorely galled horse. But 
 almost every 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 bow-shot from the end of the village appeared 
 the inclosures proudly denominated the parks of Tully- 
 Veolan, being certain square fields, surrounded and divid- 
 ed 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
 
 WAVE RLE T. t>.> 
 
 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 ro^^ 
 of very ancient horse-chesnuts, planted alternately witlj 
 sycamores, which rose to such huge height, and flourish 
 ed so luxuriantly, that their boughs completely overarch- 
 ed the broad road beneath. Beyond these venerable 
 ranks, and running parallel to them, where two high walh:, 
 of apparently the Hke antiquity, overgrown with ivy, 
 honeysuckle, and other climbing plants. The avenu»j 
 seemed very little trodden, and chiefly by foot passes • 
 gers ; so that being very broad, and enjoying a constant 
 shade, it was clothed with grass of a very deep and rich 
 verdure, excepting where a foot-path, worn by occasional 
 passengers, tracked with a nat-jral sweep the way froni 
 the upper to the lower gate. This nether portal, lila: 
 the former, opened in front of a wall ornamented with 
 some rude sculpture, and battlemented on tlie 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 witK 
 small turrets. One of the folding leaves of the lowtr 
 gate was open, and as the sun shone full into the court 
 behind, along line of brilliancy was flung upon the aper- 
 ture up the dark and gloomy avenue. It was one i)i 
 those efl^ects which a painter loves to represent, and 
 mingled well with the struggling light v/hich found ii^ 
 way between the boughs of the shady arch that vault^jd 
 the broad green alley. 
 
 The solitude and repose of the whole scene seem£<! 
 ahnost monastic ; and Waverley, who had given hh 
 liorse to his servant on entering the first gate, walke'[ 
 slowly down the avenue, enjoying the grateful and cool 
 ing shade, and so much pleased with the placid ideas <:' 
 rest and seclusion excited by this connned and qui».t 
 scene, that he forgot the misery and dirt of the haml»j;: 
 he had left behind him. The opening into the paved 
 court-yard corresponded with the rest of the scene. Th«3 
 
 5* VOL. I.
 
 54 
 
 W AVE RLE T. 
 
 house, which seemed to consist of two or three high, 
 narrow, and sleep-roofed buildings, projecting from each 
 other 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 non-descript 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 w'ere loop-holes for musquetry, and iron 
 stanchions on the lower 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, resembhng, 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 dungeon-looking stables were gran- 
 aries, called girnels, and other offices, to which there 
 was access by outside stairs of hea\y masonry. Two 
 battlemented walls, one of which faced the avenue, and 
 the other divided the court from the garden, completed 
 the inclosure. 
 
 Nor was the court w^ithout 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 mend- 
 ing a neighbouring dam-dyke. This dove-cote, or coU 
 umbarium^ as the owner called it, w^as no small resource 
 in a Scottish laird of this period, whose scanty rents were 
 eked out by the contributions levied upon the farms by 
 these iio;ht foragers, and the conscriptions exacted from 
 the latUr for the benefit of the table.
 
 WAVE RLE Y. DD 
 
 Another corner 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 lar^e, demi or in full proportion, were 
 carved over the windows, upon the ends of the 2;ables, 
 terminated the spouts, and supported the turrets, with 
 the ancient family motto ** JJttDtlt tilC iJat/' cut under 
 each hyperborean form. The court was spacious, well 
 paved, and perfectly clean, there being probably another 
 entrance behind the stables for removins; the litter. 
 Every thing around appeared solitary, and would have 
 been silent, but for the continued splashing of the foun- 
 tain ; and the 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. 
 
 •T/ore of the i\'Ianor- House and its Environs. 
 
 After having satisfied his curiosity by gazing around 
 him for a few minutes, Waverley applied himself to the 
 jsassive 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 apart- 
 ments, and was echoed from the court-yard walls without 
 the house, startling the pigeons from the venerable ro- 
 tunda which they occupied, and alarming anew even the 
 distant village curs, which had retired to sleep upoa 
 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.
 
 66 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 When 'gan lie 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 turn- 
 ed to a little oaken wicket-door, well clenched with iron- 
 nails, which opened into the court-yard wall at its angle 
 with the house. It was only latched, notwithstanding 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 evergreens trained upon its walls, extended 
 its irregular yet venerable front, along a terrace, fjartly 
 paved, partly gravelled, partly bordered with flowers and 
 choice shrubs. This elevation descended by three sev- 
 eral flights of steps, placed in its centre and at the ex- 
 tremities, 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 
 liuge 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, inscribed with more diagrams than Ed- 
 ward's mathematics enabled him to decipher. 
 
 The garden, which seemed to be kept with great ac- 
 curacy, and abounded in fruit trees, exhibited a profusion 
 of flowers and evergreens, cut into grotesque forms. If ^ 
 was laid out in terraces, which descended rank by rank 
 from the western wall to 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,
 
 WAVERLEY. 57 
 
 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, dis- 
 played a narrow meadow, 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 it w^anted not the " due donzelette 
 garrule'^ of that enchanting 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 how^ever, like 
 the maidens of Armida, remain to greet with their har- 
 mony the approaching guest, but, alarmed at the appear- 
 ance of a handsome stranger on the opposite side, drop- 
 ped their garments (I should say garment, to be quite 
 correct) over their Hmbs, 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 sohtary and seemingly enchanted mansion, w^hen a 
 man advanced up one of the garden alleys, w^iere he 
 still retained his station. Trusting this might be a gar- 
 dener, 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 its 
 features, he w'as struck with the oddity of its appearance 
 and gestures. Sometimes this mister wight held his 
 hands clasped over his head, like an Indian Jogue in the 
 attitude of penance ; sometimes he swung them perpen- 
 dicularly, hke 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
 
 58 AVAVERXET. 
 
 Stand, in a clear frosty day. His gait was as singular as 
 his gestures, for at times he hopp'd with great persever- 
 ance 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 dress also w^as antiquated and extravagant. It con- 
 sisted in a sort of gray 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 sur- 
 mounted with a turkey's feather. Edward, whom he 
 did not seem to observe now perceived confirmation in 
 his features of what the mien and gestures had already 
 announced. It w^as apparently neither idiocy nor insanity 
 which gave that wild, unsettled, 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, tmd not 
 without some taste, a fragment of an old Scotch ditty : 
 
 False love, and hast lliou play'd me this 
 
 In summer among the flowers ? 
 I will repay thee back again 
 - In winter among the showers. 
 Unless again, again, my love, 
 
 Unless you turn again ; 
 As you with other maidens rove, 
 I '11 smile on other men. 
 
 Here hfting up his eyes, which had hitherto been fixed 
 in observing how his feet kept time to the tune, he be- 
 held Waverley, and instantly dofF'd his cap, with many 
 grotesque signals of surprise, 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." —
 
 AVAYERLEY. 69 
 
 The Knight's to the moiintaia 
 
 His bviglc to w iiid ; 
 The Lady's to greemvood 
 
 Her garland to bind. 
 The l)o\ver of Burd Ellen 
 
 Has moss on the floor, 
 That the step of Lord William 
 
 Be silent and sure. 
 
 This conveyed no information, and Edward, repeat- 
 ing his queries, received a rapid answer, in which, from 
 the haste and peculiarity of the dialect, the word " but- 
 ler" was alone inteUigible. Waverley then requested to 
 see the butler ; upon which the fellow, with a knowing 
 look and nod of intelligence, made a signal to Edward 
 to follow, and began to dance and caper down the alley 
 up 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 hedge, 
 he found an old man at work without his coat, whose ap- 
 , pearance hovered between that of an upper servant and 
 ' gardener ; his red nose and rufded shirt belonging to the 
 former profession ; and 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 Baillie Mac- 
 wheeble, in his own department of the kitchen and cel- 
 lar) — 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 stran- 
 ger while he was engaged in this laborious, and, as he 
 might suppose it, degrading office, requested to know the 
 £:entleman's commands. Being informed that he wished 
 to pay his respects to his master, that his name was \'Va-
 
 00 
 
 WAVERIEY. 
 
 verley, and so forth, the old man's countenance assumed 
 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 
 hag ; the twa gardener lads (an emphasis 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 
 w^eek, 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 <iark hag, and tell him there was a gentle- 
 man 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." 
 
 Waverley delivered his credentials to I\Ir. Gellatley, 
 who seemed to confirm the butler's last observation, by 
 twisting his features at him, when he was looking another 
 w^ay, into the resemblance of the grotesque face on the 
 bole of a German tobacco-pipe ; after which, with an 
 odd conge 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 Enelish 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 yoi'ng mistress,
 
 MAVERLEY. 
 
 61 
 
 (g?€iat folks will have their fancies,) he has done naething 
 but dance up and doun 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 
 any over-time. But here comes Miss Rose, who, I take 
 burden upon me for her, will be especial glad to see one 
 of the house of Waverley at her father's mansion of 
 Tully-Veolan." 
 
 But Rose Bradwardine deserves better of her unwor- 
 thy 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. 
 
 PHAPTER 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 toast-master and croupier of 
 the Bautherwhillery Club, not only said More to the 
 pledge in a pint bumper of Bordeaux, but, ere pouring 
 forth the libation, denominated the divinity to whom iv 
 was dedicated, the " Rose of Tully-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 partner's of the com- 
 pany snorted applause, and thai although strong bumpers 
 and weak brains had consigned two or three to the floor, 
 yet even these, fallen as they were from their high estate, 
 and weltering — I will carry the parody no farther — utter- 
 
 6 VOL. I.
 
 62 WAVERLEY. 
 
 ed divers inarticulate sounds intimating their assent to 
 the motion. 
 
 Such unanimous applause could not be extorted but 
 by acknowledged merit ; and Rose Bradwardine not 
 only deserved it, -but also the approbation of much more 
 rational persons than the Bauthervvhillery Club could 
 have mustered, even before discussion of the first mag- 
 num. 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 hke the snow of her own mountains in 
 whiteness. Yet she had not a pallid or pensive cast of 
 countenance ; her features, as well as her temper, had a 
 lively expression ; her complexion, though not florid, 
 was so pure as to seem transparent, and the shghtest 
 emotion sent her whole blood at once to her face and 
 neck. Her form, though under the common size, was 
 remarkably elegant, and her motions light, easy, and un- 
 embarrassed. She came from another part of the gar- 
 den to receive Captain Waverley, with a manner that 
 hovered betv/een bashfulness and courtesy. 
 
 The first greetings past, Edward learned from her that 
 the dark hag, which had somewhat puzzled him in the 
 butler'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 embarrassed 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 
 ^even-league boots of the nursery fable. He w^as a tall, 
 thin, athletic figure, old indeed and gray-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 perpendicular rigidity of stat- 
 lie bore some resemblance to a Swiss officer of the
 
 WAVE RLE Y. Oo 
 
 guards, who had resided some time at Paris, and caught 
 the costume, but nof the ease or manner of its inhabi- 
 tants. 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 profession, Mr. Bradwardine 
 travelled with high reputation for several years, and 
 made some campaigns in foreign service. After his de- 
 melee with the law of high treason in 1715, he had lived 
 in retirement, conversing almost entirely with those of 
 his own principles in the vicinage. The pedantry of the 
 lawyer, superinduced upon the military pride of the sol- 
 dier, 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-cultivated estate, was there indis- 
 putable and undisputed. For, as he used to observe, 
 •' the lands of Bradwardine, Tully-Veolan, and others, 
 had been erected into a free barony by a charter from 
 David the First, cum liberali potest, hahendi curias et 
 justicias, cum fossa et furca (lie pit and gallows) et 
 saka et soka, et thol et theam, et infang-thief et outfang- 
 thief, sive hand-hcthend. 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 imprison, try, and execute 
 his vassals and tenants at his pleasure. Like James 
 the First, however, the present possessor of this author- 
 ity was more pleased in talking about prerogative than in 
 exercising it ; and excepting that he imprisoned two 
 poachers in the dungeon of the old tower of Tully-Veo- 
 lan, where they were sorely frightened by ghosts, and
 
 64 WAVERLEY. 
 
 almost eaten by rats, and that he set an old woman in 
 the jougs, (or Scottish pillory) forlsaying "there were 
 inair fules in the laird's ha' house than Davie Gellatley," 
 1 do not learn that he was accused of abusing his high 
 powers. Still, however, the conscious pride of possess- 
 ing 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 Bradwardine's demeanour, for 
 the tears stood in the old gentleman's eyes, when, hav- 
 ing first shaken Edward heartily by the hand in the 
 English fashion, he embraced him a-la-mode Francoise^ 
 and kissed him on both sides of his face ; while the 
 hardness of his gripe, and the quantity of Scotch snufF 
 which his accolade communicated, 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 
 w^orthy scion of the old stock of Waverley-Honour — spes 
 altera, as IMaro hath it — and you have the look of the old 
 hne, Captain Waverley ; not so portly yet as my old friend 
 Sir Everard — mats cela viendra avec le terns, as my 
 Dutch acquaintance. Baron Kikkitbroeck, said of the 
 sagesse of Madame son epouse. — And so ye have 
 mounted the cockade .'' Right, right ; though I could 
 have wished the colour different, and so I would 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. Rachael ^ — 
 Ah, ye laugh, young man ; but she was the fair Mrs. 
 Rachael in the year of grace seventeen hundred and 
 sixteen ; but time passes — et singula pradarttur anni — 
 that is most certain. But once again, ye are most 
 heartily welcome to my poor house of Tully-Veolan ! 
 — Hie to the house. Rose, and see that Alexander 
 Saunderson looks out the old Chateau Margoux, which 
 1 sent from Bourdeaux to Dundee in the year 1713."
 
 WAVERLEY. 65 
 
 Rose tripped off demurely enough till she turned the 
 first corner, and then ran with the speed of a fairy, thai 
 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 ap- 
 proaching dinner-hour left but little time. 
 
 " We cannot rival the luxuries of your English table, 
 Captain AVaverley,or give you the epulce lautiores of Wa- 
 verley-Honour — I say epulce rather than prandium, be- 
 cause the latter phrase is popular ; EpuJce ad senatum. 
 prandium vero ad populum attinet, says Suetonius Tran- 
 quillus. But I trust ye will applaud my Bourdeaux ; c^est 
 des doux oreilles, as Captain Vinsauf used to say — Vinum 
 primce notce, the Principal of St. Andrews denominated it. 
 And, once more, Captain Waverley, right glad am 1 
 that ye are here to drink the best my cellar can make 
 forthcoming." 
 
 This speech, with the necessary interjectional an- 
 swers, 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, 
 
 la 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 apart- 
 ment, conducted his guest through several into the great, 
 dining parlour, wainscoated with black oak, and huns. 
 round with the pictures of his ancestry, where a tabl^- 
 was set forth in form for six persons, and an old-fashior- 
 ed beaufet, displayed all the ancient and massive platr 
 of the Bradwardine family. A bell was now heard & 
 the head of the avenue ; for an old man, who acted a^ 
 porter upon gala days, had caught the alarm given b) 
 Waverley's arl^jval, and, repairing to his post, announcer! 
 the arrival of other guests. 
 
 6* VOL. I.
 
 66 WAVERLEY. 
 
 These, as the Baron assured his young friend, were 
 very estimable persons. " There was the young Laird 
 of Balmawhapple, a Falconer by surname, of the house 
 of Glenfarquhar, given right much to field-sports — 
 gaudet equis et canibus — but a very discreet young gen- 
 tleman. Then there was the Laird of Killancureit, who 
 ^ad devoted his leisure initil tillage and agricuhure, and 
 boasted himself to be possessed of a bull of matchless mer- 
 it, 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 — servahit oclorem testa diu — 
 and I believe, between ourselves, his grandsire was from 
 the wrong side of the Border — one Bullsegg, who came 
 hither as a steward, or baihfF, or ground officer, or some- 
 thing in that department, to the last Girnigo of Killan- 
 cureit, who died of an atrophy. After his master's 
 «^<eath, sir, — ye would hardly believe such a scandal, — but 
 this Bullsegg, being portly and comely of aspect, inter- 
 married with the lady dowager, who was young and 
 amorous, and possessed himself of the estate, which 
 devolved on this unhappy woman by a settlement 'of her 
 umvv^hile husband, in direct contravention of an unre- 
 corded 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 hy the ensuing law-suit, that his repre- 
 sentative 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, wbo were 
 both of the family of Pickletillim, and he is v/ell liked 
 and looked upon, and knows his own place. iVnd God 
 ioj-bid, Captain Waverley, that we of irreproachable 
 lineage, should exult over him, when it may be, that in 
 ihe eighth, ninth, or tenth generation, his progeny may 
 rank, in a manner, with the old gentry of the country. 
 Rank and ancestry, sir, sbould be the last words in the 
 mouths of us men of unblemished race^ — vix ea nostro
 
 AVAVERIEY. 67 
 
 COCO, 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 1715, 
 when a whiggish mob destroyed his meeting-house, tore 
 his surplice, and plundered his dwelHng-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-BailHe and doer, Mr. Duncan Macwheeble, is the 
 fourth on our Hst. There is a question owing to the incer- 
 titude of ancient orthography, whether he belongs to 
 the clan of Wheedle or of Quibble, but both have pro- 
 duced persons eminent in the law." 
 
 And thus he described them by person aiid name, 
 Thev enter "d. and dinner was served as thev caune. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 The Banquet. 
 
 The entertainment was ample, and handsome accord- 
 ing to the Scotch ideas of the period, and the guests did 
 great honour to it. The Baron eat hke a famished sol- 
 dier, the Laird of Balmawhapple Hke a sportsman, Bulls- 
 et;g of Killancureit like a farmer, AVaverley himself hke 
 a traveller, and BailHe Macwheeble like all four to- 
 gether, though, either out of more respect, or in order 
 to preserve that proper dechnation 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 com- 
 munication with his plate by projecting his person to- 
 wards it in a line which obUqued from the bottom of his 
 spine, so that the person w^ho sat opposite to him could 
 only see the foretop of his riding periwig.
 
 68 WAVERIEY. 
 
 This stooping position might have been inconvenient 
 to another person, but long habit made it, whether 
 seated or walking, perfectly easy to the worthy Baillie. 
 In the latter posture, it occasioned, no doubt, an un- 
 seemly projection of the person towards those who hap- 
 pened to walk behind ; but those being at all times his 
 inferiors, (for Mr. Macwheeble w^as very scrupulous in 
 giving place to all others,) he cared very Httle what in- 
 ference of contempt or shght regard they might derive 
 from the circumstance. Hence, when he waddled across 
 the court to and from his old grey pony, he some- 
 what resembled a turnspit walking upon ils hind legs. 
 
 The nonjuring clergyman was a pensive and interest- 
 ing old man, with much the air of a sufferer for con- 
 science sake. He was one of those. 
 
 Who, uiideprived, llieir benefice forsook. 
 
 For this whim, when the Baron was out of hearing, the 
 BaiUie used sometimes gently to rally Mr. Kubrick, up- 
 braiding him whh the nicety of his scruples. Indeed, 
 it must be owned, that he himself, though at heart a 
 keen partisan of the exiled family, had kept pretty fair 
 vvith all the different turns of the state in his time ; so that 
 Davie Gellatley once described him as a particularly good 
 man, 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 dp 
 jure, as their politics inclined. The conversation now 
 became general ; and, shortly afterwards, Miss Brad- 
 wardine, who had done the honours with natural grace 
 and simplicity, retired, and was soon followed by the 
 clergyman. Among the rest of the party, the wine, 
 which fully justified the encomiums of the landlord, 
 trowed freely round, although Waverlcy, with some dif- 
 ficulty obtained the privilege of sometimes neglecting
 
 WAVERLEY. 69 
 
 his glass. At length, as the evening grew more late, 
 the Baron made a private signal to Mr. Saunders Saun- 
 derson, or, as he facetiously denominated him, Alexan- 
 der ah Alexandra, who left the room with a nod, and 
 soon after returned, his grave countenance manthng with 
 a solemn and mysterious smile, and placed before his 
 master a small oaken casket, mounted with brass orna- 
 ments of curious form. The Baron, drawing out a pri- 
 vate key, unlocked the casket, raised the Hd, and pro- 
 duced a golden goblet of a singular and antique appear- 
 ance, 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 carous- 
 ing cups. But Mr. Bradwardine, turning towards him 
 with complacency, requested him to observe this curious 
 relique 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 pos- 
 ture, as a horse salient, a greyhound 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 wap- 
 pen-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 hsts in the Holy Land, on a quarrel touch- 
 ing the chastity of the emperor's spouse or daughter, tra- 
 dition saith not precisely which ; and thus as Virgihus 
 hath it — 
 
 Mutemus clypeos, Danaumque insignia nobis 
 Aptemus. 
 
 Then for the cup. Captain Waverley, it was wrought 
 by the command of Saint Duthac, Abbot of Aberbro- 
 thock, for behoof of another baron of the house of Brad- 
 wardine, who had vaUantly defended the patrimony of 
 that monastery against certain encroaching nobles. It
 
 70 WAVERIEY, 
 
 is properly termed the Blessed Bear of Bradvvardine, 
 (though old Dr. Doubleit used jocosely to call it Ursa 
 Major,) and was supposed, in old and catholic times, 
 to be invested with certain properties of a mystical and 
 supernatural quality. And though I give not in to such 
 anilia, it is certain it has always been esteemed a sol- 
 emn standard cup and heirloom of our house 3 nor is it 
 ever used but upon seasons of high festival, and such 
 1 hold to be the arrival of the heir of Sir Everard un- 
 der my roof; and I 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, deliver- 
 ing 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 horror and alarm, beheld the animal 
 making his rounds, and thought with great anxiety upon 
 the appropriate motto, '* Beware the Bear ;" but 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 ill received. Resolv- 
 ing, therefore, to submit to this last piece of tyranny, 
 and then to quit the table, if possible, and confiding in 
 the strength of his constitution, he did justice to the 
 company in the contents of the Blessed Bear, and felt 
 less inconvenience from the draught than he could pos- 
 sibly have expected. The others, whose time had been 
 more actively employed, began to show symptoms of in- 
 novation, — " 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 dignita- 
 ries had hitherto addressed each other, were now fa- 
 miliarly abbreviated into Tully, Bally, and Killie. When 
 a few rounds had passed, the two latter, after whisper- 
 ing together, craved permission (a joyful hearing for Ed-
 
 AVAVERXEY. 71 
 
 ward) to ask the grace cup. This, after some delay, 
 was at length produced, and Waverley concluded the 
 orgies of Bacchus were terminated for the evening. 
 He was nevermore mistaken in his life»_ 
 
 As the guests had left their horses at the small inn, or 
 chano;e-house, 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 en- 
 joy, after this feverish revel, the cool summer evening, 
 attended the party. But when they arrived at Luckie 
 Macleary's, the Lairds of Bahnawhapple and Killancureit 
 declared their determination to acknowledge their sense of 
 the hospitality of Tully-Veolan, hy partaking, with their 
 entertainer and his guest Captain Waverley, what they 
 technically called dv.soch an dore, a stirrup-cup, to the 
 lionour of the Baron's roof tree. 
 
 It must be noticed, that the Baillie, knowing by expe- 
 rience 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 for being 
 hooked into a reckoning spurred him into a hobbling 
 canter, (a trot was out of the question,) and had al- 
 ready cleared the village. The others entered:! the 
 change-house, leading Edward in unresisting submis- 
 sion ; for his landlord whispered him, that to demur to 
 such an overture would be construed into a hi2;h mis- 
 demeanour against the leges conviviaJes, or regulations 
 of genial compotation. Widow Macleary seemed to 
 have expected this visit, as wellshe might, for it was the 
 usual consummation of merry-bouts, not only at Tully- 
 Veolan, but at most other gentlemen's houses in Scot- 
 land, Sixty Years Since. The guests thereby at once 
 acquitted themselves of their burden of gratitude to 
 their entertainer's kindness, encouraged the trade of 
 }]is change-house, did honour to the place which af- 
 forded harbour to their horses, and indemnified them- 
 selves for the previous restraints imposed by private
 
 72 WAVERLET. 
 
 hospitality, by spending what FalstafF calls the sweet of 
 the night, in the genial Hcense of a tavern. 
 
 Accordingly, in full expectation of these distinguish- 
 ed guests, Luckie Macleary had swept her house for 
 the first time" this fortnight, 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 wash- 
 ed, propped its lame foot with a fragment of turf, ar- 
 ranged four or five stools of huge and clumsy form 
 upon the sites 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 Mac-v 
 leary's only apartment, thickly tapestried with cobwebs, 
 their hostess, who had already taken her cue from the 
 Laird of Balmawhapple, 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 {i. 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 5 but the confusion which appeared to prevail favoured 
 Edward's resolution to evade the gaily circling glass. 
 The rest began to talk thick, and at once, each perform- 
 ing his own part in the conversation, without the least 
 respect to his neighbour. The Baron of Bradwardine 
 sung French chansons-a-hoire, 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 Balma- 
 whapple, 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 si- 
 lence ; and when at length the instinct of polite disci- 
 pline so far prevailed that for a moment he obtained it, 
 he hastened to beseech their attention " unto a mihtary
 
 WAVERLET. 
 
 73 
 
 arietle, which was a particular favourite of the Mare- 
 chal Due de Berwick ;" then, imitating, as well as he 
 could, the manner and tone of a French musquetaire> 
 immediately commenced, — 
 
 Mon cceur volage, dit elle. 
 
 N'est pas pour vous garcon, 
 Est pour un homme de gtierre. 
 
 Qui a barbe au menton. 
 
 Lon. Lon, Laridoa. 
 
 Qui port cliapeau a plume, 
 
 Soulier a rouge talon. 
 Qui joue de la flute, 
 
 Aussi de violon. 
 
 Lon, Lon, Laridon. 
 
 Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with 
 
 what he called a d d good song, composed by Gib- 
 
 by 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 1 made. 
 To cuittle the moor-fowl's tail. 
 
 The Baron, whose voice was drowned in the louder 
 and, more obstreperous strains of Balmawhapple, now 
 dropped the competition, but continued to hum Lon, 
 Lon, Laridon, and to regard the successful candidate 
 for the attention of the company with an eye of disdaioj 
 while Balmawhapple proceeded, — 
 
 If up a bonny black-cock siiould 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 the first over again ; and, in prosecution 
 
 7 VOL. I. '^
 
 74 WAVERLEY. 
 
 of his triumph, declared there was " more sense in that 
 than in all the derry-do-ngs of France, and Fifeshire to 
 the boot of it." The Baron only answered with a long 
 pinch of sniifF, and a glance of infinite contempt. But 
 those noble allies, the Bear and the Hen, had emanci- 
 ifated the vouns; laird from the habitual reverence in 
 hich he held Bradwardine at other times. He pro- 
 nounced the claret shilpit, 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 
 iOte in the strange compound of sounds which it pro- 
 Juced. Inspired by her, the Laird of Balmawhapple, 
 now superior to the nods and winks with which the 
 Baron of Bradwardine, in dehcacy to Edv.ard, had 
 hitherto checked his entering upon political discussion, 
 demanded a bumper with the lungs of a Stentor, *' to 
 the little gentleman in black velvet who did such ser- 
 vice in 1702, and may the v/hite horse break his neck 
 over a mound of his making." 
 
 Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough 
 to remember that King William's fall, which occasioned 
 his death, was said to he owing to his horse, stumbling 
 at a mole-hill, yet felt inclined to take umbrage at a 
 'oast, which seemed, from the glance of Balmawhapple's 
 ye, to have a peculiar and uncivil reference to^the 
 government which he served. But ere he could inter- 
 fere, the Baron of Bradwardine had taken up the quar- 
 el. "Sir, whatever my sentiments, tanqiimn privaiuSy 
 aay be in such matters, I shall not tamely endure your 
 saying any thing that may impinge upon the honourable 
 feelings of a gentleman under my roof. Sir, if you 
 lave no respect for the laws of urbanity, do ye not re- 
 pect the military oath, the sacramentum miUtare, by 
 vhich every officer is bound to the standards under 
 A-hich he is' enrolled ? Look at Titus Livius, what he 
 .-ays of those Roman goldiers who were so unhappy as 
 exuere sacramentwn, — to i^nounce their legion?.ry outh ;
 
 WAVEIILEY. 75 
 
 but ye are ignorant, sir, alike of ancient history and mod- 
 ern courtesy." 
 
 " Not so ignorant as ye would pronounce me," roar- 
 ed Balmawhapple. " I ken weel that you mean tiie 
 Solemn League and Covenant ; but if a' the vvhigs in 
 hell had taken the " 
 
 Here the Baron and Waverley spoke both 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 Englishman ;" and Waverley, 
 at the same moment, entreating Mr. Bradwardine to pci- 
 mit him to reply to an affront which seemed levelled et 
 him personally. But the Baron was exalted by wine, 
 wrath, and scorn, above all sublunary considerations. 
 
 " 1 crave you to be hushed, Captain Waverley ; yon 
 are elsewhere, peradventure, sui juris, — foris-familiated, 
 that is, and entitled, it may be, to think and resent lor 
 yourself ; but in my domain, in this poor Barony of 
 Bradwardine, and under this roof, v/hich is quasi mine, 
 being held by tacit relocation by a tenant at will, I am t -i 
 loco parentis to you, and bound to see you scathlesi. — 
 And for you, Mr. Falconer, of Balmawhapple, I warii 
 ye let me see no more aberrations from the paths (^i 
 good manners." 
 
 " And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, of 
 Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan," retorted tlie sportsman, 
 in huge disdain, " that I'll make a moor-cock of ihe 
 man that refuses my toast, whether it be a crop-eared 
 English Whig wi' a black ribband at his lag, or ane v/lia 
 deserts his ain friends to claw favour wi' the rats of 
 Hanover." 
 
 In an instant both rapiers were brandished, and S0iXi« 
 desperate passes exchanged. Balraaw^happle was young- 
 stout, and active ; but the Baron, infinitely more master 
 of his weapon, would, hke 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 toJnterfere between the com- 
 batants, but the prostrate bulk of the Laird of Killan-
 
 76 AVAVERLEY. 
 
 cureit, over which he stumbled, intercepted his passage. 
 How Killancureit happened to be in this recumbent pos- 
 ture, at so interesting a moment, was never accurately 
 known. Some thought he was about to ensconce him- 
 self under the table ; he himself alleged that he stum- 
 bled 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 in- 
 terposed, there would certainly have been bloodshed. 
 But the well-known clash of swords, which was no great 
 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 lea-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 great 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, presbyterian, and fanatic in England and Scotland, 
 from John-o'-Groat's to the Land's End, and was with 
 difficulty 2;ot to horse. Our hero, with the assistance of 
 Saunders Saunderson, escorted the Baron of Bradwar- 
 dine to his own dwelling, but could not prevail upon him 
 to retire to bed until he had made a long and learned 
 apology for the events of the evening, of which, how- 
 ever, there was not a word intelligible, except something 
 about the Centaurs and the LapithaB.
 
 WAVERI.EY. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 Repentance, and a Reconciliation. 
 
 Waverley was unaccuslomed to the use of wine, 
 excepting with groat temperance. He slept therefore 
 soundly till late in the succeeding 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 moderate share of sense which 
 nature had allotted him ; true also in resenting this insuh, 
 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 respectably discharged the social 
 duties, and render his family miserable ; or he might 
 lose his own ; — no pleasant alternative even to the brav- 
 est, when it is debated coolly and in private. 
 
 All this pressed on his mind ; yet the original state- 
 ment recurred with the same irresistible force. He had 
 received a personal insult ; he was of the house of Wa- 
 verley ; and he bore a commission. There was no al- 
 ternative ; and he descended to the breakfast parloi .r 
 with the intention of taking leave of the family, ana 
 writing to one of his brother ofiicers to meet him at the 
 inn mid-way between Tully-Veolan and the town where 
 they v/ere quartered, in order that he might convey suc>i 
 a message to the Laird of Balmawhapple as the cireun~j- 
 stances seem.ed to demand. He found Miss Bradwardin*^ 
 presiding over the tea and coffee, the table loaded vnin 
 warm bread, both of flour and barley, in the shape of 
 loaves, cakes, biscuits, and other varieties, together with 
 eggs, reindeer ham, mutton aad beef ditto, smoked aai- 
 
 ^7* VOL. I.
 
 '<5 WAVERXEY. 
 
 mon, marmalade, and all the other delicacies which in- 
 duced even Johnson himself to extol the luxury of a 
 Scolcli 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 
 observed 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 and abstraction, which could not give Miss 
 Bradvvardine a favourable opinion of his talents for con- 
 versation. He answered at random one or two observa- 
 tions which she ventured to make upon ordinary topics ; 
 so that feeling herself almost repulsed in her efibrts at 
 entertaining him, and secretly wondering that a scarlet 
 coat should cover no belter breeding, she left him to his 
 mental amusement of cursing Dr. Doubleit's favourite 
 constellation of Ursa Major, as the cause of all the mis- 
 chief which had already happened, and was likely to en- 
 sue. At oitce he started, and his colour heightened, as, 
 looking toward the window, he beheld the Baron and 
 young Balmawhapple pass arm in arm, apparently in deep 
 (Conversation. " 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 mes- 
 sage from his master, requesting to speak with Captain 
 Waverley in another apartment. VVith a heart which 
 beat a little quicker, not indeed from fear, but from un- 
 certainty and anxiety, Edward obeyed the summons. 
 He found the two gentlemen standing together, an air of 
 complacent dignity on the brov/ of the Baron, while sonic- 
 thiug like sullenness 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 Wa- 
 verley, and, stopping in the midst of the apartment, made
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 79 
 
 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 punc- 
 tilios of the duello or raonomachia, ta be his interlocutor 
 in expressing to you the regref 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 gov- 
 ernment. He craves you, sir, to drown in oblivion the 
 memory of such solecisms against the laws of politeness, 
 as being what his better reason disavo^vs, 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, conld have extorted 
 such concessions ; for he and all his family are, and have 
 been, time out of mind, mavortia peciora, as Buchanan 
 saith, a bold and warlike sept, or people." 
 
 Edward immediately, and whh natural politeness, ac- 
 cepted the hand v.hich Balmawhapple, or rather the 
 Baron in his character of mediator, extended towards 
 him. ." It was impossible," he said, " for liim to remem- 
 ber what a gentleman expressed his wish he had not ot- 
 tered ; and he willingly imputed what had passed to the 
 exuberant festivity of the day." 
 
 "That is very handsomely said," answ^ered the Baron ; 
 " for undoubtedly, if a man be eorius, or intoxicated, 
 an incident which on solemm 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 viinim locutum est ; the words cease to be his 
 ovirn. Yet would I not find this exculpation jelevant in 
 the case of one who was ebriosus, or a habitual drunkard : 
 because, if such person choose to pass the greater part 
 of his time in the predicament of intoxication, he haih 
 no title to be exeemed from the obligations of the code
 
 80 WAVERLEY. 
 
 of politeness, but should learn to deport himself peace- 
 ably 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 circumstance, that Edward, after so satisfacto- 
 ry an explanation, did much greater honour to the deli- 
 cacies of Miss Bradwardine's breakfast-table than his 
 commencement had promised. Balmawhapple, on the 
 contrary, seemed embarrassed and dejected ; and Wa- 
 verley 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 mut- 
 tered, in answer, something about his horse having fallen ; 
 and, seeming desirous to escape both from the subject 
 and the company, he arose 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 gocd-natured and affection- 
 ate 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, tliat 1 am 
 by practice or precept an advocate of ebriety, thcugh it 
 may be that, in our fe.siivity of last night, some of ova- 
 friends, if not perchance altogether elrii, or drunken, 
 were, to say the least, ebrioli, by which the ancients de- 
 bigneid those who v^ere fuddled, or, as your English ver- 
 nacular 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 pot-.tion ; nor can it be truly said of myself, who,
 
 WAVERIEY. 81 
 
 having assisted at the tables of many great generals and 
 marechals at their solemn carousals, have the art to carry 
 my wine discreetly, and did not, during the whole even- 
 ing as ye must have doubtless observed, exceed the 
 bounds of a modest hilarity." 
 
 There was no refusing assent to a proposition so de- 
 cidedly laid down by him, who undoubtedly was the best 
 judge ; although, had Edward formed his opinion from 
 his own recollections, he would have pronounced that the 
 Baron was not only ebriolus, but verging to become 
 ebrius ; or, in plain English, w^as incomparably the most 
 drunk of the party, except perhaps his antagonist, the 
 Laird of Balraawhapple. However, having received the 
 expected, or rather the required, compliment on his so- 
 briety, the Baron proceeded — " No, sir, though I am 
 myself of a strong temperamegit, I abhor ebriety, and 
 detest those who swallow wine gula; causa, for the ob- 
 lectation of the gullet. Albeit I might deprecate the 
 law of Pittacus of ]\Iitylene, who punished doubly a 
 crime committed under the influence of Liber Pater ; 
 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 super- 
 abundance of his hospitahty ; and it may be easily be- 
 lieved that he was neither interrupted by dissent, or any 
 expression of incredulity. 
 
 He then invited his guest to a morning ride, and or- 
 dered that Davie Gellatley should meet them at the deni 
 paih with Ban and Buscar. " For until the shooting 
 season commence, I would wiUingly show you some sport ; 
 and we may, God willing, meet with a roe. The roe, 
 Captain Waverley, may be hunted at all times ahke ; 
 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
 
 82 WAVERLEY. 
 
 deer. But he will serve to show how my dogs run ; and 
 therefore they shall attend us with David GelJatley." 
 
 Waverley expressed his surprise that his friend Davie 
 was capable of such trust ; but the Baron gave him to 
 understand, that this 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 
 every other. " He has made an interest with us," con- 
 tinued 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 diink of our cup, and do 
 what he can, or what he will ; which if the suspicions of 
 . Saunderson and the Baillie are well founded, may per- 
 chance in his case be CQmmensurate terms." 
 
 Miss Bradwardine then gave Waverley to understand, 
 that this poor simpleton was doatingly fond of music, 
 deeply afiected by that which was melancholy, and trans- 
 ported into extravagant gaiety by light and lively airs. 
 He had in this respect a prodigious memory, stored with 
 miscellaneous snatches and fragments of all tunes and 
 songs, which he sometimes apphed, with considerable 
 address, as the vehicles of remonstrance, explanation, or 
 satire. Davie was much attached to the few who show- 
 ed him kindness ; and both aware of any slight or ill 
 usage which be happened to receive, and sufficiently apt, 
 where he saw opportunity, to revenge it. The common 
 people, who often judge hardly of each other, as well 
 as of their betters, although they bad expressed great 
 compassion for the poor innocent while suffered to wan- 
 der in rags about the village, no sooner beheld him de- 
 cently clothed, provided for, and even a sort of favourite, 
 than they called up all the instances of sharpness and 
 ingenuity, in action and repartee, which his annals afford- 
 ed, and charitably bottomed thereupon a hypothesis, that 
 David Gellatley was no farther fool than was necessary 
 to avoid hard labour. This opinion was not better found- 
 ed than that of the Nesroes, who, from the acute and
 
 AVAYERLEY. 83 
 
 mischievous pranks of the monkies, suppose that they 
 have the gift of speech, and only suppress their powers 
 of elocution to escape being set to work. David Gel- 
 latley was in good earnest the half-crazed simpleton 
 which he appeared, and was incapable of any constant 
 and steady exertion. He had just so much solidity as to 
 keep on the windy side of insanity ; so much wild wit 
 as saved him from the imputation of idiocy ; some dex- 
 terity in field-sports, (in wdiich we have known as great 
 fools excel ;) great kindness and humanity in the treat- 
 ment 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 sin2;in2; to the two lar2;e deer £^rev- 
 hounds. 
 
 Hie away, hie away, 
 Over bank and over brae, 
 Where the copse wood is the greenest, 
 Where the fountains glisten 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, 
 Over bank and over brae. 
 Hie away, hie away. 
 
 " Do the verses he sin2:s," asked Waverley, " belong 
 to old Scottish poetry. Miss Bradwardine r^ 
 
 " 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 ham- 
 let thought uncommon talents. An uncle contrived to 
 educate him for the Scottish kirk, but he could not get 
 preferment because he came from our ground. He re- 
 turned 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 com-
 
 84 WAVERLEY, 
 
 passionate to his brother, who followed him like his 
 shadow, and we think that from him Davie gathered 
 many fragments of songs and music unlike those of this 
 country. But if we ask him where 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 lamen- 
 tation ; but was never heard to give any explanation, or 
 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. Saun- 
 derson, had indued a pair of jack-boots of large dimen- 
 sion, and now invited our hero to follow him as he stalked 
 clattering down the ample stair-case tapping each huge 
 balustrade as he passed with the butt of his massive 
 horse-whip, and humming, with the air of a chasseur of 
 Louis Quatorze, 
 
 Pour la chasse ordonnee il faut preparer tout, 
 Ho la ho ! Vile ! vite debout. 
 
 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 demi-pique 
 saddle, with deep housings to agree with his livery, was 
 no bad representation of the old school. His light-col- 
 oured embroidered coat, and superbly barred waistcoat, 
 his brigadier wig, surmounted by a small gold-laced
 
 WAVERLEY. 85 
 
 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 very 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 Gellatley, though probably all and each had 
 hooted him on former occasions in the character of daft 
 Davie. But this is no uncommon strain of flattery to 
 persons in office, nor altogether confined to the bare- 
 legged villagers of Tully-Veolan ; it was in fashion Si^ty 
 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 ivet-foois, as they were called, were des- 
 tined 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 mag- 
 nanimously flaying and disembowelling the slain animal, 
 (which, he observed, was called by the French chasseurs, 
 faire la curie) with his ov/n baronial couteau de chasse. 
 After this ceremony, he conducted his guest homeward 
 by a pleasant and circuitous route, commanding an ex- 
 tensive prospect of different villages and houses, to each 
 of which Mr. Bradv/ardine 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 narratives 
 displayed, and almost always curious, if not valuable, 
 for the information they contained. 
 
 The truth is, the ride seemed agreeable to both gen- 
 tlemen, because they found amusement in each other's 
 
 8 VOL. I.
 
 86 
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 conversation, although their characters and habits of 
 thinking were in many respects totally opposite. Ed- 
 ward, we have informed the reader, was warm iii his 
 feelings, wild and romantic in his ideas and in his taste 
 of reading, with a strong disposition towards poetry. 
 Mr. Bradvvardine 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 terrace of Tully-Veolan, where for 
 hours together — the very model of old Hardyknute — 
 
 Stately stepp'd hf; 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 Ar- 
 thur Johnstone's Psalms, of a Sunday ; and the Deliciae 
 Poetarum, and Sir David Lindsay's Works, and Bar- 
 bour's Bruce, and Blind Harry's Wallace, and the Gen- 
 tle Shepherd, and the Cherry and the Slae. But though 
 i\e thus far sacrificed his time to the muses, he would, if 
 the truth must be spoken, hav^e been much better pleased 
 had the pious or sapient apothegms, as well as the his- 
 torical 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 toto ccelo, as the 
 Baron would have said, upon this subject, yet they met 
 upon history as on a neutral ground, in which each claim- 
 ed an interest. The Baron, indeed, only cumbered his 
 memory with matters of fact : the cold, dry, hard out- 
 lines which history delineates. Edward, on the contrary, 
 loved to fill up and round the sketch with the colouring 
 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 amusement. Mr. Bradwardine's minute
 
 WAVE RLE T. S7 
 
 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 commu- 
 nicated, 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 lur. Brad- 
 wardine, as confirming or illustrating his own favourite 
 anecdotes. Besides, Mr. Bradwardine loved to talk of 
 the scenes of his youth, which had been spent in camps 
 and foreign lands, and had many interesting particulars 
 to tell of the generals under whom he had served, and 
 the actions he had w^itnessed. 
 
 Both parties returned to Tully-Veolan 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) bona spei et magna, indolis, a youth de- 
 void of that petulant volatihty, 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 hfe. There was no other guest except 
 Mr. Kubrick, 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 
 Etage. Waverley w^as accordingly conducted through 
 one or two of those long awkward passages with which 
 ancient architects studied to puzzle the inhabitants of the 
 houses which they planned, at the end of which Mr. 
 Bradwardine began to ascend, by two steps at once, a 
 very steep, narrow, and winding stair, leaving Mr. Ku- 
 brick and Waverley to follow at more leisure, while he 
 should announce their approach to his daughter.
 
 88 W AVE RLE T. 
 
 After having climbed this perpendicular corkscrew 
 until their brains were almost giddy, they arrived in a 
 little matted lobby, which served as an anti-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 moth- 
 er's, (a daughter of the Laird of Tulliellum, Captain 
 Waverley ; I indicated the house to you when we were 
 on the top of the Shinny-heuch ; it was burnt by the 
 Dutch auxiliaries brought in by the government in 1715 ;) 
 I never sate for my pourtraicture but once since that w^as 
 painted, and it was at the special and reiterated request 
 of the Marechal Duke of Berwick." 
 
 The good old gentleman did not mention, what Mr. 
 Rubrick afterwards 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 memora- 
 ble campaign of 1709, and having there defended him- 
 self with his half-pike for nearly ten minutes before any 
 support reached him. To do the Baron justice, although 
 sufficiently prone to exaggerate his family dignity and 
 consequence, he was too much a man of real courage 
 ever to dwell upon such personal acts of merit as he had 
 himself manifested. 
 
 Miss Rose now appeared from the interior room of 
 her apartment, to welcome her father and his friends. 
 The little labours in which she had been employed ob- 
 viously showed a natural taste, which required only cul-
 
 WAVERLEY. 89 
 
 tivation. Her father Had taught her French and Itahan, 
 and a few of the ordinary authors in those languages 
 ornainented her shelves. He had endeavoured also to 
 be her preceptor in music : but as he began with the 
 more abstruse doctrines of the science, and was not per- 
 haps 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 whh a respect to the 
 sense of what she uttered that might be proposed in ex- 
 ample 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 very often divorced by the performer in a most 
 shameful manner. It was perhaps owing to this sensi- 
 bility to poetry, and power of conibining 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, u.n- 
 guided by the same delicacy of feeling. 
 
 A bartizan, or projecting gallery, before the windov/s 
 of her parlour, served to illustrate another of Rose':- 
 pursuits, for it was crowded with flowers of difiererit 
 kinds, which she had taken under her special protection. 
 A projecting turret gave access to this Gotriic balcony, 
 which commanded a most beautiful prospect. The for- 
 mal garden, with its high bounding wails, lay below, con- 
 tracted, as it seemed, to a mere parterre ; while tlit 
 view extended beyond them down a wooded glen, wher^. 
 the small river was sometimes visible, sometimes hidden 
 in copse. The eye might be delayed by a desire to re?t 
 on the rocks, which here and there rose from the deJ^ 
 with massive or spiry fronts, or it might dwell on the no- 
 ble, though ruined tower, which was here beheld in all 
 its dignity, frowning from a promontory over the river. 
 To the left were seen two or three cottages, a part of the 
 
 8* VOL. I,
 
 90 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 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 itself, 
 and which now ghstened in the western sun. The dis- 
 tant 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 Brad- 
 wardine 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 pro- 
 jecting 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. Ku- 
 brick mentioned some curious particulars, which remind- 
 ed Waverley of a rhyme quoted by Edgar in King Lear ; 
 and Rose was called upon to sing a little legend, in which 
 ihey had been interwoven by some village poet, 
 
 Who, noteless os 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 those advantages ; although I conjecture the ibllowin'g 
 copy to have been somewhat corrected by Waverley, to 
 suit the taste of those who might not relish pure antiquity. 
 
 On Kailow-3Iass E^e, ero ye boune ye to rest, 
 Ever beware that your couch be bless'd ; 
 Sign it with cross, and sain it with bead 
 Sing the Ave, and say the Creed. 
 
 For on HalKiw-Mnss Eve the Night-Ting wij] ride. 
 And all her nine-foid svveeping on t^7 her siiie,
 
 WAVERLEY. 91 
 
 Whether the wind sing lowl}' or loud, 
 
 Sailing through moonshine or swath'd in the cloud. 
 
 The Lady she sate 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 St. 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 plight. 
 
 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 there are none of his weal or woe, 
 And fain tlie 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 stonn, 
 When the cold grey mist brought the ghastly form ! 
 
 '• I am sorry to disappoint the company, especially 
 Captain Waverley, who listens with such laudable grav- 
 ity ; 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 groun- 
 <.i)I ledge.' " 
 
 " It is one of those figments," observed Mr. Bradwar- 
 dine, " 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 prod-
 
 92 WAVERLET. 
 
 igies, sir, the which you may read in ancient histories, 
 or in the little work compiled by Julius Obseqwens, and 
 inscribed by the learned SchefFer, the editor, to his pa- 
 tron, Benedictus 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 route, by a sudden apparition of the foul fiend." 
 
 Waverley looked as if desirous to hear more. 
 
 *' Must 1 tell my story as well as sing my song ? — 
 Well — Once upon a time there lived an old woman, call- 
 ed 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 j)oet, 
 and the other a fool, which visitation, all the neighbour- 
 hood agreed, had come upon her for the sin of witch- 
 craft. And she was imprisoned for a week in the steeple 
 of the parish church, and sparely 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 brough* forth to 
 make a clean breast, that is, to make open confession of 
 her sorceries before all the whig gentry and ministers iu 
 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 httle honour on Apollyon's taste, — and 
 while the auditors listened with astonished ears, and the 
 clerk recorded with a trembling hand, she, ah of a sud- 
 den, changed the low mumblins; tone with which she 
 spoke, into a shrill yell, and exclaimed, ' Look to your- 
 selves ! look to yourselves ! I see the Evil One silting 
 in the midst of ye.' The surprise was general, and 
 terror and flight its immediate consequences. Happ) 
 were those who were next the door ; and many were 
 the disasters that befellhats, bands, cuffs, and wigs, before
 
 WAVERLEY. 93 
 
 they could get out of the church, where they left the ob- 
 stinate prelatist to settle matters with the witch and her 
 admirer, at his own peril or pleasure.". 
 
 " Risii solvuntur tabulce,^^ 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 phantasies, 
 Devices, dreams, opinions unsound, 
 Shows, visions, sootlisays, 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 i-n 
 the house of TuUy-Veolan. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A Discovery — Waverley becomes domesticated at Tully- 
 Veolan. 
 
 The next day Edward arose betimes, and in a morn- 
 ing 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 had 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 mernj the little bird sing ? 
 Old men's love the longest will last, 
 
 And the th-ostk-cock's head is under his wing.
 
 94 WAVERLEY. 
 
 The young man's wrath is like liglit straw on fire . 
 
 Heard ye so merry the little bird sing ? 
 But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire, 
 
 Ami the throstle-cock's head is under his iving. 
 
 The young man will brawl at the evening board ; 
 
 Heard ye so merry the little bird sing ? 
 But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword, 
 
 And the throstle-cock's head is wider 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 que- 
 ries, to elicit from him what the inuendo might mean ; 
 but Davie had no mind to explain, and had wit enough 
 to make his folly cloak his knavery. Edward could col- 
 lect nothing from him, excepting that the Laird of Bal- 
 mawhapple had gone home yesterday morning, " wd' 
 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 hne with Sumack and 
 Co. of Newcastle, he sometimes wrought a turn in the 
 flower-borders to oblige the Lafrd and Miss Rose. By 
 a series of queries, Edward at length discovered, wtth a 
 painful feeling of surprise and shame, that Balmawhap- 
 ple's submission and apology had been the consequence 
 of a rencontre with the Baron before he had quitted his 
 pillow, in which the younger combatant had been dis- 
 armed and wounded in tbe sword arm. 
 
 Greatly mortified at this information, Edward sought 
 out his friendly host, and anxiously expostulated with 
 him upon the injustice he had done him in antici- 
 pating 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 repre- 
 sented 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
 
 WAVERLEY. 95 
 
 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, VVaverley 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 in Archibald Simpson pastor of Dalkeith's 
 Hieroglyphica AnimaJium,) and had thus been the type 
 of many quarrels and dissensions which had occurred 
 in the house of Bradwardine ; of which," he continu- 
 ed, "I might commemorate mine own unfortunate dis- 
 sension with rny third cousin by the mother's side. Sir 
 Hew Halbert, who was so unthhiking as to deride my 
 family name, as if it had been quasi Bear-Warden ; a 
 most uncivil jest, since it not only insinuated that the 
 founder of our house occupied such a mean situation a? 
 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 hy ys^iy o^ par anomasia, or pun, upon 
 our family appellation, — a sort of bearing which the 
 French call armoires parlantes ; the Latins, arma can- 
 tantia ; and your English authorities, canting heraldr}" ; 
 being indeed a species of emblazoning more befitting 
 canters, gaberlunzies, and such like mendicants, w^hose 
 gibberish is formed upon playing on 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.
 
 yO AVAVERXEY. 
 
 Having been so minute with respect to the diversions 
 of Tully-Veolan, on the first days of Edward's arrival, 
 for the purpose of introducing its inmates to the read- 
 er'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 asserter of the "boast of heraldry" as the 
 Baron ; but Edward found an agreeable variety in that 
 of Miss Bradwardine, who Hstened with eagerness to 
 his remarks upon hterature, and showed great justness 
 of taste in her answers. The sweetness of her disposi- 
 tion had made her submit with complacency, and even 
 pleasure, 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 con- 
 tented 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 fath- 
 er's eye. Her constant hvehness, her attention to all 
 those httle observances most gratifying 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 dispo- 
 sition, would have justified the affection of the most 
 doating father. 
 
 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 la- 
 bouring, namely, to estabhsh 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 Baillie Mac- 
 wheeble, to admit of any great expectations from his 
 personal succession. It is true, the said Baillie loved
 
 AVAVERLEY. 
 
 97 
 
 his patron and his patron's daughter next (though at an 
 incomparable distance) to himseL^. 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 bus- 
 iness. But the Baron would not listen to such a propo- 
 sal for an instant. On the contrary, he used to have a 
 perverse pleasure in boasting that the barony of Brad- 
 wardine was a male fief, the first charter having been 
 given at that early period when women were not deem- 
 ed capable to hold a feudal grant ; because, according 
 to Les coustusmes de JYorinandie c'est Vhomme 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 ac- 
 count 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 eocuendi, seu detrahendi, caligas regis post hat- 
 taliam ? that is, in pulling off the king's boots after an 
 engagement, which was the feudal service by which he 
 held the barony of Bradwardine. "No," he said, "be- 
 yond hesitation, procul dubio, many females, as worthy 
 as Rose, bad been excluded, in order to make way for 
 my own succession, and Heaven forbid that 1 should do 
 aught that might contravene the destination of my fore- 
 fathers, or impinge upon the right of my kinsman, Mal- 
 colm Bradwardine of Inchgrabbit, an honourable, though 
 decayed branch of my own family." 
 
 The Baillie, as prime minister, having received this 
 decisive com nunication from his sovereign, durst not 
 press his own opinion any farther, but contented himself 
 with deploring, on all suitable occasions, to Saunderson, 
 
 9 VOL. I.
 
 vs 
 
 WAVERLET. 
 
 the minister of the interior, the laird's self-willedness, 
 and with laving plans for uniting Rose with the young 
 Laird of Balmawhapple, .who had a fine estate, only 
 moderately burthened, and was a faultless young gentle- 
 man, being as sober as a saint — if you kept brandy from 
 Iiim, and him from brandy — and who, in brief, had no 
 miperfection but that of keeping light company at a 
 time ; such as Jinker, the horse-couper, and Gibby Gae- 
 throwi't, the piper o' Cupar ; " o' whilk folhes, Mr. 
 Saunderson, he'll mend, he'll mend," — pronounced the 
 '^^'aillie. 
 
 " Like sour ale in simmer," added Davie Gellatley, 
 who happened to be nearer the conclave, than they were 
 aware of. 
 
 Miss Bradwardine, such as we have described her, 
 With all the simphcity and curiosity of a recluse, at- 
 tached herself to the opportunities 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 thern 
 with one of a kindred taste. Edward's readiness to 
 comment, to recite, to explain difficult passages, ren- 
 dered his assistance invaluable ; and the wild romance 
 of his spirit delighted a character too young and inex- 
 perienced to observe its deficiencies. Upon subjects 
 which interested him, and when quite at ease, he pos- 
 sessed that ik>w of natural, and somewhat florid elo- 
 ()ucnce, which has been supposed as powerful as figure, 
 fasliion, fame, or fortune, in winning the female heart. 
 There was, therefore, an increasing danger in this con- 
 stant intercourse, to ])oor Rose's peace of mind, vvliich 
 v,'as the more imminent, as her father was greatly too
 
 AVAVEBLEY. 99 
 
 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 Bradwardine were, in 
 liis opinion, like those of the house of Bourbon or Aus- 
 tria, placed high above the clouds of passion which 
 might obfuscate the intellects of meaner females ; they 
 moved in another sphere, were governed by other feel- 
 ings, and amenable to other rules, than those of idle and 
 lantastic affection. In short, he .shut his eyes so reso- 
 lutely to the natural consequences of Edward's intima- 
 cy with INIiss Bradwardine, that the whole neighboui- 
 liood concluded that he had opened them to the advan- 
 tages 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 ^vas concerned. 
 
 If the Baron, however, had really meditated such an 
 aUiance, 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 Saint 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 describ- 
 ed her, had not precisely the sort of beauty or merit 
 which captivates a romantic imagination in early youth. 
 She w^as too frank, too confiding, too kind ; a-miable 
 qualities, undoubtedly, but destructive of the marvel- 
 lous, with which a youth of imagination delights 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 
 speir a very — very long word in her version of it ? All 
 these incidents have their fascination on the mind at a 
 certain period of life, but not when a youth is entering 
 it, and rather looking out for some object whose affec- 
 tion may dignify him in his own eyes, than stooping to
 
 100 
 
 WAVERLliY. 
 
 cue \\ho looks up to him for such distinction. — HencCj 
 though there can be no rule in so capricious a passion, 
 Ccirly love is frequently ambitious in choosing its object ; 
 or, which comes to the same, selects her (as in the case 
 of Saint Ceciha 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 impair. I 
 kne\T 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 permit- 
 ted to bear her company for a whole afternoon. Thus, 
 it is certain, that had Edward enjoyed such an opportu- 
 nity of conversing with Miss Stubbs, Aunt Rachael's 
 precaution would liave been unnecessary, for he v.ould 
 us soon have fallen in love with the dairy-maid. And 
 although Miss Bradwardine v/as a very different charac- 
 ter, it seems probable that the very intimacy of their 
 intercourse prevented his feeling for her other sentiments 
 than those of a brother for an amiable and accomplish- 
 ed sister ; while the sentiments of poor Rose were grad- 
 ually, and without her being conscious, assuming a shade 
 of warmer affection. 
 
 I ought to have mentioned that Edward had applied 
 for, and received permission, extending his leave of ab- 
 sence. But the letter of his commanding-ofScer con- 
 tained 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 ac- 
 knowledge by taking the oath of allegiance. The let- 
 ter further insinuated, though with great delicacy, that 
 although some family connexions might be supposed to 
 render it necessary, ibr Captain Waverley to communi- 
 cate with gentlemen w^ho were in this unpleasant state • 
 of suspicion, yet his father's situation and wishes ought 
 to prevent his prolonging those attentions into ei^clusive 
 intimacy. And it was intimated, that while his politi- 
 cal principles were endangered by communicating with 
 laymen of this description, he might also receive erro-
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 lOi 
 
 neous impressions in religion from the prelatic clergy, 
 who so perversely laboured to set up the royal prerog- 
 ative in things sacred. 
 
 This last insinuation probably induced Waverley to 
 set both down to the prejudices of his commanding- 
 officer. He wa's sensible 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 risque of his being perverted from his 
 Eilegiance, 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 therefoj'e 
 wrote a very general answer, assuring his commandine- 
 officer that his loyalty was not in the most distant dan- 
 ger of contamination, and continued an honoured guest 
 and inmate of the house of Tullv-Veolan. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A Creagh and its Consequences. 
 
 When Edward had been a guest at Tully-Veojan 
 nearly six weeks, he descyed one morning, as he took 
 his usual walk before the breakfast hour, signs of un- 
 common perturbation in the family. Four bare-legged 
 dairy-maids, with each an empty milk-pL'l in her hand, 
 ran about with frantic gestures, and uttering loud ex- 
 clamations of surprise, grief and resentment. From 
 their appearance, a pagan might have conceived them a 
 
 9* VCL. I.
 
 102 WAVERIEY. 
 
 detachment of the celebrated Behdes, just come from 
 their baleing 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 Baillie Mac- 
 wheeble cantering his white pony 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 Baillie, 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 Gel- 
 latley 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 frisk- 
 ins;, hopping, dancing, and singing the burden of an old 
 ballad,— 
 
 '' Our gear's a' g-ane," 
 
 until, happening to pass too near the Bailhe, he received 
 an admonitory hint from his horsewhip, which convert- 
 ed his songs into lamentation. 
 
 Passing from thence towards the garden, Waverley 
 beheld the Baron in person, measuring and re-measur- 
 ing, with swift and tremendous strides, the length of the 
 terrace ; his countenance clouded with oiFended 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 addressing him, and took his way to the break- 
 fast parlour, where he found his young friend Rose, 
 who, though she neither exhibited the resentment of her 
 father, the turbid importance of Baillie Macwheebl^, nor
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 103 
 
 the despair of the handmaidens, seemed vexed and 
 thoughtful. A single word explained the mystery, 
 " Your breakfast will be a disturbed one, Captain Waver- 
 ley. A party of Caterans have come down upon us 
 last night, and 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 happened. It is not the 
 value of the cattle, Captain Waverley, that vexes me ; 
 but my father is so much hurt at the affront, and so bold 
 and hot, that I fear he will try to recover them by the 
 strong hand ; and then, if he is not hurt himself, he will 
 hurt some of these wild people, and there will be no 
 peace between them and us perhaps for our lifetime ; 
 and we cannot defend ourselves as in old times, for -the 
 government have taken all our arms ; and ray dear 
 
 father is so rash— -O what will 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 yeo- 
 man ! — Captain Waverley, I must request your favour- 
 able construction of her grief, which may, or ought to 
 proceed solely from seeing her father's estate exposed 
 to spulzie and depredation from common thieves and 
 sorners, while w^e are not allowed to keep half a score 
 of muskets, whether for defence or rescue." 
 
 Baillie Macwheeble entered immediately afterwards, 
 and by his report of arms and ammunition, confirmed 
 this statement, informing the Baron, in a melancholy 
 voice, that though the people v/ould certainly obey his 
 honour's orders, yet there was no chance of their fol-
 
 104 WAVERLET. 
 
 lowing the gear to ony gude purpose, in respect there 
 were only his honour's body servants, who had swords 
 and pistols, and the depredators were twelve Highland- 
 ers, completely armed after the manner of their coun- 
 try. — Having delivered this doleful annunciation, he as- 
 sumed 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 stoop- 
 ing at a more acute angle than usual, and the latter part 
 of his person projected in proportion. 
 
 The Baron, meanwhile, paced the room in silent in- 
 dignation, and at length fixing his eye upon an old por- 
 trait, whose person was clad in armour, and whose fea- 
 tures 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, etpeira scandali, a stumbling-block and 
 a rock of offence to the Lowland vicinage — he discom- 
 fited them, 1 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 tv.o. 
 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 inconsistent counsel. Alexander ab Alex- 
 andro, proposed they should send some one to compound 
 with the Caterans, v.ho would readily, he said, give up 
 their prey for a dollar a-head. The Baillie opined that 
 this transaction would amount to theft-boot, or compo- 
 sition 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 parly
 
 WAVERLEY. 105 
 
 of soldiers and a magistrate's warrant ; and Rose, as fiir 
 as she dared, endeavoured to insinuate the course of 
 paying the arrears of tribute money to Fergus Mac- 
 Ivor Vich Ian Volu', who, they all knew, could earsily 
 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 absolute- 
 ly ignommious ; that of Waverley only showed that he 
 did not undei'stand 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 his clan had stolen since the^ days of Mal- 
 colm Can more." 
 
 In fact, his voice was still for w^ar, and he proposed 
 to send expresses to Balmawhapple, Killancureit, Tulli- 
 ellum, and other lairds, who were exposed to similar 
 depredations, inviting them to join in the pursuit ; " and 
 then, sir, shall these nehulones nequissimi, as Leslaeus 
 calls them, be brought to the fate of their predecessor 
 Cacus, 
 
 Elisos oculos, el siccum sanguine gutter." 
 
 The Baillie, w4io by no means relished these v.-arlike 
 councils, 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 Ballybrough soon 
 after sunrise ; so that before the allied forces could as- 
 semble, they and their prey would be far beyond the 
 reach of the most active pursuit, and sheltered in those 
 pathless deserts, where it was nehher advisable to fol- 
 low, nor indeed possible to trace them. 
 
 This proposition was undeniable. The council there- 
 fore broke up without coming to any conclusion, as has 
 occurred to councils of more importance ; only it was 
 determined that the Baillie should send his own three
 
 106 WAVERXEY. 
 
 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 
 Satinderson, the Baillie readily assented, both from ha- 
 bitual deference to the family, and an internal conscious- 
 ness that his courtesy would, in some mode or other, be 
 repaid tenfold. 
 
 The Baron having also retired to give some necessary 
 directions, Waverley seized the opportunity to ask, 
 whether this Fergus, with the unpronounceable name, 
 were 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 High- 
 land clan, and is much respected, both for his own pow- 
 er, and that of his kith, kin, and allies." 
 
 " And what has he to do with the thieves then ? Is 
 he a magistrate, or in the commission of the peace ?" 
 asked Waverley. 
 
 <' The commission of vrar 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 con- 
 nection vvith 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 gen- 
 tlemen 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 Hi2:hland Jonathan Wild admit- 
 ted into society, and called a gentleman ?" 
 
 " So much so," said Rose, " that the quarrel be- 
 tween ray father and Fergus Mac-Ivor began at a coun-
 
 AVAVERIET. 107 
 
 ty 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 Baillie 
 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 father's. — 0,1 
 wish, I wish they had continued friends !" 
 
 " And did you ever see this Mr. Mac-Ivor, if that be 
 ]iis name, Miss Bradwardine r^ 
 
 " No, that is not his name ; and he would consider 
 'master, as a sort of affront, only that you are an Eng- 
 lishman, and know no better. But the Lowlanders call 
 him, hke 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 pohte, handsome man," continued 
 Rose ; '• and his sister Flora is one of the most beau- 
 tiful and accomplished young ladies in this country ; she 
 v,'as bred in a convent in France, and was a great friend 
 oi^ mine before this unhappy dispute. Dear Captaia 
 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 whh 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 morn-
 
 1 08 AVAVERLE Y. 
 
 ing, their wives and daughters came, clapping their hands, 
 and crying the coronach and shrieking, and carried away 
 the dead bodies, with tlie pipes playing before them. 
 I could not sleep for six wrecks 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 warrant 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 witness- 
 ed with her ovv^n eyes such a scene as he had used to 
 conjure up in his imagination, as only occuring in ancient 
 limes. 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 adven- 
 tures, 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 ex- 
 traordinary. He had indeed often heard of Highland 
 thieves, but had no idea of the systematic mode in 
 which their depredations were conducted ; and that the 
 practice w^as connived at, and even encouraged, by 
 many of the Highland chieftains, who not only found 
 the creaghs, or forays, useful for the purpose of train- 
 ing individuals of their clan to the practice of arms, 
 but also of maintaining a wholesome terror among their 
 Lowland neipjibours, and levying, as we have seen, a 
 tribute from them, under colour of protection-money. 
 
 Baiiiie Macwheeble, who soon afterv/ards entered, ex- 
 patiated still more at length upon the same topic. This 
 honest gentleman's conversation was so formed upon his
 
 WAVERLEY. 109 
 
 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 countr -^ 
 when they not only introraitted with their whole goods 
 and gear, corn, cattle, horse, nolt, sheep, outsight and 
 insight plenishing, at their wicked pleasure, but more- 
 over made prisoners, ransomed them, or concussed 
 them into giving borrows (pledges,) to enter into cap- 
 tivity again : All 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 fol- 
 low thereupon, were shamefully broken and villipended 
 by the said sorners, limmers, and broken men, associa- 
 ted into fellowships for the aforesaid purposes of theft, 
 stouthreef, fire-raising, murther, raptus muUerum, or for- 
 cible abduction of women, and such hke as aforesaid. 
 
 It seemed like a dream to Waverley that these deeds 
 of violence should be famihar to men's minds, and cur- 
 rently talked of, as falling within the common order of 
 things, and happening daily in the immediate neighbour- 
 hood, without his having crossed the seas, and while he 
 was yet in the otherwise well-ordered island of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 10 VOL. I.
 
 110 WAVERLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 An unexpected Ally appears. 
 
 The Baron returned at the dinner hour, and had in a 
 great measure recovered his composure and good hu- 
 mour. He not only confirmed the stories which Edward 
 had heard from Rose and BailJie Macwheeble, but ad- 
 ded many anecdotes from his own experience, concern- 
 ing the state of the Highlands and their inhabitants. 
 The chiefs, he pronounced to be, in general, gentlemen 
 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 ihe'ir pros- 
 apia, a lineage, which rested for the most part on the 
 vain and fond rhimes of their Seannachies or Bhairds, 
 as gequiponderate with the evidence of ancient charters 
 and royal grants of antiquity, conferred upon distinguish- 
 ed houses in the low country by divers Scottish mon- 
 archs ; nevertheless, such was their cuirecuidance and 
 presumption, as to undervalue those who possessed such 
 evidents, as if they held their Ifmds 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 concern- 
 ing 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 witli 
 safety an excursion into the neighbouring Highlands, 
 whose dusky barrier of mountains had already excited 
 his wish to penetrate beyond them. The Baron assured 
 his guest that nothing would be more easy, providing 
 this quarrel were first made up, since he could himseii 
 g:v3 liim letters to many of the distinguished chiefs, v.ho
 
 W A YE RLE Y 
 
 111 
 
 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 High- 
 lander, fully armed and equipped, entered the apart- 
 ment. Had it not been that Saunders acted the part 
 of master of the ceremonies to this martial apparition, 
 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 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 hmbs ; 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 Duinhe- 
 Wassel, or sort of gentleman ; a broad-sword dangled 
 by his side, a target hung upon his shoulder, and a long 
 Spanish fowhng-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 an air of dig- 
 nity, without rising, and much, as Edward thought, in 
 the manner of a prince receiving an embassy, " Wel- 
 come, Evan Dhu Maccombich ; what news from Fergus 
 Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr ?" 
 
 " Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr," said the ambas- 
 sador, in good Enghsh, " greets you well. Baron of 
 Bradwardine and TuUy-Veolan, and is sorry there has 
 been a thick cloud interposed betwixt 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 ; and 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
 
 112 
 
 AVAVERLEY. 
 
 .xouse of Bradvvardine, when there was an egg between 
 them for a flint, and a knife for a sword. And he ex- 
 pects you will also say, you are sorry for the cloud, 
 and no man shall hereafter ask whether it descended 
 irom the hill to the valley, or rose from the valley to the 
 hill ; 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 King, and he was sorry there 
 should have been a cloud between him and any gentle- 
 man of such sound principles, " for when folks are band- 
 ing together, feeble is he who hath no brother." 
 
 This appearing perfectly satisfactory, that the peace 
 between these august persons might be duly solemniz- 
 ed, the Baron ordered a stoup of usquebaugh, and, fill- 
 ing a glass, drank to the health and prosperity of Mac- 
 Ivor of Glennaquoich ; upon which the Celtic ambas- 
 sador, to requite his politeness, turned down a mighty 
 bumper of the same generous liquor, seasoned with his 
 good vrishes 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 appai-ently the Baillie found means to satisfy their 
 ally, without suffering his master to suppose that his dig- 
 nity was compromised. At least, it is certain, that after 
 the plenipotentiaries had drank a bottle of brandy in 
 single drams, w^hich 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 infor- 
 mation 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 pronoun- 
 ced to be '*no that far off; — they have broken the
 
 WAVE RLE T. Ho 
 
 bone," he observed, " 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 collecting information, and the precise 
 and pointed conclusions which he drew from it. Evan 
 Dhu, on his part, was obviously flattered with the at- 
 tention 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 accompany 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 precaution 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 v/as 
 a little fatigue ; and as Evan proposed he should pass a 
 day at his chieftain's house in returning, where he would 
 be sure of good accommodation and an excellent wel- 
 come, there seemed nothing very formidable in the task 
 he undertook. Rose, indeed, turned pale when sh 
 heard of it : but her father, who loved the spirited c.:- 
 riosity of his young friend, did not attempt to danip it 
 by an alarm of danger which really did not exist ; and a 
 knaj^ack, with a few necessaries, being bound en tbe 
 shoulders of a sort of deputy gamekeeper, our hero sct 
 forth v/ith a fowhng-piece in his hand, accompanied by 
 his new friend Evan Dhu, and follo-ved by die game- 
 keeper aforesaid, and by two wild Highlanders, the at- 
 tendants 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-s:un. Evan, upon Ed- 
 
 10* VOL. I.
 
 114 WAVERLEY. 
 
 ward's inquiry, gave him to understand, that this martial 
 escort was by no means necessary as a guard, but mere- 
 ly, as he said, drawing up and adjusting liis plaid with 
 an air of dignity, that he might appear decently at Tully- 
 V'eolan, and as Vich Ian Vohr's foster-brother ought 
 to do. " Ah !" said he, " if you Saxon Duinhe-wassal 
 (Enghsh gentleman) saw but the chief himself with his 
 tail on !" 
 
 " With his tail on f " echoed Edward in some sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " 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 hanchman, or right-hand man ; 
 then his hard, or poet ; then his hladier, or orator, to 
 make harangues to the great folks whom he visits ; then 
 his gilly-inore, or armour-bearer, to carry his sword, 
 and target, and his gun ; then his giUy-casfliuch, who 
 carries him on his back through the sikes and brooks ; 
 then his gilly-comstrian, to lead his horse by the bridle 
 in steep and difficult paths ; then his gilly'trusJiarnish, 
 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 f" demanded VVaverley. 
 
 " 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 Glennaquoich." 
 
 With similar tales of the grandeur of the chief in 
 peace and war, Evan Dhu beguiled the way till they 
 npproached more closely those huge mountains which 
 Edward had hitherto only seen at a distance. It was 
 towards evening asthty entered one of those tremendous 
 passes which afford communication between the high 
 and k>w country ; tl-;e path, which was extremely steep 
 and rugged, winded rip a chasm between two tremen*
 
 AVAVERLEY. 115 
 
 dous 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 preci- 
 pice, with here and there a projecting fragment of gran- 
 ite, 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 in- 
 accessibihty ; but the hill on the opposite side displayed 
 a shroud of copsewood, with which some pines were in- 
 termingled. 
 
 " This," said Evan, " is the pass of Bally-Brough, 
 which was kept in former times by ten of the clan 
 Donnochie against a hundred 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 burn — 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 from the 
 lodgings which they had just taken up for the evening, 
 rose at the report of the gun, and mingled their hoarse 
 and discordant 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.
 
 116 AVAVERLEY. 
 
 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 occa- 
 sions 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 ac- 
 commodation, and obviously rose in his guide's opinion, 
 by showing that he did not fear welting his feet. In- 
 deed he was anxious, so far as he could without affec- 
 tation, to remove the opinion which Evan seemed to 
 entertain of the effeminacy of the Lowlanders, and par- 
 ticularly 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 whh 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 walk- 
 ed, half waded, was rough, broken, and in many places 
 quaggy and unsound. Sometimes the ground was so 
 completely unsafe, tliat it was necessary to spring from 
 one hillock to another, the space between being incapa- 
 ble of bearing the human weight. This was an easy 
 matter to the Highlanders, who wore thin-soled brogues 
 lit for the purpose, and moved with a peculiar springing 
 step ; but Edward began to find the exercise, to which 
 he was unaccustomed, more fatiguir>g tliarl^he expecter!. 
 The lingering twilight served to shew them through this 
 Serbonian bog, but deserted them almost totally at the 
 bottom of a steep and very stony hill, ^vhich it was the 
 travellers' next toilsome task to ascend. The night, 
 however, was pleasant, and not dark ; and Wavcrley, 
 calling up mental energy to support personal, fatigue, 
 held on his march gallantly, though envying in his iicart 
 his Highland attendants, who continued, without a symp- 
 tom of abated vigour, the rapid and swinging pace, or 
 rather trot, which, according to his computation, had al- 
 ready brouglit them fifteen miles upon their journey.
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 117 
 
 After crossing this mountain, and descending on the 
 other side towards a thick wood, Evan Dhu held sonie 
 conference with his Highland attendants, in consequence 
 of which Edward's baggage was shifted from the shoul- 
 ders of the game-keeper to that of one of the gillies, 
 and the former w^as sent off with the other mountaineer 
 in a direction different from that of the three remaining 
 travellers. On asking the meaning of this separation, 
 Waverley was told that the Lovdander must go to a 
 hamlet about three miles off for the night ; for unless it 
 was some very particular friend, Donald Bean Lean, the 
 worthy person whom they supposed to be possessed of 
 the cattle, did not much approve of strangers approaching 
 his retreat. This seemed reasonable, and silenced a 
 qualm of suspicion which came across Edward's mind, 
 when he saw himself, at sucli a place and such an hour, 
 deprived of his only Lowland companion. And Evan 
 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 
 trotted out, and putting himself to a very round pace, 
 was out of sight in an "instant. 
 
 Waverley was now left to his own meditations, for his 
 attendant with the battle-axe spoke very little English. 
 They were ti^^ersing a thick, and as it seemed, an end- 
 less wood of ^nes, and consequently the path was alto- 
 gether indiscernible in the murky darkness which sur- 
 rounded 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 Duinhe-wassal 
 was a wee taiglit, Donald could, tat is, might — would — 
 should send ta curradi."
 
 118 WAVERLEY. 
 
 This conveyed no information. The curragh which 
 was promised might be a man, a horse, a cart, or chaise ; 
 and no more could be got from the man with the battle- 
 axe but a repetition of " Aich aye ! 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 conduc- 
 tor 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 ro- 
 mance of his situation. Here he sate on the banks of 
 an unknown lake, under the guidance of a wild native, 
 whose language was unknown to him, on a visit to the 
 den of some renowned out-law, 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 fund of circum- 
 stances 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^'hich assorted 
 ill with die rest was the cause of his joufkey — the Bar- 
 on's milk cows ! this degrading incident he kept in the 
 back ground. 
 
 While wrapt in these dreams of imagination his com- 
 panion 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 direc- 
 tion 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 phe- 
 nomenon, the distant dash of oars w^as heard. The 
 measured sound approached near and more near, and
 
 AVAVERLEY. 1 19 
 
 presently a loud whistle was heard in the same direction. 
 His friend with the battle-axe immediately whistled clear 
 and shrill, in reply to the signal, and a boat manned with 
 four or five Higlilanders, pushed for the little inlet, near 
 which Edward was seated. 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 across the lake with great rapidity. 
 
 CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 The Hold of a Highland Robber. 
 
 The party preserved silence, interrupted only by the 
 monotonous and murmured chant of a Gaelic song, 
 sung in a kind of low recitative by the steersman, and 
 by the dash of the oars, which the notes seemed to reg- 
 ulate, as they dipped to^them in cadence. The light, 
 which they now approached more nearly, assumed a 
 broader, redder, and more irregular splendour. It ap- 
 peared plainly to be a large fire, but whether kindled 
 upon an island or the main iand, Edward could not de- 
 termine. As he saw it, the red glaring orb seemed to 
 rest on the very surface of the lake itself, and resembled 
 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 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 a 
 pallid moonlight.
 
 120 WAVERLEY. 
 
 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 light 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 in- 
 deed 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, permit- 
 ted the boat to enter with the impulse which it had re- 
 ceived. 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 establishment 
 were before his eyes. 
 
 The interior of the cave, which here rose very high, 
 was illuminated by torches made of pine-tree, which 
 emitted a bright and bickering light, attended by a strong, 
 thou2;]i not unpleasant odour. Their light was assisted 
 [Dy the red glare of a large charcoal fire, round which 
 were seared 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 aper- 
 tiure, which the robber facetiously called his spence (or 
 pnntry,) there hung by the heels the carcasses of a. 
 sheep, or ewe, and two cows, lately slaughtered. The 
 principal inhabitant of this singular mansion, attended by 
 Evan Dhu as master of the ceremonies, came forward
 
 WAVERLET. 121 
 
 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 accom- 
 paniments, Waverley prepared himself to meet a stern, 
 gigantic, ferocious figure, such as Salvator would have 
 chosen to be the central object of a group of banditti. 
 
 Donald Bean Lean was the very reverse of all these. 
 He was thin in person and low in stature, with hght 
 sandy-coloured hair and small pale features, from which 
 he derived his agnomen of Bean, or white ; and although 
 his form was hght, well proportioned, and active, he ap- 
 peared, on the whole, rather a diminutive and insignifi- 
 cant figure. He had served in some inferior capacity in 
 the French army, and in order to receive his English 
 visiter in great form, and probably meaning, in his way, 
 to pay him a compliment, 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 incongruous, compared 
 with all around him, that Waverley would have been 
 tempted to laugh, had laughter been either civil or safe. 
 He 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 char- 
 coal fire, the heat of which the season rendered oppres- 
 sive, a strapping Highland dam.sel placed before Waver- 
 ley, Evan, and Donald Bean, three cogues, or wooden 
 vessels, composed of staves and hoops, containing eana- 
 ruich, a sort of strong soup made out of a particular 
 part of the inside of the beeves. After this refresliment, 
 which, though coarse, fatigue and hunger rendered pala- 
 table, steaks, roasted on the coals, were supplied in hb- 
 
 11 VOL. I.
 
 122 
 
 MAVERJiEY. 
 
 eral abundance, and disappeared before Evan Dhu and 
 their host with a promptitude that seemed hke magic, and 
 astonished Waverley, who was much puzzled to reconcile 
 their voracity with what he had heard of the abstemious- 
 ness 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, w^hen chance threw plenty 
 in their way. The whisky came forth in abundance to 
 crown the cheer. The Highlanders drank it copiousl}' 
 and undiluted ; but Edward, having mixed a little with 
 water, did not find it so palatable as to invite him to re- 
 peat the draught. The host bewailed himself exceed- 
 ingly that he could offer 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 there can be no nuts, and the way 
 of those you Hve with 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, visiters of every description who haunted their 
 dwelling, whether as friends or foes. 
 
 " Is not his son Malcolm taishatr (a seer) .^" asked 
 Evan. 
 
 " Nothing equal to his father," replied Donald Bean. 
 " He told us the other day we were to see a great gen- 
 tleman 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 grippit nothing but a fat Baillie of 
 Perth."
 
 WAVERLET. 123 
 
 From this discourse he passed to the poHtical and 
 military state of the country ; and Waverley was aston- 
 ished, and even alarmed, to find a person of this des- 
 cription so accurately acquainted with the strength of the 
 various garrisons and regiments 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 hand- 
 some, but stout warlike fellows. He put Waverley in 
 mind of one or two m^inute circumstances which had hap- 
 pened at a general review of the regiment, which satisfi- 
 ed him that the robber had been an eye-witness of it ; 
 and Evan Dhu having by this time retired from the con- 
 versation, and wrapped himself up in his plaid to take 
 some repose, Donald asked Edward in a very significant 
 manner, whether he had nothing particular to say to him. 
 
 Waverley, surprised and somewhat starded at this 
 question from such a character, answered he had no 
 motive in visiting him but curiosity to see his extraordi- 
 nary 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 ; lam 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 mas- 
 ter 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 entered or left the place without any 
 other ceremony than a few words in Gaelic to the prin- 
 cipal 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
 
 124 WAVERJLEY. 
 
 returned from some excursion, of which they reported 
 the success, and went without farther ceremony to the 
 larder, where cutting with their dirks their rations from 
 the carcasses which were there suspended, they proceed- 
 ed 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 w^as the only female that 
 appeared. The allowance of whisky, however, would 
 have appeared prodigal to any but Highlanders, who, 
 hving 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 the constitu- 
 tion. 
 
 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 glimmer- 
 ing twihght in the recesses of Uairnh an Ri, or the King's 
 cavern, as the abode of Donald Bean Lean was proudly 
 denominated. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Waverlcy proceeds on his Journey. 
 
 When Edward had collected his scattered recollec- 
 tion, he wns surprised to observe the cavern totally de- 
 serted. Having arisen and put his dress in some order, 
 he looked more accurately around 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 burned and half 
 gnav/ed, 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
 
 TTAVERLEY. 125 
 
 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 Uttle 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 beUeved his farther progress 
 by land impossible, only that it was scarce probable but 
 what the inhabitants of the cavern had some mode of 
 issuing from it otherwise than by the lake. Accordingly, 
 he soon observed tliree or four shelvmg steps, or ledges 
 of rock, at the very extremity of the httle platform ; 
 and making use of them as a staircase, he clambered by 
 their means around the projecting shoulder of the crag 
 on which the cavern opened, and, descending whh some 
 difficuhy on the other side, he gained the wild and pre- 
 cipitous shores of a Highland loch, about four miles in 
 length, and a mile and a half over, surrounded by heathy 
 and savage mountains, on the crests of which the morn- 
 ing- mist was still sleeping. 
 
 Looking back to the place from whence 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 im- 
 perceptible notches, that barely afforded place for the 
 foot, seemed, in looking back upon it, a huge precipice, 
 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 en- 
 trance of the narrow and low-browed pave from the oth- 
 er side ; so that unless the retreat had been sought fc! 
 with boats, or disclosed by treacjiery, it rnigl-t be a safe 
 and secret residence to its garrison so 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 
 
 11* VOL. I. 
 
 ^
 
 126 
 
 WAVERLET. 
 
 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 be- 
 held a Highlander (Evan apparently) anghng in the lake, 
 uith another attending him, whom, from the weapon 
 which he shouldered, he recognized 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 glhtering 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 morn- 
 ing repast of milk, eggs, barley bread, fresh butter, and 
 honeycomb. The poor girl had 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 v/hich she had to beg or 
 borrow from distant cottagers. The followers of Don- 
 ald 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, poultry, butter, &ic. were out of the question in 
 this Scythian camp. Yet it must not be omitted, that 
 although Alice had occupied a part of the morning in 
 providing those accommodations for her guest which tho 
 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 disposed. 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, Avhich 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 mentioning a pair of gold ear-rings, and a 
 golden rosary vvhich her father (for she was the daughter
 
 WAVERLEY. 127 
 
 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 ver}' 
 well proportioned, and her demeanour had a natural and 
 rustic grace, with nothing of the sheepishness of an ordi- 
 nary 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 Enghsh 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 a hostess. Nor do I take it upon me to say 
 that the little wild mountaineer would have welcomed 
 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 cranberries, 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 
 complacency for some opportunity of serving him. 
 
 Evan and his attendant now returned slowly along the 
 beach, the latter bearing a large salmon-trout, the pro- 
 duce of the morning's sport, together with the angling- 
 rod, while Evan strolled forward with an easy, self-satis- 
 fied, 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 snn 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 witliered fir branches 
 were quickly in flame, and as speedily reduced to hot 
 embers, on which the trout was broiled in large slices.
 
 128 WAVERLEY. 
 
 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 ofiered the same cordial to Alice and to 
 Edward, which they both declined. With the bounte- 
 ous air of a lord, Evan then proffered the scallop to Du- 
 gald Mahony, 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. IMeanwhile, 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 esteem- 
 ed a wag among the mountain fair, advanced, as if to 
 secure a similar favour ; but x\lice, 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 resum- 
 ed her road, and w^as 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 clum- 
 sy sort of sail, while Evan assumed the helm, directing 
 their course, as it appeared to Waverley, rather higher 
 up the lake than towards the place of his embarkation 
 00 the preceding ni?;ht. As they glided along the siker 
 mirror, Evan opened the conversation with a panegyrick 
 upon Alice, who, he said, was both canny and fendy ; 
 and was, 1o 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
 
 WAVERLET. 129 
 
 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 com- 
 mon 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 cottar, is a thief ; he that lifts a drove from 
 a Sassenach laird is a gentleman-drover. And, besides, 
 to take a tree from the forest, a salmon from the river, a 
 deer from the hill, or a cov/ from a Lowland strath, is 
 what no Highlander need ever think shame upon." 
 
 " But what can this end in, v\-ere he taken in such an 
 appropriation .^" 
 
 " To be sure he would die for the IctWy as many a 
 pretty man has done before him." 
 
 " Die for the law !" 
 
 " Ay ; that is, with the law, or by the law ; be strap- 
 ped up on the kind gallows of CriefF, where his father 
 died, and his goodsire died, and where T hope he'll hve 
 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 f^^ 
 
 " 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 mysel." 
 
 " Gallantly resolved," said Edward ; — " but, in the 
 meanwhile, Evan, Avhat 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 blink-
 
 130 AVAVERLEY. 
 
 ed over 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 Tully-Veolan, all but two, that were unhap- 
 pily slaughtered before I got last night to Uaimhan 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 f Ye would not think to be in 
 his country, without ganging to see him f It would be as 
 much as a man's life's worth." 
 
 " And are we far from Glennaquoich f" 
 " 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 High- 
 landers drew the boat into a little creek among thick 
 flags and reeds, where it lay perfectly concealed. The 
 oars they put in another place of concealment, both for 
 the use of Donald Bean Lean probably, when his occa- 
 sions should next bring him to that place. 
 
 The travellers followed for some time a delightful open- 
 ing in the hills, down which a little brook found its way 
 to the lake. 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 resuming 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."
 
 AVAVERIEY. 131 
 
 " 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 till't if the laird were to look 
 for him wi' three-score 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 mysel 
 or ony other pretty man." 
 
 " But suppose a strong party came against him from 
 the low country, would not your chief defend him f" 
 
 " Na, he would not ware the spark of a iiint for him 
 — if they came with the law." 
 
 " And what must Donald do, then ?" 
 
 " He behoved to rid this country of himsel, and fall 
 back, it may be, over the mount upon Letter-Scriven." 
 
 "And if he were pursued to that place f" 
 
 " I'se warrant he would go to his cousin's at Rannoch." 
 
 ** Well, but if they followed him to Rannoch r" 
 
 " That," quoth Evan, " is beyond all behef ; and, in- 
 deed, 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 9 the black soldier ; that is what 
 they called 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 a Ser- 
 jeant 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 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 twelve- 
 month." 
 
 This last argument admitted of no reply, nor did Ed- 
 ward attempt any : he rather chose to bring back the
 
 132 WAVERLEY. 
 
 discourse to Donald Bean Lean. " Does Donald con- 
 fine himself to cattle, or does he lift, as you call it, any 
 thing 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 cum- 
 brous to carry, and not easy to put away for siller in this 
 country." 
 
 " But does he carry off men and women f" 
 
 " Out aye. Did not ye hear him speak o' the Perth 
 Baillie : It cost that body five hundred marks ere he got 
 to the south o' Bally-Brough. And ance Donald play- 
 ed a pretty sport. There was to be a blythe bridal be- 
 tween the lady Cramfeezer, in the howe o' the Mearns, 
 (she was the auld laird's widow, and no sae young as she 
 had been hersel,) 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 bride- 
 groom was in request, and wanting to cleik the cunzie, 
 (that is, to hook the siller,) he cannily carried off Gillie- 
 whackit ae night when he was riding dovering hame, 
 (wi' the malt rather abune the meal,) and with the help 
 of his gillies he gat liim 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 pounds" 
 
 " The devil !" 
 
 " Funds 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 mean while ye'Il no hinder Gilliewhackit to take
 
 WAVERLEY. 133 
 
 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 tJie 
 first into the loch that he catched beyond the Pass. 
 However, some cailhachs (that is, old women.) that were 
 about Donald's hand, nursed Gilliewhackit sae weel, that 
 between the free open air in the cove and the fresh whey, 
 deil an' he did not recover may be as weel 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 hame, 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 un- 
 kenn'd degree. And I cannot tell you 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 clink- 
 ed in his purse neither 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, he 
 would bring him in guilty of nothing whatever, unless it 
 were wilful arson, or murder under trust." 
 
 With such bald and disjointed chat Evan went on illus- 
 trating the existing state of the Highlands, more perhaps 
 to the amusement 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 hberality in computing distance, began to 
 think that Evan's five miles were nearly doubled. His 
 observation on the large measure which the Scottish al- 
 lowed of their land, in comparison to the computation of 
 their money, was readily answered by Evan, with the 
 old jest, " The de'il take them wha have the lea^t pint 
 stoup." 
 
 And now the report of a gun was heard, and a sports- 
 man was seen, with his dogs and attendant, at the upper 
 
 12 VOL. I.
 
 134 
 
 MAVEKLEY. 
 
 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 duinhe-wassel, 
 in such a way as that f " 
 
 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 connoit Men ses gens,^ had no idea of raising him- 
 self in the eyes of an English young man of fortune, by 
 appearing with a retinue of idle Highlanders dispropor- 
 tioned to the occasion. He was w^ell aware that such an 
 unnecessary attendance would seem to Edward rather 
 ludicrous than respectable ; and while few men were 
 more attached to ideas of chieftainship and feudal power, 
 he was, for that very reason, cautious of exhibiting ex- 
 ternal marks of dignity, unless at the time and in the 
 manner when they were most hkely to produce an im- 
 posing effect. Therefore, although, had he been to re- 
 ceive a brother chieftain, he would probably have been 
 attended by all that retinue which Evan had described 
 w^ith 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 shoot- 
 ing-pouch and his broad-sword, without which he seldom 
 went abroad. 
 
 When Fergus and Waverley met, the latter was struck 
 with the peculiar 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, checqued scarlet and 
 white ; in other particulars, his dress strictly resembled 
 Evan'^, excepting that he had no weapon save a dirk, 
 very richly mounted with silver. His page, as we have 
 said, carried his claymore ; and the fowling-piece, which
 
 WAYERLEY. 
 
 135 
 
 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 pecu- 
 Harities of the northern physiognomy, but had yet so 
 little of its harshness and exaggeration, 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 favour- 
 able impression derived from this handsome and dignifi- 
 ed exterior. Yet a skilful physiognomist would have 
 been less satisfied with the countenance on the second 
 than on the first view. The eye-brow 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 importance ; 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, 
 notwithstanding, we are made sensible by certain, though 
 shght signs, that it may thunder and lighten before the 
 close of evening. 
 
 It was not, however, upon the first meeting that Ed- 
 ward 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 ; upbraided him 
 gently with choosing so rude an abode as he had done the 
 night before ; and entered into a lively conversation with 
 him about Donald Bean's housekeeping, but w^ithout the 
 least hint as to his predatory habits, or the immediate
 
 136 
 
 -NVAVERLEY. 
 
 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, followed 
 v/ith Galium Beg and Dugald Mahony. 
 
 We will take the opportunity to introduce the reader 
 to some particulars of Fergus Mac-Ivor's character and 
 history, wdiich were not completely known to Waverley 
 till after a connection, winch, though arising from a cir- 
 cumstance so casual, had for a length of time the deep- 
 est influence upon his character, actions, and prospects. 
 But this being an important subject, must form the com- 
 mencement of a new chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The Chief and his Mansion. 
 
 The ingenious licentiate Francisca de Ubeda, when 
 h? commenced his history of La Picara Justina Diez, 
 — which, by the way, is one of the most rare books of 
 Sp uiisb literature, — complained of his pen having caught 
 ^ip a hair, and forthwith begins, with more eloquence 
 tiian conmion sense, an affectionate expostulation with 
 that useful implement, upbraiding it with being the quill 
 of a goose, — a bird inconstant by nature, as frequenting 
 t'iC three elements of water, earth, and air indifferently, 
 :uid 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 
 ]!oid it the most useful quality of my pen, that it can 
 speedily change from grave to gay, and from descrip- 
 tion and dialogue to narrative and character. So that 
 if my quill display no other properties of its mother- 
 goose than her mulabihty, truly I shall be well pleased ;
 
 WAVERLEY. 137 
 
 and I conceive that you, my worthy friend, will have no 
 occasion for discontent. From the jargon, therefore, 
 of the Highland gilhes, I pass to the character of their 
 chief. It is an important examination, and therefore, 
 like Dogberry, we must spare no wisdom. 
 
 The ancestor of Fergus Mac-Ivor, about three cen- 
 turies before, had set up a claim to be recognized as 
 chieftain of the numerous and powerful clan to which 
 he belonged, the name of v/hich it is unnecessary to 
 mention. Being defeated by an opponent who had more 
 justice, or at least more force, on his side, he moved 
 southwards, with those who adhered to him, in quest of 
 new settlements, like a second jEneas. The state of 
 the Perthshire Highlands favoured his purpose. A great 
 Baron in that country had lately become traitor to tl^.e 
 crown ; Jan, which was the name of our adventurer, 
 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 
 lie 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 m 
 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 b}' 
 his dependants and neighbours, that he, who had hith- 
 erto been called Ian Mac-Ivor, or John the son of Ivor, 
 was thereafter distinguished, both in song and genealo- 
 gy, 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 patro- 
 nyrnic title of Vich Ian Vohr, i. e. the son of John the 
 Great ; the clan at large, to distinguish them from that 
 from which they had seceded, weie denoimnd.icd Sliochd 
 nan Ivor, the race of Ivor. 
 
 The father of Fergus, the tenth in direct descent from 
 John of tlie Tower, engaged heart and hand in the in- 
 surrection of 1715, and was forced to fiy to France, 
 
 12* VOL. I.
 
 138 WAVERLEY. 
 
 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 repurchased for a small price in the name of 
 the young proprietor, who in consequence came to re- 
 side 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 only 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, with- 
 in 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 frequently arose among other clans in his neigh- 
 bourhood, 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 means to the uttermost to maintain 
 the rude and plentiful hospitality, 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 v;as calculated to maintain. These con- 
 sisted chiefly of his own clan, not one of whom he suf- 
 fered 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 
 individuals, too, who had not even that apology, were
 
 WAVEKtET. 139 
 
 nevertheless received into his allegiance, which indeed 
 was refused to none who were, like Poins, proper men 
 of their hands, 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 government to preserve the peace of the 
 Highlands. While in this capacity he acted with vigour 
 and spirit, and preserved great order in the country un- 
 der his charge. He caused his vassals to enter by ro- 
 tation in his company, and serve for a c^rtain space of 
 time, which gave them all in turn a general notion of 
 mihtary disciphne. In his campaigns against the bandit- 
 ti, it was observed that he assumed 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 sus- 
 picious lenity to those freebooters who made restitution 
 on his summons, and offered personal submission to him- 
 self, while he rigorously pursued, apprehended, and 
 sacrificed to justice, .all such interlopers as dared to de- 
 spise his admonitions or commands. On the other hand, 
 if any officers of justice, military parties, or others, pre- 
 sumed to pursue thieves or marauders through his ter- 
 ritories, and without applying for his consent and concur- 
 rence, nothing was more certain than that they would 
 meet with some notable foil or defeat ; upon which oc- 
 casions 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 exclude suspicion, and mat- 
 ters were so represented to government, that our chief- 
 tain was deprived of his military command. 
 
 Whatever he felt upon 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 dis2:race. Donald Bean Lean 
 and others of his class, whose depredations had hitherto
 
 140 WAVERLET. 
 
 been confined to other districts, appeared from thence- 
 forward to have made a settlement on this devoted bor- 
 der ; and their ravages were carried on with httle oppo- 
 sition, 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 ihe waste of his feudal hospitality, which the 
 discontinuance of his pay m.ight have otherwise essen- 
 tially diminished. 
 
 In following this course of conduct, Fergus had a 
 further object than merely being the great mtm 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 persuaded 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 augmented his own force to the utmost, 
 to be prepared for the first favourable opportunity of 
 rising. With this purpose also he conciliated the fa- 
 vour 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, notwithstanding his pecuharities, was much respect- 
 ed in the country, he took advantage of the foray of 
 Donald Bean Lean to solder up the dispute in the man- 
 ner we have mentioned. Some indeed surmised th-at 
 he caused the enterprize to be suggested to Donald, on 
 jjurpose to pave the way to a reconciliation, which, sup- 
 j)osing that to be the case, cost the Laird of Bradwar- 
 dine two good milch cows. This zeal in their behalf 
 the. house of Stuart repaid with a considerable sliare of 
 their confidence, an occasional supply of louis d'ors, 
 abundance of fair words, and a parcinnent with a huge 
 vv'axen seal appended, purporting to be an earl's patent, 
 granted by no less a person than James the Third King
 
 WAVERLEY. 141 
 
 of England, and Eighth King of Scotland, to his right 
 feal, trusty, and well-beloved Fergus Mac-Ivor of Glen- 
 naquoich, in the county of Perth, and kingdom of 
 Scotland. 
 
 With this future coronet glittering before his eyes, Fer- 
 gus plunged deeply into the correspondence and plots of 
 that unhappy period ; and, hke all such active agents, 
 easily reconciled his conscience to going certain lengths 
 in the service of his party, from which honour and pride 
 would have deterred 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 high rude-looking square tower, 
 with the addition of a lofted house, that is a building of 
 two stories, constructed by Fergus's grandfather 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 Vicli Ian Vohr 
 of the time had probably been as successful as his pre- 
 decessor was in harrying Northumberland, and therefore 
 left to his posterity a rival edifice, as a monument of his 
 magnificence. 
 
 Aroimd 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, w^ere 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 
 barley, liable to constant depredations from the herds of 
 wild ponies and black cattle that grazed upon the ad- 
 jacent hills. These ever and anon made an incursion 
 upon the arable ground, which w^as repelled by the
 
 142 VAVERLEY. 
 
 loud, uncouth, and dissonant shouts of half a dozen 
 Highland swains, all running as if they had been mad, 
 and every one hallooing a half-starved dog to the rescue 
 of the forage. At a little 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 Blen- 
 heim more pleasure than the finest view in the domain 
 assigned to him by the gratitude of his country. This 
 consisted of about a hundred Higlanders, in complete 
 dress and arms ; at sight of whom the chieftain apolo- 
 gized 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 dismis- 
 sed, 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 miUtary movements. 
 They then practised individually at a mark, and showed 
 extraordinary dexterity in the management of the pistol 
 and firelock. They took aim standing, sitting, leaning, 
 or lying prostrate, as they were commanded, and al- 
 ways with effect upon the target. Next they paired off 
 for the broad-sword exercise 5 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, wrest-
 
 WAVERLEY. Mo 
 
 ling, 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 Waverley 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 un- 
 der five hundred claymores. But you are aware, Cap- 
 tain Waverley, that the disarming act, passed about 
 twenty years ago, prevents their being in the complete 
 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 your last night's landlord ; and gov- 
 ernment, which has removed other m.eans 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 sum- 
 mons to deliver up to General Blakeney, at Stirling, 
 the few broad-swords they have left us : there were httle 
 pohcy in that, methinks. — 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 man-
 
 144 WAVERLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A Highland Feast. 
 
 Ere Waverley entered the banquetting-hall, he was 
 offered the patriarchal refreshment of a bath for the 
 feet, which the sultry weather, and the morasses he had 
 traversed, rendered highly acceptable. He was not in- 
 deed so luxuriously attended upon this occasion, as the 
 heroic travellers in the Odyssey ; the task of ablution 
 and abstersion being performed, not by a beautiful dam- 
 sel, trained 
 
 To chafe the limbs and pour the fragrant oil, 
 
 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 fathers' herds did not feed so near together, that 
 I should do you this service." A small donation, how- 
 ever, amply reconciled this ancient handmaiden to the 
 supposed degradation ; and, as Edw^ard proceeded to 
 the hall, she gave him her blessing, in the Gaelic prov- 
 erb, '* 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 Ed- 
 ward, and two or three Highland visiters of neighbour- 
 ing 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,
 
 WAVE RLE T. 145 
 
 according to their order ; and, lowest of all, the tenants 
 vvho 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, nev- 
 ertheless, 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 banquet, was a change- 
 ful group of women, ragged boys and girls, beggars, 
 young and old, large greyhounds, and terriers, and 
 pointers, and curs of low degree ; all of whom took 
 some interest, more or less immediate, in the main action 
 of the piece. 
 
 This hospitahty, apparently unbounded, had yet its 
 line of economy. Some pains had been bestowed in 
 dressing the dishes of fish, game, k,c., which were at 
 the upper end of the table, and immediately under the 
 eye of the English stranger. Lower down stood im- 
 mense clumsy joints of mutton and beef, which, but for 
 the absence of pork, abhorred in the Highlands, resem- 
 bled the rude festivity of the banquet of Penelope's 
 suitors. But the central dish was a yearling lamb, 
 called " a hog in harst," 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 clans- 
 men, some with dirks, others with their knives 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 victuals seemed of yet coarser 
 quality, though sufficiently abundant. Broth, onions, 
 cheese, and the fragments of the feast, regaled the sons 
 of Ivor, w^ho feasted in the open air. 
 
 The liquor was supplied in the same proportion, and 
 under similar regulations. Excellent claret and cham- 
 
 13 VOL. I.
 
 146 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 pagne were liberally distributed among the Chief's ini- 
 inediate neighbours ; whisky, plain or diluted, and strong- 
 beer, refreshed those who sate 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 
 dependants 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, produced such a Babel of noises, tliat 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, *' account my estate as held in trust for their sup- 
 port ; and I must find them beef and ale, while the 
 rogues will do nothing for themselves but practise the 
 broad-sword, or wander about the hills shooting, fishing, 
 hunting, drinking, and making love to the lasses of the 
 strath. But w^hat can I do, Captain Waverley ^ every 
 thing 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 at- 
 tached follov/ers. 
 
 " 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 tuo on the neck, I believe the 
 loons would stand by me. But who thinks of that in 
 the present day, when the maxim is, — ' Better an old 
 woman with a purse in her hand, than three men with 
 V^lted brands.'" Then, turning to the company, he 
 I'.oposed the " HeaUh of Captain Waverley, a worthy 
 friend of his kind neighbour and ally, the Baron of 
 Bradwardine."
 
 WAVERLKY. 147 
 
 " 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 mean to pledge the toast. '•' 1 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 Brad- 
 wardine," answered another ancient ; " and the guest 
 that comes hither from 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! BalJenkeiroch," replied the first, " 3XH1 think 
 rather of the flasii of the carbine at the Mains of Tully- 
 Veolan, than the glance of the sword that fought for the 
 cause at Proud 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 uncon- 
 nected by birth or alliance with the family of Bradwar- 
 dine ; 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 
 signaLfor the pipes to cease, and said, aloud, "Where 
 is the song hidden, my friends, that Mac-Murrough can- 
 not find it .^" 
 
 Mac-Murrough, the family bhairdh, an aged man, im- 
 mediately took the hint, and began to chant, v.ith 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 declamation, his 
 ardour seemed to increase. He had at first spoken with
 
 '48 WAVERLEY. 
 
 ills 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, ac- 
 companied witli appropriate gesture. He seemed to 
 Edward, who attended to him with much interest, to 
 recite many proper names, to lament the dead, to apos- 
 trophize the absent, to exhort and entreat and animate 
 those who were present. Waverley thought he even 
 discerned his own name, and was convinced his conjec- 
 ture 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 toward the reciter, many sprung up and 
 waved their arms in ecstacy, and some laid their hands 
 on their swords. When the song ceased, there was a 
 deep pause, w'hile 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 
 10 partake their high tone o( enthusiasm, filled with 
 claret a small silver cup w'hich stood 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 sakeofVich Ian Vohr, the shell 
 of the gourd which contained it." The gift was re- 
 ceived by Mac-Murrouch 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 wgs obvi- 
 ous, hov/ever, that the clan regarded the generosity of 
 their chieftain with high approbation. Many approved 
 Gaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of which the 
 Cliieftain gave his guest the following \ersions:
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 149 
 
 " 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 lad? 
 with the kilts." " Highlanders, shoulder to shoulder." 
 — with many other phhy sentiments of the like nature. 
 
 Edward was particularly solicitous to know the mean- 
 ing of that song which appeared to produce such effect 
 upon the passions of the company, and hinted his curi- 
 osity 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 ad- 
 dicted myself to exceed in its amount, nor do 1," added 
 he, smiUng, " 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. jj^s the door closed 
 behind them, Edward heard Vich Ian Vohr's health iri- 
 voked with a wild and animated cheer, that expressed 
 the satisfaction of the gJests, and the depth of their de- 
 votion to his service. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 The Chieftain's Siste-\ 
 
 The drawing-room of Flora Mac-Ivor was furmshed 
 in the plainest and most simple manner ; for at Glenna- 
 quoich every other sort of expenditure was retrenched 
 as much as possible, for the purpose of maintaining, id 
 
 13* VOL. I.
 
 r50 
 
 WAYERLEY. 
 
 its full dignity, the hospitality of the Chieftain, and re- 
 taining and multiplying the number of his dependants 
 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 to- 
 gether with great taste. Her hair was not disfigured by 
 the art of the friseur, but Ml 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 appearance of Mrs. Henry Sid- 
 dons, and her brother in those characters. They had 
 the same antique and regular correctness of profile ; the 
 same dark eyes, eye-lashes, and eye-brows ; the same 
 ' jearness of compdcion, excepting that Fergus's was 
 embrowned by exercise, and Flora's possessed the ut- 
 most feminine delicacy. But die haughty, and some- 
 what 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 orders to his followers 
 during their military exercise, reminded Edward of ?. 
 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 swee^, 
 '- an excellent thing in woman ;" yet in urging any fa- 
 vourite topic, which she often pursued with natural elo- 
 qzience, 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 Chief-
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 151 
 
 tain, seemed impatient even of the material obstacles it 
 encountered, had, in his sister's, 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 strugghng 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 de- 
 voted attachment to the exiled family of Stuart. She 
 beheved 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 partizans of the Chevalier 
 St. George had not ceased to 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 in- 
 terest and advancement so easily combined with it ; and 
 at the moment he should unsheath 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 feehng v.hich he 
 did not avow even to himself, but it existed, neverthe- 
 less, 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 
 Lnd interested views, as have shrouded them under the 
 opinions which she had been taught to think patriotism. 
 Such instances of devotion were not uncommon am.ong 
 the followers of the unhappy race of Stuart, of which 
 many memorable proofs will recur to the mind of most 
 of ray readers. But peculiar attention on the part of 
 Chevalier de St. George and his princess to the parents 
 of Fergus and his sister, and to themselves, when orphans,
 
 152 WAVERIEY. 
 
 -had rivetted their faith. Fergus, upon the death of his 
 parents, had been for some time a page of honour in the 
 train of the Chevaher'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 w^as 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 ; and both retained the deepest and most grateful 
 sense of her kindness. 
 
 Having thus touched upon the leading principles 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 reahty of feeling. When settled in the lonely regions 
 of Glennaquoich, she found that her resources in Fiench, 
 English, and Italian hterature, were likely to be few and 
 interrupted ; and, in order to fill up her vacant time, she 
 bestowed a part of it upon the music and poetical tradi- 
 tions of the Highlanders, and began really to feel that 
 pleasure in the pursuit, which her brother, whose percep- 
 tions of literary merit were more blunt, rather afiected 
 for the sake of popularity than actually experienced. 
 Her resolution was strengthened in these researches, by 
 the extreme delight which her inquiries seemed to affoi d 
 those to whom she resorted for information. 
 
 Her love of her clan, an attachment which was almost 
 hereditary 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 accompiisliing his own aggran- 
 dizement, that we should term him the model of a High- 
 land Chieftain. Flora felt the same anxiety for cherish- 
 ing 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 tiir.o
 
 "WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 153 
 
 and country, entitled to govern. The savings of her in- 
 come, for she had a small 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 
 iVom 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 principle beauties of the 
 district, and intimated her superiority by concluding, that 
 " the fairest apple hung on the highest bough," he re- 
 ceived, in donatives from the individuals of the clan, more 
 seed-barley than would have sowed his Highland Parnas- 
 sus, the Bard^s croft, as it was called, ten times over. 
 
 From situation, as well as choice. Miss Mac-Ivor's 
 soci.ety was extremely limited. Her most intimate friend 
 had been Rose Bradwardine, to whom she was much 
 attached ; and when seen together, they w^ould have af- 
 forded 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 wilHng to gratify, 
 and scarce any which did not come within the compass 
 of his power. With Flora it was otherwise. While 
 almost a girl she had undergone 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 nation- 
 al 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 her talents to the 
 amusement of society, and stood very high in the opinion 
 of the old Baron, who used to sing along w^ith her such
 
 164 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 French duets of Lindor and Cloris, he. 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 en- 
 treaties 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 carrying 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 conde- 
 scended 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 emx- 
 pire of the tea-table, Fergus introduced Captain Waver- 
 ley, whom she received with the usual forms of politeness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Highland JMinstrehy . 
 
 When the first salutations had passed, Fergus said to 
 his sister, " My dear Flora, before I return to the bar- 
 barous ritual of our forefathers, I must tell you that Cap- 
 tain 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 poetry, and that Mac-Murrough
 
 WAYERLEY. 155 
 
 admires your version of his songs upon the same princi- 
 ple that Captain Waverley admires their original, — be- 
 cause he does not comprehend them. Will you have 
 the goodness to read or recite to our guest in Eng- 
 lish, the extraordinary string of names which Mac-Mur- 
 rough has tacked together in Gaelic f — My life to a 
 moor-fowl's feather, you are provided with a version ; 
 for I know you are in all the bard's councils, and ac- 
 quainted with his songs long before he rehearses them in 
 the hall." 
 
 " How can you say so, Fergus ! You know how little 
 these verses can possibly interest an English stranger, 
 even if I could translate them as you pretend." 
 
 " Not less than they interest me, lady fair. To-day 
 your joint composition, for I insist you had a share in it, 
 has cost me the last silver cujj in the castle, and I suppose 
 will cost me something else next time I hold cour phniere, 
 if the muse descends on Mac-Murrough ; for you know 
 our proverb, — When the hand of the chief ceases to 
 bestow, the breath of the bard is frozen in the utterance. 
 — Well, I would it were even so : there are three things 
 that are useless to a modern Highlander, — a sword whicli 
 he must not draw, — a bard to sing of deeds which he 
 dare not imitate, — and a large goat-skin purse without a 
 iouis 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 
 sword for a marechal's batoon ; that he esteems Mac- 
 Murrough a far greater poet than Homer, and would not 
 give up his goat-skin purse for all the Iouis d'ors which 
 it could contain." 
 
 " Well pronounced, Flora ; blow for blow, as Conan 
 said to the devil. 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 Wa- 
 verley ; for two Vvx41-dressed young women, v.hose char-
 
 156 WAVERLET. 
 
 acter seemed to hover between that of companions and 
 dependants, 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 accounts which the lady 
 gave him of Celtic poetry. 
 
 " The recitation," she said, " of poems, recording the 
 feats of heroes, the complaints of lovers, and the wars 
 of contending tribes, forms the chief amusement of a 
 winter fire-side in the Highlands. Some of these are 
 said to be very ancient, and if they are ever translated 
 into any of the languages of civihzed 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 translation, or be lost on 
 those who do not sympathize with the feehngs 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 mountains .^" 
 
 " That is a trying question. His reputation is high 
 among his countrymen, and you must not expect me to 
 depreciate it." 
 
 " 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 Highland clans under their distinctive peculiarities, 
 and an exhortation to them to remember and to emulate 
 the actions of their forefathers." 
 
 " And am I wrong in conjecturing, however extraor- 
 dinary 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 uncommonly vocalic, is well adapted for
 
 WAVERIET. 157 
 
 sudden and extemporaneous poetry ; and a bard seldom 
 fails to augment the effects of a premeditated song, by 
 throwing in any stanzas which may be suggested by the 
 circumstances attending the recitation." 
 
 " 1 would give my best horse to know what the High- 
 land bard could find to say of such an unworthy southern 
 as myself." 
 
 " It shall not even cost you a lock of his mane. — Una, 
 Mavourneen ! (She spoke a few words to one of the 
 young girls in attendance, who instantly curtsied and 
 tripped out of the room.) — 1 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 presump- 
 tion. If you will give me a (ew moments for consider- 
 ation, I will endeavour to engraft the meaning of these 
 lines upon a rude Enghsh translation, which I have at- 
 tempted 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 fa- 
 vourite haunts, and Cathleen and I will join you there." 
 
 Una, having received instructions in her native lan- 
 guage, conducted 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 resound- 
 ing with a clang of bagpipes and the high applause of 
 the 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 dowm the long bare valley, which 
 extended, apparently without any change or elevation of 
 
 14 VOL. I.
 
 158 
 
 WATERLEY 
 
 character, as far as the hills which formed its houndary 
 permitted 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 
 inotions of the lesser brook were rapid and furious, is- 
 suing from between precipices like a maniac from his 
 confinement, all foam and upioar. 
 
 It was up the course of this last stream that Waver- 
 ley, like a knight of romance, was conducted by the 
 fair Highland damsel, his silent guide. A small path, 
 w^hich 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 des- 
 olate, 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 pre- 
 sented its gigantic bulk, as if to forbid the passenger's 
 farther progress ; and it was not till he approached its 
 very base, that Waverley discerned the sudden and 
 acute turn by which the pathway wheeled its course 
 around this formidable obstacle. In another spot, the 
 })rojecting 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 hundred 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 si-nall portion of blue sky not in- 
 tercepted by the projecting rocks on either side, it was 
 uith a sensation of honor that Waverley beheld Flora 
 and her attendant appear, like inhabitants of another 
 region, propped, as it were, in mid air, upon this treni-
 
 WATERtEY. i 59 
 
 bliiig structure. She stopped upon observing bim be- 
 low, and, with an air of graceful ease, which made him 
 shudder, waved her handkerchief to him by way of sig- 
 nal. 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 
 *lhe other side. 
 
 Advancing a (e\v yards, and passing under the bridge 
 which he had viewed with so much terror, the path as- 
 cended rapidly from tlie edge of the brook, and the glen 
 w^idened into a sylvan amphitheatre, 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. 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 fur- 
 longs lost sight of the brook, suddenly placed Waverley 
 in front of a romantic water-fall. It was not so remark- 
 able either for great height or quantity of water, as for 
 the beautiful accompaniments which made the spot in- 
 teresting. After a broken cataract of about twenty feet, 
 the stream was received in a large natural basin, filled 
 to the brim ^vith 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 as if over a broken part of the ledge, and form- 
 ed a second fall, w'hich 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 ro- 
 mantic reservoir corresponded in beauty ; but it was 
 beauty of a stern and commanding cast, as if in the 
 act of expanding into grandeur. Mossy banks of turf
 
 160 
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 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 cau- 
 tiously, that they added to the grace, without diminish- 
 ing the romantic wildness of the scene. 
 > Here, like one of those lovely forms which decorate 
 the landscapes of Poussin, Wa\ erley found Flora gazing 
 on the w^ater-fall. Two paces farther back stood Cath- 
 leen, 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 
 stooping in the w^est, 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 feehng of delight and aw^e with which he 
 approached her, hke a fair enchantress of Boiardo or 
 Ariosto, by whose nod the scenery around seemed to 
 have been created, an Eden in the wilderness. 
 
 Flora, hke 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- 
 ating the feelings with which Waverley seemed obvious- 
 ly to be impressed ; and, unacquainted with the fanciful 
 and susceptible pecuharities of his character, consider- 
 ed his homage as the passing tribute which a woman of 
 even inferior charms might have expected in such a sit- 
 uation. 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
 
 WAVERLEY. 161 
 
 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 imperfect translation, were I 
 to- produce it without its own wild and appropriate ac- 
 companiments. 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 mur- 
 mur of the mountain stream. He who woos 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, w-ithout exclaiming that the muse whom she 
 invoked, could never find a more appropriate represen- 
 tative. 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 al- 
 most to a sense of pain. He would not for w^orlds 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 High- 
 land 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 dis- 
 tant water-fall, 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 feelings with which, so sung and 
 accompanied, they were heard by Waverley. 
 
 14* VOL. u
 
 162 "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 slrang-er commanded — it sunk on the land. 
 It has frozen each heart, and benumb'd every hand ! 
 
 The dirk and the target lie sordid with dust, 
 The bloodless c]a\Tnore 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 I 
 Be mute every string, and be hush'd every tone. 
 That shall bid us remember the fame that is flown. 
 
 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 blaze. 
 
 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 breaJc, 
 Need the harp of the aged remind you to wake ? 
 That dawn never beamed on your forefathers' 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, Glengary, 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 \ 
 Rough Keppoch, give breath to thy bugle's bold swell. 
 Till far Coryarrick resound to the knell ! 
 
 vStcrii Oil of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kintail, 
 Let tbo stag in thy slaiic^ard bound wild in the gale'. 
 May the rare of Clan Gillean, the fearless and free^ 
 Remember Glenlivat, Harlaw,and Dundee! 
 
 Let the dan of grey Fingon, whose offspring has given 
 Such heroe-s to earth, and such martyrs to heaven,
 
 WAVERLET. 163 
 
 Unite with the race of renown'd Rorri More, 
 To launch the long galley, and stretch to the oar 1 
 
 How Mac Shimei will joy when their chief shall display 
 The yew-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 ' 
 
 Ye sons of brown Dermid, who slew the wild boar. 
 Resume the pure faith of the great Galium More l 
 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, jump- 
 ed upon Flora, and interrupted her music by his im- 
 portunate caresses. At a distant whistle, he turned and 
 shot down the path again with the rapidity of an ar- 
 row. " That is Fergus's faithful attendant. Captain Wa- 
 verley," said Flora, " and that was his signal. He likes 
 no poetry but what is humorous, and comes in good time 
 to interrupt my long catalogue of the tribes, whom one 
 of your saucy English poets calls 
 
 Our bootless host of high-bori beggars, 
 Mac-Leans, Mac-Kenzies.QAid Mac-Gregoi-s." 
 
 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 stan- 
 zas to Vich Ian Vohr of the Banners, enumerating all 
 his great properties, and not forgetting his being a cheer- 
 er 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 conjured to re- 
 member 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,
 
 164 WAVERLEY. 
 
 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." 
 
 Aweike 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 tlie 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 a^ your sires did of yore, 
 Or die like your sires, and endure it no more ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 fVaverley 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 unsub- 
 limed taste now, like my own, would prefer a jet 
 d'eau at Versailles to this cascade, with all its accom- 
 paniments of rock and roar ; but this is Flora's Parnas- 
 sus, Captain Waverley, and that fountain her Helicon. 
 it would be greatly for the benefit of my cellar if she 
 rould teach her coadjutor, Mac-Murrough, the value of 
 its influence : he has just drank 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 hollow 
 of his hand,and immediately commenced, with a theatri- 
 xal air, —
 
 WAVERI.EY. 165 
 
 " 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 com. 
 
 But English poetry will never succeed under the influ- 
 ence of a Highland Helicon — Allons courage-— 
 
 O vous, qui buvez a tasse pleine, 
 A cette heureuse fontaine, 
 Ou on ne voit sur le riveige, 
 
 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 Heav- 
 en's sake, bring down Coridon and Lindor upon us." 
 
 " Nay, if you cannot relish la houletie et le chain- 
 meaUj 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 crack-brained Italian romancers is it that says, 
 
 lo d'Elieona niente 
 Mi euro, in fe de Dio, che'l bere d'acque 
 (Bea chi ber ne \'uol) sempre mi spiacque !* 
 
 But if you prefer the Gaelic, Captain Waverley, here is 
 little Cathleen shall sing you Drimmindhu. — Come, 
 Cathleen, astore, (i. e. my dear,) begin ; no apologies 
 to the Cean-kinn6y 
 
 Cathleen sung with much livehness a Httle Gaelic 
 song, the burlesque elegy of a countryman upon the loss 
 of his cow, the comic tones of which, though he did not 
 
 * Good sooth, I reck nought of your Helicon ; 
 Drink water whoso will, in faith I will drink none.
 
 166 
 
 ^V AYE RLE Y 
 
 understand the language, made VVaverley 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 be- 
 hind her companion. 
 
 In the progress of their return to the castle, the 
 Chieftain warmly pressed Waverley to stay for a week 
 or two, in order to see a grand hunting party, in which 
 he and some other Highland gentlemen proposed to 
 join. The charms of melody and beauty were too 
 strongly impressed in Edward's breast to permit his de- 
 cHning an invitation so pleasing. It was agreed, there- 
 fore, that he should write a note to the Baron of Brad- 
 wardine, expressing his intention to stay a fortnight at 
 Glennaquoich, and requesting him to forward by die 
 bearer (a gilhj 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 he was the very model of the old 
 Scottish cavalier, with all his excehences and pecu- 
 liarities. " 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 now, in the 
 present time, the gentlemen whose principles do not 
 permit them to pay court to the present government, 
 are neglected and degraded, and many conduct them- 
 selves accordingly ; and, hke some of the persons you 
 have seen at Tully-Veolan, adopt habits and companions 
 inconsistent with their birth and breeding. The ruth- 
 less proscription of party seems to degrade the victims 
 whom it brands, however unjustly. But let us hope 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
 
 ^VAVERl^EY 
 
 167 
 
 without becoming a boorish two-Iesged steer hke Kil- 
 lancureit." 
 
 Thus did Flora prophesy a revolution, which time in- 
 deed has produced, but in a manner very different from 
 what she had in her mind. 
 
 The amiable Rose was next mentioned, with the 
 warmest encomium on her person, manners, and mind. 
 " That man," said Flora, " will find an inestimable 
 treasure in the affections of Rose Bradwardine, 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 liusband 
 will be to her what her father now is, the object of all 
 her care, solicitude, and affection. She will see noth- 
 ing, and connect herself with nothing, but by him and 
 through him. If he is a man of sense and virtue, she 
 will sympathize in his sorrov.s, divert his fatigue, and 
 share his pleasures. If she becomes the property of a 
 churlish or negligent husband, she \v\\\ suit his taste also, 
 for she will not long survive his unkindness. And, 
 alas ! how great is the chance that some such unw orthy 
 lot may be that of my poor friend I — O that I were a 
 queen this moment, and could command the most ami- 
 able and worthy youth of my kingdom to accept happi- 
 ness with the hand of Rose Bradwardine !" 
 
 '* 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 jocularly expressed, rather jarred on Edward's 
 feelings, notwithstanding his growing inclination to Flora, 
 and his indifference to Miss Bradw^ardine. This is one 
 Oi the inexplicabihties of human nature, which we leave 
 without comment. 
 
 " Your's, brother ?" answered Flora, regarding him 
 steadily. " No ; you have another bride — Honour ; 
 and the dangers you must run in pursuit of her riral 
 would break poor Rose's heart." 
 
 Witii this discourse they reached the castle, and Wa- 
 verlev soon prepared his despatches for Tuily-Veolan
 
 1 68 WAVERLEY. 
 
 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. He mentioned his loss, borrowing at 
 the same time the family seal of the Chieftain. He 
 thought he must have left it at Tully-Veolan. 
 
 " 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, 1 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 ' steak-raid,' that is, 
 a 'collop 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 Serjeant's 
 party from Stirling (this he said with haughty and em- 
 phatic irony) to seize Vich Ian Vohr, as they nickname 
 me, in his own castle." 
 
 " Now, Fergus, must not our guest be sensible that 
 all this is folly and affectation ^ You have men enough 
 to serve you without enlisting banditti, and your own 
 honour is above taint — Why don't you send this Donald 
 Bean Lean, whom I hate for bis smoothness and duplic- 
 ity, 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 support- 
 ers !" 
 
 "O but, sister," rejoined the Chief, gaily, "you 
 don't consider my respect for la belle passion. Evan
 
 WAVERLEY. 169 
 
 Dhu Maccombich is in love with Donald's daughter, 
 Alice, and you cannot expect me to disturb 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 argu- 
 ment. — But hear ye not the pipes. Captain Waverley? 
 Perhaps you will hke better to dance to them in the 
 hall, than to be deafened with their harmony without tak- 
 ing 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 entertain- 
 ment at the castle of Vich Ian Vohr. Edward at length 
 retired, his mind agitated by a variety of new and con- 
 flicting feehngs, 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 rgpid and confused tide of reflections, than ex- 
 erts ilseir to encounter, systematize, or examine them. 
 At a late lour he fell asleep, and dreamed of Flora Mac- 
 Ivor. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 / Stag-hunting and its Consequences. 
 
 _Sh.' l .. triis be a long or a short chapter ? — This is a 
 question iti which you, gentle reader, have no vote, 
 however much you may be interested in the conse- 
 quences • ;'st as, probably you may (like myself "> have 
 15 h, I.
 
 170 WAVERLEY. 
 
 nothing to do with the imposing a new tax, excepting 
 the trifling circumstance of being obliged to pay it. 
 More happy surely in the present case, since, though it 
 lies within my arbitrary power to extend my materials 
 as 1 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 doc- 
 uments 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, musca- 
 del, malvaise, hippocras, and aquavitae ; with wheat- 
 bread, main-bread, ginge-bread, beef, mutton, lamb, 
 veal, venison, goose, grice, capon, coney, crane, swan, 
 partridge, plover, duck, drake, brissell-cock, pawiiies, 
 black-cock, muir-fowl, and capercailzies ;" not forget- 
 ting the " costly bedding, vaiselle, and napry," and least 
 of all the " excelling stewards, cunning baxters, excel- 
 lent cooks, and pottingars, with confections and drugs for 
 the desserts." Besides the particulars which may be 
 thence gleaned from this Highland feast, (the splendour 
 of which induced the Pope's legate to dissent from an 
 opinion which he had hitherto held, that Scotland name- 
 ly 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, 
 
 " Throug-h heather, mosse, 'mong: frogs, and bogs, and fogs, 
 
 'Mongst crag"gy cliffs and thunder-battered hills, 
 Hares, hinds, bucks, roes, are chased by men and dog's, 
 
 Where two hours hunting fourscore fat deer kills. 
 Lowland, your spons are low as is your seat ; 
 
 The Highland games and minds are high and great." 
 
 But without further tyranny over my readers, or dis- 
 play of the extent of my own reading, I shall contont 
 myself with borrowing a single incident from the mem- 
 orable hunting at Lude, commemorated in the ingen-
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 171 
 
 ious 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 
 periphrastic and ambagitory, and the vulgar the circum- 
 bendibus, will permit me. 
 
 The solemn hunting was delayed, from various caus- 
 es, for about tliree weeks. The interval was spent by 
 Wav^erley with great satisfaction at Glennaquoich ; for 
 the impression which Flora had made on his mind at 
 their first meeting^ grew daily stronger. She was pre- 
 cisely the character to fascinate a youth of romantic 
 imagination. Her manners, her language, her talents 
 for poetry and music, gave additional and varied influ- 
 ence to her eminent personal charms. Even in her 
 hours of gaiety, she was in his fancy exalted above the 
 ordinary daughters of Eve, and seemed only to stoop 
 for an instant to those topics of amusement and gal- 
 lantry which others appear to live for. In the neigh- 
 bourhood 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 be- 
 witching sister. 
 
 At length, the period fixed for the grand hunting ar- 
 rived, 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 kilt,) brogues 
 and bonnet, as the fittest dress for the exercise in 
 which he was to be engaged, and which least ex- 
 posed 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 w^as formally presented, and by all 
 cordially received. Their vassals and clansmen, a parr 
 of whose feudal duty it was to attend upon such parties,
 
 172 
 
 WAVERLEY 
 
 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 tinchel, 
 which, gradually closing, drove the deer in herds to- 
 gether towards the glen where the Chiefs and princi- 
 pal 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 sunrise, the mountain ridges 
 and passes retained their ordinary appearance of si- 
 lence and solitude, and the Chiefs, with their followers, 
 amused themselves with various pastimes, 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 des- 
 cried and heard. Distant shouts resounded from valley 
 to valley, as the various parties of Highlanders, climb- 
 ing 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 narrow 
 circuit. Every now and then the report of muskets was 
 lieard, repeated by a thousand echoes. The baying of 
 the dogs was soon added to the chorus, which grew ever 
 louder and more loud. At length the advanced parties 
 of the deer began to show themselves, and as the strag- 
 glers 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 ad- 
 dress, 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 com- 
 pass, and presenting such a formidable phalanx, that
 
 WAVERLEY 
 
 173 
 
 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, 
 iu a sort of battle array, gazing on the group which bar- 
 red their passage down the glen, the more experienced 
 sportsmen began to augur danger. The work of de- 
 struction, however, now commenced on all sides. Dogs 
 and hunters were at work, and muskets and fusees re- 
 sounded from every quarter. The deer, driven to des- 
 peration, made at length a fearful charge right upon the 
 spot where the more distinguished sportsmen had taken 
 their stand. The word was given in Gaehc to fling them- 
 selves upon their faces; but Waverley,upon whose English 
 ears the signal was lost, had almost fallen a sacrifice to his 
 ignorance of the ancient language in which it was com- 
 municated. 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 thea 
 attempted to rise, but found that he had suffered several 
 very severe contusions, and upon a farther examination 
 discovered that he had sprained his ancle violently. 
 
 This checked the rnirth of the meeting, although the 
 Highlanders, accustomed to such incidents, and prepar- 
 ed for them, had suffered no harm themselves. A wig- 
 wam 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 charac- 
 ters of a leech and a conjuror. He v/as an old smoke- 
 dried Highlander, wearing a venerable grey beard, and 
 having for his sole garment a tartan frock, the skirts of 
 which descended to the knee, and, being undivided in 
 front, made the vestment serve at once for doublet and 
 
 15* VOL. 1.
 
 174 WAVERLEY. 
 
 breeches. He observed great ceremony in approaching 
 Edward ; and though our hero was writhing with pain, 
 would not proceed to any operation which would as- 
 suage 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 Edward, whom pain rendered incapable of 
 expostulation, and who indeed saw no chance of its 
 being attended to, submitted in silence. 
 
 After this ceremony was duly performed, the old 
 Esculapius let Edward blood with a cupping-glass with 
 great dexterity, and proceeded, muttering all the while 
 to himself in Gaelic, to boil upon 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 swelling, 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 
 accompanied. Edward was given to understand, that 
 not one of the ingredients had been gathered except 
 during the full moon, and that the herbalist had, w-hile 
 collecung them, uniformly recited a charm, which, in 
 English, ran thus ; 
 
 Hail to thee, thou holy herb, 
 That sprung on holy ground ! 
 All in the Mount Olivet 
 First v/ert ihou found ; 
 Thou art boot for many a bruise 
 And healest many a wound ; 
 In our Lady's blessed name, 
 I take thee from the ground.
 
 WAYEBLEY. 1 < D 
 
 Edward observed, with some surprise, that even Fer- 
 gus, notwithstanding his knowledge and education, s(H '■:■-■ 
 ed to fall in with the superstitious ideas of his countrymen, 
 either because he deemed it impohtic to affect scepticism 
 on a matter of general belief, or more probably because, 
 hke most men who do not think deeply or accurately on 
 such subjects, he had in his mind a reserve of supersti- 
 tion which balanced the freedom of his expressions and 
 practice upon other occasions. Waverley made no com- 
 mentary, therefore, on the manner of the treatment, but 
 rewarded the professor of medicine with a liberahty be- 
 yond the utmost conception of his wildest hopes. He 
 uttered, on the occasion, so many incoherent blessings 
 in Gaelic and English, that ^lac-Ivor, rather scandalized 
 at the excess of his acknowledgments, cut them short, 
 by exclaiming, C'eud mile mhaUoich ort ! i.e. "A hun- 
 dred thousand 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 se- 
 vere — threw him into a profound, but yet a feverish sleep, 
 which he chiedy 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 blanked by the untoward 
 accident, in which Fergus and all his friends expressed 
 the greatest sympathy, it became a question how to dis- 
 pose 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 belies 
 of Edinburgh in their sedan-chairs, to ten routes in one 
 evening. When Edward was elevated upon their shoul- 
 ders, he could not help beina; gratified with the romantic 
 effect produced by thfr l'reH'<ifi?: np of this sylvan camp.
 
 176 WAVERLEY. 
 
 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 descending the passes which 
 led to the scene of action, the sound of the 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 their 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 cer- 
 emonies of taking leave. At length, his own men being 
 completely assembled and mustered, Mac-Ivor commenc- 
 ed his march, but not towards the quarter from which 
 they had come. He gave Waverley to understand, that 
 the greater part of his followers, now on the field, were 
 bound upon a distant expedition, and that when he had 
 deposited Waverley in the house of a gentleman, who he 
 was sure would pay him every attention, he himself 
 would be under the necessity of accompanying them the 
 greater part of the way, but would lose no time in re- 
 joining his fi-iend. 
 
 Waverley was rather surprised that Fergus had not 
 mentioned this ulterior destination when they set out 
 upon the hunting-party ; but his situation did not admit 
 of many interrogations. The greater part of the clans- 
 men went forward under the guidance of old Ballen- 
 keiroch, and Evan Dhu Maccombich, apparently in high 
 spirits. A few remained for the purpose of escorting 
 the Chieftain, who walked by the side of Edward'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 v/ay, rendered inexpressibly painful, Waverley was 
 hospitably received in the house of a gentleman related 
 to Fergus, who had prepared for him every accommo- 
 dation which the simple habits of living then universal 
 in the Highlands, put in his power. In this person, an
 
 WAVERLEY. 177 
 
 old man about seventy, Edward admired a relic of prim- 
 itive 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, from his own flax, nor did his table, 
 though plentiful, and varied with game and fish, ofier an 
 article but what w^as of native produce. 
 
 Claiming himself no rights of clanship or vassalage, 
 he was fortunate in the alliance and protection of Vich 
 Ian Vohr, and other bold and enterprizing chieftains, who 
 protected him in the quiet unambitious hfe 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 char- 
 ity 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 v/ere ap- 
 plied to the injured limb, and new spells w'ere put in 
 practice. At length, after more solicitude than was per- 
 haps for the advantage of his health, Fergus took fare- 
 well of Waverley for a few days, when, he said, he 
 would return to Tomanrait, and hoped by that time Wa- 
 verley would be able to ride one of the Highland ponies 
 of his host, and in that manner return to Glennaquoich. 
 
 The next day, when his good old host appeared, Ed- 
 ward learned that his friend had departed with dawn, 
 leaving none of his attendants, except Galium Beg, the 
 sort of foot-page who used to attend his person, and who 
 had 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 w^as his only reply. Waver-
 
 178 WAVERLEY- 
 
 ley repeated his question, to which his host answered in 
 a proverb, — 
 
 " What sent the messengers to hell, 
 Was asking that they knew full well." 
 
 He was about to proceed, but Galium Beg said, rather 
 pertly as Edward thought, that " Ta Tighearnach, (i. e. 
 the Chief) did not like ta Sassenagh Duinhe-wassal to 
 be pingled wV mickle speaking, as she was na tat weil." 
 From this Waverley concluded he should disoblige his 
 friend by inquiring at a stranger the object of a journey, 
 w^hich 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 high- 
 est spirits, congratulated Waverley on his progress to- 
 wards recovery, and finding he w^as able to sit upon 
 horseback, proposed their immediate return to Glenna- 
 quoich. Waverley joyfully acceded, for the form of its 
 fair mistress had Hved 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. Waverley's bosom beat thick when they approach- 
 ed the old tower of Ian nan Chaistel, and could distin- 
 guish the fair form of its mistress advancing to meet 
 them. 
 
 Fergus began immediately, w ith his usual high spirits, 
 to exclaim, " Open your gates, incomparable princess, 
 to the wounded Moor Abindarez, whom Rodrigo de 
 Narvez, constable of Antiquera, conveys to your castle ; 
 or open them, if you like it better, to the renowned Mar- 
 quis of Mantua, the sad attendant of his half-slain friend, 
 Baldovinos of the mountain. — Ah, long rest to thy soul,
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 179 
 
 Cervantes ! without quoting thy remnants, how should I 
 frame my language to befit romantic ears !" 
 
 Flora now advanced, and welcoming Waverley with 
 much kindness, expressed her regret for his accident, of 
 which she had already heard 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 to be tears of devotion or 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 Tully-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 tbe north of the Tweed. 
 
 Both gentlemen retired to examine their despatches, 
 and Edward speedily found that those which he had re- 
 ceived contained matters of \ery deep interest. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 JVews 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
 
 180 WAVERLEY. 
 
 mentioned persons of rank in Scotland to whom he could 
 wish his son should pay some attention ; but Waverley, 
 hitherto occupied by the amusements which he had found 
 at Tully-Veolan and Glennaquoich, dispensed with pay- 
 ing 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 burthen 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 insure his 
 son's obtaining the most rapid promotion, should he re- 
 main in the military service. Sir Everard's letters were 
 of a different tenor. They were short ; for the good 
 Baronet was none of yonr illimitable correspondents, 
 whose manuscript overflows the folds of their large post 
 paper, and leaves no room for the seal ; but they were 
 kind and affectionate, and seldom concluded without some 
 allusion to our hero's steed, 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 Rr.chael charged him to remember his principles 
 of reli2;ion, to take care of his health, to beware of 
 Scotch mists, which, she had heard, would wet an Eng- 
 lishman to the skin ; never to go out at night without his 
 great-coat ; and, above all, to wear flannel near his skin. 
 Mr. Pembroke only wrote to our hero one letter, but 
 it was of the bulk of six epistles of these degenerate 
 days, containing, in the moderate compass of ten folio 
 pages, closely written, a precis of a supplementary quarto 
 manuscript of addenda delenda, et corrigenda, in refer- 
 ence 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 opportunity of sending down the volume itself, 
 which was much too heavy for the post, and which he 
 proposed to accompany with certain interesting pam-' 
 phlets, lately published by his friend in Little-Britain, 
 with whom he had kept up a sort of literary correspon- 
 dence, in virtue of which the hbrary shelves of Waver-
 
 WAVERLBT. 181 
 
 ley-Honour were loaded with much trash, and a good 
 round bill, seldom summed in fewer than three figures, 
 was yearly transmitted, in which Sir Everard Waverley 
 of Waverley-Honour, Bart, was marked Dr. to .Jona- 
 than Grubbet, bookseller and stationer, Little-Britain. 
 Such had hitherto been the style of the letters which 
 Edward had received from England ; but the packet 
 dehvered to him at Glennaquoich was 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 writ- 
 ten, without a glance into the interior of the British Cab- 
 inet 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 inferior- 
 ity 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 overpowering 
 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 myste- 
 rious demeanour, an attention to the etiquette of business, 
 as well as to its essence, a facility in making long dull 
 speeches, consisting of truisms and common-places, hash- 
 ed up with a technical jargon of office, which prevented 
 the inanity of his orations from being discovered, 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 well, 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, 
 
 16 VOL. I.
 
 182 WAVERLET. 
 
 after sounding Mr. Richard Waverley, were so satisfied 
 witli his sentiments and abihiies, as to propose, that, in 
 case of a certain revolution in the ministry, he 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 
 now enjoyed. There was no resisting so tempting a 
 proposal, notwithstanding 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. Unfortunately, 
 this fair scheme of ambition was blighted in the very, 
 bud, by a premature movement. AW the official gen- 
 tlemen concerned in it, who hesitated to take the part of 
 a voluntary resignation, were informed that the king had 
 no farther occasion for their services ; and, in Richard 
 Waverley's case, which the minister considered as ag- 
 gravated by ingratitude, dismissal was accompanied by 
 something like personal contempt and contumely. The 
 public, and even the party of whom he shared the fall, 
 sympathized little in the disappointment of this selfish 
 and interested statesman ; and he retired to the country 
 under the comfortable reflection, 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 occa- 
 sion 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 burthen 
 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 prin- 
 ciples 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 ven- 
 geance, however vague and impotent, and finally ac- 
 quainted his son with his pleasure that he should testify
 
 WAVERLET. 183 
 
 his sense of the ill treatment he had sustained, by throw- 
 ing up his commission as soon as the letter reached him. 
 This, he said, was also his uncle's desire, 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 recol- 
 lection 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 consequence of 
 his own unsuccessful intrigues, the good, but credulous 
 Baronet, at once set it down as a new and enormous in- 
 stance of the injustice of the existing government. It 
 was true, he said, and he must not disguise it even from 
 Edward, 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 Ever- 
 ard had no doubt that he now both saw and felt the mag- 
 nitude of this error, 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 dis- 
 grace ; 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 op- 
 portunity, 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 Brad- 
 wardine. 
 
 A letter from aunt Rachael spoke out even more plain- 
 1} . She considered the disgrace of brother Richard as 
 the just reward of his forfeiting: his alleg;iance to a lawful,
 
 184 WAVERLEY. 
 
 though exiled sovereign, and taking the oaths to an alien; 
 a concession which her grandfather, Sir Nigel Waverley, 
 refused to make, either to the Round-head ParHament or 
 to Cromwell, when his life and fortune stood in the ut- 
 most 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 usurp- 
 ing 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 punishment." She 
 also concluded with her respects to Mr. Bradwardine, 
 and begged VVaverley 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. Bradwardine took as much 
 Scotch snuff, and danced as unweariedly, as he did when 
 he was at Waverley-Honour about thirty years ago. 
 
 These letters, as might have been expected, highly 
 excited Waverley's indignation. From the desultory 
 style of his studies, he had not any fixed pohtical opinion 
 to place in opposition to the movements of indignation 
 v/hich 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 which his father had been so actively engaged. In- 
 deed, any impressions 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 heshation, 
 into the resentful feehng of the relations who had the 
 best title to dictate his conduct ; and not perhaps the 
 less wilhngly when he remembered the tsedium of his 
 quarters, and the inferior figure which he had made 
 among the officers of his regiment. If he could have 
 had any doubt upon the subject, it would have been de-
 
 vWAVERIiEY. 185 
 
 cided by the following letter from his commanding offi- 
 cer, 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, 1 am reluctantly compelled, at 
 the present crisis, to use the only remaining remedy which 
 is in my power. You are, therefore, hereby command- 
 ed 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. G , Lieut. Col. 
 
 " Commanding the Regt. Dragoons." 
 
 Edward's blood boiled within him as he read this let- 
 ter. 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 discipline 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 any thing occurred, to 
 his knowledge, that should have induced his command- 
 iig officer, without any other warning than the hints we 
 noticed at the end of the fourteenth chapter, so sudden- 
 ly to assume a harsh, and, as Edward deemed it, so inso- 
 lent 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 Wim feel, 
 
 16* VOL. I.
 
 186 WAVERIEY. 
 
 in his present situation, the same pressure of authority 
 which had been exercised in his father's case, and that 
 the whole was a concerted scheme to depress and de- 
 grade every member of the Waverley family. 
 
 Without a pause, therefore, Edward wrote a few cold 
 lines, thanking his heutenant-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 pres- 
 ent crisis, called upon him to lay down his commission ; 
 and he therefore enclosed the formal resignation of a 
 situation which subjected him to so unpleasant a corres- 
 pondence, and requested Colonel G would have 
 
 the goodness to forward it to the proper authorities. 
 
 Having finished this magnanimous epistle, he felt some- 
 what uncertain concerning the terms in which his resig- 
 nation ought to be expressed, upon which subject he re- 
 solved 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 ascendancy 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 ex- 
 tensive knowledge of the world. 
 
 When Edward found his friend, the latter had still in 
 his hand the newspaper which he had perused, and ad- 
 vanced to meet him with the embarrassment of one who 
 has disagreeable news to communicate. *' Do your let- 
 ters. Captain Waverley, confirm the unpleasing informa- 
 tion 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, trans- 
 ferred probably from some London journal. At the 
 end of iiie paragraph was this remarkable inuendo :
 
 WAVERLEY. 187 
 
 " We understand that ' this same Richard who hath 
 done all this,' is not the only example of the Wavering 
 Honour of W-v-r-ly 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 re- 
 corded, " Edward Waverley, captain in regiment 
 
 dragoons, superseded for absence without leave ;" and 
 in the list of military promotions, referring to the same 
 regiment, he discovered this farther article, " Lieut. 
 Julius Butler to be captain, vice Edward Waverley su- 
 perseded." 
 
 Our hero's bosom glowed with the resentment which 
 undeserved and apparently premeditated insult was calcu- 
 lated to excite in the bosom of one who had aspired af- 
 ter honour, and was thus wantonly 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 ab- 
 sence had been literally complied vvith, and without in- 
 quiry, as it seemed, whether Eduard had either receiv- 
 ed his summons, or was disposed to comply with it. 
 The whole, therefore, appeared a formed plan to de- 
 grade him in the eyes of the public ; and the idea of 
 its have 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 indifierent 
 to the wrongs of his friends ; and for Edward, indepen- 
 dent of certain plans with which he was connected, he 
 felt a deep and sincere interest. The proceeding ap- 
 peared as extraordinary to him as it had done to Ed- 
 ward. He indeed knew of more motives than Waver- 
 ley was privy to for the peremptory order that he should 
 join his regiment. But that, without farther inquiry 
 into the circumstances of a necessary delay, the com- 
 manding officer, in contradiction to his known and estab- 
 lished character, should have proceeded in so harsh and
 
 188 WAVEKLEY. 
 
 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. "Will you 
 
 carry a message for me to Colonel G , 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 right- 
 ing 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, G 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 belonging 
 to this government." 
 
 " And am I to sit down quiet and contented under the 
 injury 1 have received ?" 
 
 "That I will never advise my friend. But I would 
 have vengeance to fall on the head, not on the hand ; on 
 the tyrannical and oppressive government which design- 
 ed and directed these premeditated and reiterated in- 
 sults, not on the tools of office which they employed in 
 the execution of the injuries they aimed at you." 
 
 "Upon the government !" 
 
 " Yes, upon the usurping house of Hanover, whom 
 your grandfather would no more have served than he 
 would have taken w^ages of red-hot gold from the great 
 fiend of hell !" ^ 
 
 " But since the time of my grandfather two genera- 
 tions of this dynasty have possessed the throne." 
 
 " True ; — and because we have passively given them 
 so long an opportunity of showing their native charac- 
 ter, — because both you and 1 myself have lived in quiet
 
 "WAVERXET. 189 
 
 submission, have even truckled to the times so far as to 
 accept commissions under them, and thus given them 
 an opportunity of disgracing 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 hues of your favourite poet, — 
 
 Had Richard unconstrain'd resign'd the throfle, 
 A king can give no more than is his own ; 
 The title stood entaii'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 our absence. She will rejoice to hear that vou 
 are relieved of your servitude. But first add a post- 
 script to your letter, marking the time when you receiv- 
 ed this calvinistical Colonel's first summons, and ex- 
 press your regret that the hastiness of his proceedings 
 prevented your anticipating them by sending your resig- 
 nation. Then let him blush for his injustice." 
 
 The letter was sealed accordingly, covering a formal 
 resignation of the commission, and ]Mac-Ivor despatched 
 it with some letters of his own by a special messenger, 
 with charge to put them into the nearest post-office in the 
 Lowlands.
 
 J 90 
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Jin Eclair cissement. 
 
 The hint which the Chieftain had thrown out re- 
 specting FJora was not unpremeditated. He had observ- 
 ed with great satisfaction the growing attachment of Wa- 
 verley 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 array 
 of George H. These obstacles were now removed, and 
 ill a manner which apparently paved the way at least 
 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 insured 
 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 alhance with one of those ancient, pow- 
 erful, and wealthy English famihes of the ancient cava- 
 lier faith, to awaken whose decayed attachment to the 
 Stuart family was now a matter of such vital importance 
 to their cause. Nor could Fergus perceive any obsta- 
 cle to such a scheme. Waverley's attachment was evi- 
 dent ; 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 powser, and those which he had ac- 
 quired in France respecting the disposal of females m 
 marriage, any opposition from his sister, dear as she 
 was to him, would have been the last obstacle on which
 
 WAVERLEY. 191 
 
 he would have calculated, even had the union been less 
 eligible. 
 
 Influenced by these feelings, the Chief now led Wa- 
 verley 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. Dis- 
 guising 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," said she, smihng. 
 " Indeed ! — he has kept his secret well. I hope he 
 will allow me to be his bride's-man." 
 
 " That is a man's office, but not yours, as Beatrice 
 says." 
 
 " And who is the fair lady .'"' 
 
 " Did I not tell you long since, that Fergus wooed no 
 bride but Honour ?" 
 
 " And am I then incapable of being his assistant and 
 counsellor in the pursuit of Honour, Miss Mac-Ivor ?" 
 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 displeased you, solely 
 
 Because you are not of our quality, 
 But stand against us as aji enemy." 
 
 " That time is passed, sister ; and you may wish Ed- 
 ward 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."
 
 19^ W AVE RLE y. 
 
 " Thank God for that !" cried the enthusiast ; " and 
 
 that they may be blind enough to treat every man ot 
 honour who serves them with the same indignity, that 
 
 1 may have less to sigh for when the struggle ap- 
 proaches !" 
 
 " And now, sister, replace his cockade with one of a 
 more lively colour. I think it was the fashion of the 
 ladies of yore to arm and send forth their knights to 
 high achievement." 
 
 " Not till the knight adventurer had well weighed the 
 justice and the danger of the cause, Fergus. Mr. Wa- 
 verley is just now too much agitated by feelings of re- 
 cent emotion, for me to press upon him a resolution of 
 consequence." 
 
 Waverley felt half alarmed at the thought of adopting 
 the badge of what was esteemed rebellion by the ma- 
 jority of the kingdom, yet he could not disguise his cha- 
 grin at the coldness with which Flora parried her broth- 
 er's hint. " Miss Mac-Ivor, I perceive, thinks the 
 kniglit unw^orthy 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 f 
 Most willingly would I enlist every man of honour in the 
 cause to which my brother has devoted himself. But 
 he has taken his measures with his eyes open. His 
 life has been devoted to this cause from his cradle ; 
 with him 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 enter- 
 prize .?" 
 
 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 mediator between the
 
 WAVERtEY. 193 
 
 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 brok- 
 en 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 .'^" 
 
 " Do I not ? — 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 undertaking, beyond consideration of the 
 grand principles of justice and truth, on which our en- 
 terprize 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. 
 Waverley, to induce you to an irretrievable step, of 
 which you have not considered 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 withdraw- 
 ing her hand, " Mr. Waverley will ahvays 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 tbo'isand 
 circumstances 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 condescending friend, 
 who would strengthen me to redeem my errors, my fu- 
 ture life" 
 
 *' Hush, my dear sir ! now you carry your joy at es- 
 caping 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 vvliich I 
 have almost involuntarily expressed ; and, since I have 
 
 17 VOL. I.
 
 194 WAYERLEY. 
 
 broke the barrier of silence, let me profit by my audac- 
 ity — Or may I, with your permission, mention to your 
 brother" 
 
 " Not for the world, Mr. Waverley !" 
 
 " What am I to understand ? Is there any fatal bar 
 — has any prepossession" 
 
 " None, sir. 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 w^eakness you despise me ?" 
 
 " 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 service of the Elector of 
 Hanover in any other light than as a casual acquaint- 
 ance. Permit me then to arrange my ideas upon so un- 
 expected 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 satisfactory 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 mort, 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 have been blight- 
 ed by an evil eye. — Or can it be this silly girl that has
 
 thus blanked your spirit f — Never mind her, dear Ed- 
 ward ; the wisest of her sex are fools in what regards the 
 business of hfe." 
 
 " 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, [ insure you for a louis d'or against 
 the niood lasting four-and-twenty hours. No woman 
 was ever steadily sensible for that period ; and I will 
 engage, if that will please you. Flora shall be as unrea- 
 sonable 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 mihtary preparations. 
 
 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, broad- 
 swords, bonnets, canteens, and tartan hose, that Waver- 
 ley could not for some time draw his attention to any 
 other topic. 
 
 " Are you to take the field so soon, Fergus, 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 rath- 
 er be prejudicial to you." 
 
 " But are you serious in your purpose, with such in- 
 ferior forces, to rise against an established government ? 
 It is mere phrenzy." 
 
 " Laissez faire a Don Antoine — I shall take good 
 care of myself. We shall at least use the compliment
 
 196 
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 of Conan, who never got a stroke but he gave one. I 
 would not, however, have you think me mad enough to 
 stir till a favourable opportunity : 1 will not slip my dog 
 before the game's a-foot. — But, once more, will you 
 join with us, and you shall know all f " 
 
 " How can I ? J, who have so lately held that com- 
 mission which is now posting back to those that gave it. 
 My accepting it implied a promise of fideHty, and an 
 acknowledgment of the legality of the government." 
 
 " A rash promise is not a steel handcuff; it may be 
 shaken off, especially when it was given under decep- 
 tion, 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 will find you 
 a better horse-troop and a better cause than you have 
 lost." 
 
 " But your sister, Fergus ?" 
 
 " Out, hyperbolical fiend ! how vexest thou this man ! 
 — Speakest thou of nothing but of ladies ?" 
 
 " Nay, be serious, my dear friend ; I feel that the 
 happiness of my future life must depend upon the an- 
 swer which Miss Mac-Ivor shall make to what I ventur- 
 ed to tell her this morning." 
 
 " And is this your very sober earnest, or are we in 
 the land of romance and fiction .'^" 
 
 *' My earnest, undoubtedly. How could you suppose 
 me jesting on such a subject.'^" 
 
 " Then, in very sober earnest, 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 f "
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 197 
 
 " My uncle's situation, his general opinions, and his 
 uniform indulgence, entitle me to say, that birth and 
 personal qualities are all he would look to in such a con- 
 nexion. And where can I find both united in such ex- 
 cellence as in your sister f" 
 
 "^ O nowhere ! — cela va sans dire. But your father 
 will expect a father's prerogative in being consulted." 
 
 " Surely ; but his late breach with the ruling powers 
 removes all apprehension of objection on his part, es- 
 pecially as I am convinced that my uncle will be warm- 
 in my cause." 
 
 " Religion perhaps — though we are not bigotted Cath- 
 olics." 
 
 '* My grandmother was of the Church of Rome, and 
 her religion 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, 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 Crom- 
 well 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 ; thgy have 
 been much admired, I assure you. The next point is — 
 I think I saw Flora go up tow^ards the water-fall a short 
 time since — follow, man, follow ! — don't allow the gar- 
 rison time to strengthen its purposes of resistance — 
 Ahrie a la muraille ! Seek Flora out, and learn her 
 decision as soon as you can, and Cupid go w^ith you, 
 while 1 go to look over belts and cartouch-boxes J' 
 
 17* VOL. I.
 
 198 WAVERLEY. 
 
 Wav^erley ascended the glen with an anxious and 
 throbbing heart. Love, with all its romantic train of 
 hopes, fears, and wishes, was mingled with other feelings 
 of a nature less easily defined. He could not but re- 
 member how much this morning had changed his fate, 
 and into what a complication of perplexity it was likely 
 to plunge him. Sunrise had seen him possessed of an 
 esteemed rank in the honourable profession of arms, his 
 father to all appearance 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 must either infer the subversion of the govern- 
 ment 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 f 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 ? — Or, 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 whirl- 
 ed along by^him, the partaker of all his desperate and 
 impetuous motions, renouncing almost tlie power of 
 judging, or deciding upon the rectitude or prudence of 
 his actions, — this was no pleasing prospect for the se- 
 cret 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 
 tiling short of n)ental agony. Pondering the doubtful 
 and dangerous prospect before him, be at length arrived 
 near the cascade, where, as Fergus had augured, he 
 found Flora seated.
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 199 
 
 She was quite alone, and as soon as she observed his 
 approach, she rose and came to meet him. Edward at- 
 tempted to saj^ something within the verge of ordinary 
 comphment and conversation, but found himself unequal 
 to the task. Flora seemed at first equally embarrassed, 
 but recovered herself more speedily, and (an unfavoura- 
 ble augury for Waverley's suit) was the first to enter 
 upon the subject of their last interview. " It is too im- 
 portant, in every point of view, Mr. Waverley, to per- 
 mit me to leave you in doubt upon my sentiments." 
 
 " Do not speak them speedily, unless they are such 
 as I fear from your manner, I must not dare to antici- 
 pate. Let time — let my future conduct — let your broth- 
 er's influence" 
 
 " Forgive me, Mr. Waverley. 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. I should do you the highest injustice 
 did I conceal my sentiments for a moment — I see I dis- 
 tress 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 marriage !" 
 
 " Good God ! But 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, 
 where you even express a favourable opinion of him 
 whom you reject .'^" 
 
 " Mr. Waverley, I have that favourable opinion, and 
 so strongly, that though 1 would rather have been silent 
 upon the grounds of my resolution, you shall commar.d 
 them, if you exact such a mark of my esteem and con- 
 fidence." 
 
 She sat down upon the fragment of a rock, and Wa- 
 verley, placing himself near her, anxiously pressed for 
 the explanation she offered.
 
 200 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 " I dare hardly," she said, " tell you the situation of 
 my feelings, they are so different from those usually as- 
 cribed to young women at my period of Hfe ; and I 
 dare hardly touch upon what I think the nature of yours, 
 lest I should give offence where I would willingly admin- 
 ister 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 impos- 
 sible 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 hfe. 
 Let me but live to see the day of that happy restora- 
 tion, and a Highland cottage, a French convent, or an 
 English palace, will be ahke 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 augmenting your domestic felicity, and re- 
 turning your affection, even to the height of romance. 
 To a man of less keen sensibihty, and less enthusiastic 
 tenderness of disposition. Flora Mac-Ivor might give 
 content, if not happiness ; for, w^ere the irrevocable 
 words spoken, never would she be deficient in the duties 
 which she vowed." 
 
 " And why, — why, Miss Mac-Ivor, should you think 
 yourself a more valuable treasure to one who is less ca- 
 pable 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 sensibili- 
 ty would not require the return of enthusiasm, which I 
 have not to bestow. But you, Mr. Waverlcy, 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 cold- 
 ness and indifference, while you might consider the enthu- 
 siasm with which I regarded the success of the royal fam- 
 ily, as defrauding your affection of its due return."
 
 WAVEBtEY. 201 
 
 " In other words, Miss Mac-Ivor, you cannot love me." 
 
 " I could esteem you, Mr. Waverley, as much, per- 
 haps more, than any man I have ever seen ; but I can- 
 not love you as you ought to beloved. 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 en- 
 hance 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 your- 
 self the person you describe ?" 
 
 " Is it possible you do not yet comprehend me ? 
 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, even 
 advance the interest to which you have devoted your- 
 self ? My family is wealthy and powerful, inclined in 
 principles to the Stuart race, and should a favourable 
 opportunity" 
 
 " A favourable opportunity ! — Inclined in principles ! 
 — Can such lukewarm adherence be honourable to 
 yourselves, or gratifying to your lawful sovereign f — 
 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 triumphing without it !" 
 
 '* Your doubts," quickly replied Waverley, " are un- 
 just, so far as concerns myself. The cause that I shall 
 assert, I dare support through every danger, as undaunt- 
 edly as the boldest who draws sword in it." 
 
 ** Of that," answered Flora, " I cannot doubt for a 
 moment. But consult your own good sense and reason 
 rather than a prepossession hastily adopted, probably 
 only because you have met a young woman possessed of
 
 202 WAVERLEY. 
 
 the usual accomplishments, in a sequestered and roman- 
 tic situation. Let your pait in this great and perilous 
 drama rest upon conviction, and not upon a hurried, and 
 probably a temporary 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, al- 
 though wildly enthusiastic, was generous and noble, ^nd 
 disdained to avail itself of any indirect means of sup- 
 porting 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 enterprize. But do not 
 consent to this ', — you could not, by your single exer- 
 tions, 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 irretrievably. Let me beg 
 you will return to your own country ; and, having pub- 
 hcly freed yourself from every tie to the usurping gov- 
 ernment, I trust you will see cause, and find opportuni- 
 ty, to serve your injured sovereign with effect, and stand 
 forth, as your loyal ancestors, at the head of your nat- 
 ural followers and adherents, a worthy representative of 
 the house of Waverley." 
 
 " And should I be so happy as thus to distinguish ray- 
 self, might I not hope" 
 
 " Forgive my interruption. The present time only is 
 ours, and I can but explain to you with candour the feel- 
 ings 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 hap- 
 piness, there is none which I shall more sincerely pray 
 for than for yours." 
 
 With these words she parted from him, for they were 
 now arrived where two paths separated. Waverley
 
 WAVERIET. 203 
 
 reached the castle amidst a medley of conflicting pas- 
 sions. 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 INIac-Jvor kept open table for his clan, 
 served in some degree to stun reflection. When their 
 festivity was ended, he began to consider how he should 
 again meet Miss Mac-Ivor after the painful and interest- 
 ing explanation of the morning. But Flora did not ap- 
 pear. Fergus, whose eyes flashed when he was told by 
 Cathleen, that her mistress designed to keep her apart- 
 ment that evening, went himself in quest of her ; but 
 apparently his remonstrances were in vain, for he return- 
 ed with a heightened complexion, and manifest symp- 
 toms 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 perhaps of both. 
 
 When retired to his own apartment, Edward endeav- 
 oured to sum 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 circumstances permitted the re- 
 newal 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 ac- 
 knowledged him to possess in her favour, might be im- 
 proved into a warmer attachment ? He taxed his mem- 
 ory to recall every word she had used, with the appro- 
 priate 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.
 
 204 WAVE RLE T. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A Letter from Tully-I^eolan, 
 
 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 Sehna. He 
 imagined himself transported back toTully-Veolan, and 
 that he heard Davie Gellatley singing in the court those 
 matins which used generally lo be the first sounds that 
 disturbed his repose while a guest of the Baron of Brad- 
 wardine. The notes which suggested this vision continu- 
 ed and waxed louder, until Edward awaked 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 ; 
 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. Gel- 
 latley on an excursion of such unwonted extent, Edward 
 began to dress himself 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 or shoon. 
 But we'll a' win the breeks when King Jamie comes hame. 
 
 By the time Waverley was dressed and had issued 
 forth, David had associated himself with two or three 
 of the numerous Highland loungers who always graced
 
 WAVERIET. 205 
 
 the gates of the castle with their presence, and was ca- 
 pering 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 reheved 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 
 did not interrupt David'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 his 
 head, be 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 
 hand-writing, 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 liim. It 
 had originally commenced with. Dear Sir ; but these 
 words had been carefully erased, and the monosyllable, 
 Sir, substituted in their place. The rest of the contacts 
 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 
 feehngs ; — my dear father is gone from this place, and 
 when he can return to my assistance and protection, God 
 alone knows. You have probably heard, that in conse- 
 
 18 VOL. I.
 
 206 WAVERLEY. 
 
 quence of some troublesome news from the Highlands, 
 warrants were sent out for apprehending several gentle- 
 men in these parts, and, among others, my dear father. 
 In spite of all my tears and entreaties that he would sur- 
 render 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 much anxious concerning his imm.ediate 
 safety, as about what may follow afterwards, 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 had escaped, in case you happen to 
 have heard that he was in danger. 
 
 " But the day after my father went off, there came a 
 party of soldiers to Tully-Veolan, and behaved very 
 rudely to BailHe 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 things 
 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 Tully-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 upon your falling 
 into their hands you would be in great danger ; I cannot 
 prevail on myself to write what wicked falsehoods they 
 said, for 1 am sure they are falsehoods ; but you w-iii 
 best judge what you ought to do. The party returned, 
 carried off your servant prisoner, with your two horses, 
 and every thing that you left at Tully-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 milita- 
 ry violence nor fighting among clans permitted, but every 
 thing was done according to an equal law that protected 
 all who were harmless and innocent. I hope you will
 
 WAVERLET. 207 
 
 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 writ- 
 ing ; for Mr. Rubric is fled to his cousin's at the Duch- 
 ran, to be out of danger from the soldiers and the whigs, 
 and Bailhe 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 term- 
 ed improper interference. Farewell, Captain Waverley ! 
 I shall probably never see you more ; for it would be 
 very improper to wish you to call at Tully-Veolan just 
 now, even if these men were gone ; but I will always re- 
 member with gratitude your kindness in assisting so poor 
 a 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 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. Js she not as handsome and accomplish- 
 ed 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 suspicion of govern- 
 ment in consequence of the present stir among the par- 
 tizans of the house of Stuart, seemed only the natural 
 consequence of his political predilections ; but how he 
 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 Glen- 
 naquoich his hosts had respected his engagements with 
 the immediate government, and though enough passed by 
 accidental inuendo that might induce him to reckon the 
 Baron and the Chief among those disaffected gentlemen
 
 208 
 
 WAVERtEY. 
 
 who were still numerous in Scotland, yet until his own 
 connection with the army had been broken off by the 
 resumption of his commission, he had no reason to sup- 
 pose that they nourished any immediate or hostile at- 
 tempts against the present estabhshment. Still he was 
 aware that unless he meant at once to .embrace the pro- 
 posal of Fergus Mac-Ivor, it would deeply concern him 
 to leave this suspicious 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 accessary 
 to the plague of civil war. Whatev^er 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 char- 
 acter of the nation abroad, and its liberties at home. 
 Reason asked, was it w^orth while to disturb a govern- 
 ment so long settled and established, and to plunge a 
 kingdom into all the miseries of civil war, to replace upon 
 the throne the descendants of a monarch by whom it had 
 been wilfully forfeited ? If, on the other hand, his own 
 tinal 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 taken 
 no step to this purpose, as seemed to be falsely insinu- 
 ated, 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 
 anxiety on his account, to express his earnest good wishes 
 for her welfare and that of her father, and to assure her
 
 WAVERLEY. 209 
 
 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 
 scrupulous 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 in- 
 jure it. His departure must be instant. 
 
 With this determination he sought out Fergus, and 
 communicated to him the contents of Rose's letter, with 
 his own resolution instantly to go to Edinburgh, and, 
 seeking out some one or other of those persons of in- 
 fluence to wbom he had letters from his father to put into 
 their hands his exculpation from any charge which might 
 be preferred against him. 
 
 " You run your head into the lion's mouth," answered 
 Mac-Ivor. " You do not know the severity of a gov- 
 ernment harassed by just apprehensions, and a conscious- 
 ness of their own illegality and insecurity. I shall have 
 to dehver you from some dungeon in Stirhng or Edin- 
 burgh Castle." 
 
 " My innocence, my rank, my father's intimacy with 
 
 Lord M , General G , he. will be a sufficient 
 
 protection." 
 
 " You will find the contrary ; these gentlemen will 
 have enough to do about their own matters. Once more,^ 
 will you take the plaid, and stay a little while with me 
 among the mists and the crows, in the bravest cause ever 
 sword was drawn in ?" 
 
 " For many reasons, my dear Fergus, you must hold 
 me excused." 
 
 *' Well then, I shall certainly find you exerting your 
 poetical talents in elegies upon a prison, or your anti- 
 quarixm researches in detecting the Oggam character, or 
 some Punic hieroglyphic upon the key-stones of a va«hj 
 
 18* VOL. I.
 
 210 WAVERLEY. 
 
 curiously arched. Or what say you to un petit pende- 
 ■ment bien JoU, against which awkward ceremony I don't 
 warrant you, should you meet a body of the armed west 
 country whigs ?" 
 
 ** And why should they use me so ?" 
 
 " For a hundred good reasons : 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 f" 
 
 " 1 am." 
 
 " Wilful will do't ; — 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, 1 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." 
 
 " You are right, since go you must, or rather, since go 
 you will : I will 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 yourself, to attend and carry 
 
 Mr. Waverley's baggage as far as (naming a small 
 
 town,) where he can have a horse and guide to Edin- 
 burgh. Put on a Lowland dress, Galium, and see you 
 keep your tongue close, if you would not have me cut 
 it out : Mr. Waverley rides Dermid." Then turning to 
 Edward, " You will take leave of my sister .f^" 
 
 " Surely — that is, if Miss Mac-Ivor will honour me 
 so far." 
 
 " Gathleen, let my sister know Mr. Waverley wishes 
 to bid her farewell before he leaves us. But Rose
 
 -WAVE RLE Y. 211 
 
 Bradwardine, her situation must be thought of — I wish 
 she were here — And why should she not ? — There are 
 but four red-coats at Tully-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 open- 
 ed — It was but Cathleen, with her lady's excuse, and 
 wishes for Captain Waverley's health and happiness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Waverletfs Reception in the Lowlands after his High- 
 land 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 during 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. Confide 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, v/rite letters, and make 
 friends as many and as fast as you can ; there will 
 speedily be unexpected guests on the coast of Suffijlk, 
 or my news from France has deceived me." 
 
 Thus parted the friends ; Fergus returning back to 
 his castle, while Edward, followed by Galium Beg, tli<?
 
 212 WAVERLEY. 
 
 latter transformed from point to point into a Low-country 
 groom, proceeded to the little town of . 
 
 Edward paced on under the painful and yet not alto- 
 gether embittered feehngs which separation and uncer- 
 tainty produce in the mind of a youthful lover. I am 
 not sure if the ladies understand the full value of the in- 
 fluence- of absence, nor do I think it wise to teach it 
 them, lest, like the Clelias and Mandanes of yore, they 
 should resume the humour of sending their lovers to 
 banishment. Distance, in truth, produces in idea the 
 same effect as in real perspective. Objects are softened, 
 and rounded, and rendered doubly graceful ; the harsher 
 and more ordinary points of character are mellowed 
 down, and those by w^hich it is remembered are the more 
 striking outlines that mark sublimity, grace, or beauty. 
 There are mists too in the mental, as well as the nat- 
 ural horizon, to conceal what is less pleasant in distant 
 objects, and there are happy liglits, to stream in full 
 glory upon those points which can profit by brilliant il- 
 lumination. 
 
 Waverley forgot Flora Mac-Jvor's prejudices in her 
 magnanimity, and almost pardoned her indifference to^ 
 wards 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 in 
 the cause of a benefactor, what would be her feelings 
 m favour of the happy individual who should be so for- 
 tunate as to awaken them ? Then came the doubtful 
 question, whether he might not be that happy man,- — 
 a question which fancy endeavoured to answer in the 
 affirmative, by conjuring up all she had said in his 
 praise, with the addition of a comment much more flat- 
 tering than the text warranted. All that was common- 
 place, all that belonged to the every-day world, was 
 melted away and obliterated in those dreams of imagi- 
 nation, 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
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 213 
 
 way of creating a goddess out of a high-spirited, accom- 
 pHshed, 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, that can boast of so much nat- 
 ural 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 hon- 
 our wad not say nothing about Vich Ian Vohr, for ta 
 people were bitter vvhigs, de'il burst tem." 
 
 Waverley assured the prudent page that he would be 
 cautious ; and as he now distinguished, not indeed the 
 ringing of bells, but the tinkhng of something like a 
 hammer against the side of an old mossy, green, invert- 
 ed 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 Gal- 
 ium 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 toward 
 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 
 temporary master, " that it was either ta muckle Sun- 
 day hersel, or ta little government Sunday that they ca'd 
 ta fast." 
 
 Upon alighting at the sign of the Seven-branched 
 Golden Gandlestick, which, for the further delectation of 
 the guests, was graced with a short Hebrew motto, they 
 were received by mine host, a tall thin puritanical figure, 
 who seemed to debate with himself whether he ought to 
 give shelter to those who travelled on such a day. Re-
 
 214 WAVERLEY. 
 
 fleeting, however, in all probability, that he possessed 
 the power of mulcting them for this irregularity, a pen- 
 alty which they might escape by passing into Gregor 
 Duncanson's, at the sign of the Highlander and the 
 Hawick Gill, Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks condescended 
 to admit them into his dwelling. 
 
 To this sanctified person Waverley addressed his re- 
 quest, that he would procure him a guide, with a saddle- 
 horse to carry his portmanteau to Edinburgh. 
 
 " And whar may ye be coming from f" demanded 
 mine host of the Candlestick. 
 
 " I have told you where I wish to go : I do not con- 
 ceive 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 1 cannot enter into ony carnal transactions 
 on sic a day, when the people should be humbled, and 
 the backsliders should return, as worthy Maister Gouk- 
 thrapple said ; and moreover when, as the precious 
 Maister Jabesh Rentowel did weel observe, the land was 
 mourning for covenants burnt, broken, and buried." 
 
 " My good friend, if you cannot let me have a horse 
 and guide, my servant shall seek them elsewhere." 
 
 *' A weel ! Your servant ? — and what for gangs he 
 not forward wi' you himsel f^^ 
 
 Waverley had but very little of a captain of horse's 
 spirit wMthin him — I mean of that sort of spirit which I 
 have been obliged to w^hen I happened, in a mail-coach 
 or dihgence, to meet some mihtary man who has kindly 
 taken upon him the disciphning 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."
 
 WAVERLEY. 215 
 
 Mr. Ebenezer Crulckshanks left the room with some 
 indistinct muttering, but whetiier negative or acquiescent, 
 Edward could not well distinguish. The hostess, a civil, 
 quiet, laborious drudge, came to take his orders for din- 
 ner, but declined to make answer upon the subject of 
 the horse and guide, for the Salique law, it seems, ex- 
 tended to the stables of the Golden Candlestick. 
 
 From a window which overlooked the dark and nar- 
 row court in which Galium Beg dressed the horses after 
 their journey, 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 f " 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 gill 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 pro- 
 pitiation, resumed his scrutiny. 
 
 " Ye'll no hae mickle better whisky than that aboon 
 the Pass r" 
 
 " I am nae frae aboon the Pass." 
 
 " Ye're a Highlandman by your tongue .^" 
 
 " Na, I am but just frae Aberdeen-a-way." 
 
 *' And did your master come frae Aberdeen wi^ you ?** 
 
 " Ay — that's when I left itmysel," answered the cool 
 and impenetrable 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 hande siller, and never grudges ony thing to a poor 
 body, or in the way of a lawing." 
 
 " He wants a guide and a horse frae hence to Edm- 
 burgh ?" 
 
 ** Ay, and ye maun find it him forthwith."
 
 216 "WAVERLET. 
 
 " Ahem ! It will be chargeable." 
 
 ** He cares na for that a boddle." 
 
 '* Aweel, Duncan — Did ye say your name was Dun- 
 can, or Donald f" 
 
 " Na, man — Jamie Jamie Steenson — I telt ye 
 
 before." 
 
 This last undaunted parry altogether foiled Mr. Cruick- 
 shanks, who, though not quite satisfied either with the 
 reserve of the master, or the extreme readiness of the 
 man, was contented to lay a tax upon the reckoning and 
 horsehire, that might compound for his ungratified curios- 
 ity. The circumstance of its being the fast-day was not 
 forgotten in the charge, which, upon the whole, did not, 
 however, amount to much more than double what in fair- 
 ness it should have been. 
 
 Galium Beg soon after announced in person the ratifi- 
 cation of this treaty, adding, " Ta auld deevil was 
 ganging to ride wi' the Duinhe-wassal hersel." 
 
 " That will not be very pleasant, Galium, nor altogeth- 
 er safe, for our host seems a person of great curiosity j 
 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, with which these last words were accom- 
 panied. He hastened, not without a curse upon the in- 
 tricacies of a Saxon breeches pocket, or spleuchan, as 
 he called it, to deposit the treasure in his fob ; and then, 
 as if he conceived the benevolence called for some re- 
 quital 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 
 ikene-occle." 
 
 " Skene-occle ! what's that ?"
 
 WAYERLEY. 217 
 
 Callum 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 Callum'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, Callum, 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 therefore contented himself with enjoining Callum 
 to lay aside all practices against the person of Mr. Eben- 
 ezer Cruickshanks, in which injunction the page seemed 
 to acquiesce with an air of great indifference. 
 
 ** Ta Duinhe-wassal might please himsel ; ta auld 
 rudas loon had never done Callum nae ill. But here's 
 a bit line frae ta Tighearna, tat 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 enterprizing character 
 is so well drawn by Clarendon. He had originally en- 
 gaged in the service of the Parliament, but had abjured 
 that party upon the execution of Charles I., and upon 
 hearing that the royal standard was set up by tlie 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 Cava- 
 liers 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, dex- 
 terity, and spirit, that he safely united his handful of 
 horsemen with the body of Highlanders then in arms. 
 After several months of desultory warfare, in which VVo- 
 
 19 VOL. I.
 
 218 WAVERLET. 
 
 gan's skill and courage gained him the highest reputa- 
 tion, he had the misfortune to be wounded in a danger- 
 ous manner, and no surgical assistance being within 
 reach, he terminated his short but glorious career. 
 
 There were obvious reasons why the politic Chieftain 
 was desirous to place the example of this young hero 
 under the eye of Waverley, with whose romantic dispo- 
 sition it coincided so peculiarly. But his letter turned 
 chiefly upon some trifling commissions which Waverley 
 had promised to execute for him in England, and it was 
 only toward 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 will enclose her verses on the Grave 
 of Wogan. This I know will teaze 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 Enghsh 
 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 wreatii their brows, or shelter 
 their graves. Let me hope for one brilliant exception 
 in a dear friend, to whom I would gladly give a dearer 
 title." 
 
 The verses were inscribed, 
 
 TO AN OAK TREE, 
 
 IS THE CHORCH-YARD OF , IN THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND, SAID 
 
 TO MARK THE GRAVE OF CAPTAIN WOGAN, KILLED IV 1649. 
 
 Emblem of England's ancient faith, 
 
 Full proudly may ihy 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
 
 WAVERLEY. 219 
 
 Above thine honour'd sod to bloom. 
 The flowrets of a milder sky. 
 
 These owe their birth to genial May ; 
 
 Beneath a fiercer sun they pine, 
 Before the winter storm decay — 
 
 And can their \s orth be type of thine ? 
 
 No ! for, mid stoniis of Fate opposing, 
 
 Still higher swell'd thy dauntless heart, 
 And, while Despair the scene was closing. 
 
 Commenced thy brief but brilliant part. 
 
 'Twas then thou songht'st on Albyn's hill, 
 (When England's sons the strife resign'd.) 
 
 A rugged race resisting still. 
 An unsubdued though unrefined. 
 
 Thy death's hour heard no kindred wail, 
 
 No holy knell thy requiem rung ; 
 Thy mourners were the pi aided 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 patriots' brows. 
 As Albyn shadows Wogaa's tomb. 
 
 Whatever might be the real merit of Flora Mac-Ivor's 
 poetry, the enthusiasm which it intimated v/as well cal- 
 culated to make a corresponding impression upon her 
 lover. The lines were read — read again — then depos- 
 ited in Waverley's bosom — then again draw^n 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 beverage. The entrance of Mrs. Cruick- 
 shanks, with the sublunary articles of dinner and wine,
 
 220 WAVERLEY. 
 
 hardly interrupted this pantomime of affectionate enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 At length the tall ungainly figure and ungracious vis- 
 age of Ebenezer presented themselves. The upper 
 part of his form, notwithstanding 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 mount- 
 ing. His thin legs tenanted a pair of gambadoes, fast- 
 ened at the sides with rusty clasps. Thus accoutred, he 
 stalked into the midst of the apartment, and announced 
 his errand in brief phrase : — " Ye're horses are ready." 
 
 " You go with me yourself then, landlord .^" 
 
 " I do, as far as Perth ; where ye may be supphed 
 with a guide to Embro', as your occasions shall require." 
 
 Thus saying, he placed under Waverley's eye the bill 
 v.hich 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 stared at the man's 
 impudence, but, as their connection was to be short, and 
 promised to be convenient, he made no observation upon 
 it ; and, having paid his reckoning, expressed his inten- 
 tion to depart immediately. He mounted Dermid ac- 
 cordingly, 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 struc- 
 ture of masonry erected for the traveller's convenience 
 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 portman- 
 teau 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.
 
 WAVERLET. 221 
 
 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 pharasaical leaven 
 of his countenance, and resolved internally that, in one 
 way or other, the young Englishe?' should pay dearly foi 
 the contempt with which he seemed to regard him. 
 Galium also stood at the gate, and enjoyed, with undis- 
 sembled glee, the ridiculous figure of Mr. Cruickshanks. 
 As Waverley passed him, he pulled off his hat respect- 
 fully, 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 con- 
 cussions occasioned by a hard trot upon a half-paved 
 street. The village of was soon several miles be- 
 hind him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Shows that the Loss of a Horse's Shoe may he a serious 
 Inconvenience. 
 
 The manner and air of Waverley, but, above all, the 
 ghttering contents of his purse, and the indifference with 
 which he seemed to regard them, somewhat overawed 
 his companion, and deterred him from making any at- 
 tempts to enter upon conversation. His own reflectionr; 
 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 interrupted by the annunciation, on the pan 
 of the guide, that his " naig had lost a fore-foot sho?. 
 
 19* VOL. I.
 
 222 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 which, douDtless, his honour would consider it was his 
 part to replace." This was what lawyers call a Jishing 
 question, calculated to ascertain 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 ex- 
 pected that I am to pay for the casuahies whilk may be- 
 fall the puir naig while in your honour's service. — Nath- 
 less 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 Cruick- 
 shanks 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 
 charsjed sixpence each shoe." The most important part 
 of this communication, in the opinion of the speaker, 
 made a very slight impression on the hearer, who only 
 internally wondered what college this veterinary profes- 
 sor 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 distinguished the smith's house. Being also a 
 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 be- 
 tokened none of the Sabbatical silence and repose which 
 Ebenezer had augured from the sanctity of his friend. 
 On the contrary, hammer clashed and anvil rang, the 
 bellows groaned, and the whole apparatus of Vulcan ap- 
 peared to be in full activity. Nor was the labour of a 
 rur:^l and pacific nature. The master smith, benempt, 
 as his sign intimated, John Mucklevvrath, with two assist-
 
 WAVERLEY. 223 
 
 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 as- 
 sembled in groups, with eyes elevated, and hands up- 
 lifted, announced that some extraordinary intelligence 
 was agitating the public mind of the municipality of 
 Cairnvreckan. " There is some news," said mine host 
 of the Candlestick, pushing his lanthern-jawed visage 
 and bare-boned nas; rudely forward into the crowd — 
 *' there is some news, and if it please my Creator, I 
 will forthwith obtain speerings thereof." 
 
 Waverley, with better regulated curiosity than his at- 
 tendant, 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 dishke at 
 applying to a stranger even for casual information, with- 
 out previously glancing at his physiognomy and appear- 
 ance. While he looked about in order to select the per- 
 son with whom he would most willingly hold communi- 
 cation, the buzz around saved him in some degree the 
 trouble of interrogatories. The names of Lochiel, Cian- 
 ronald, Glengary, and other distinguished Highland 
 Chiefs, among whom Vich Ian Vohr was repeatedly 
 mentioned, were as famihar in men's months as house- 
 hold words ; and from the alarm generally expressed, 
 he easily conceived that their descent into the Lowlands, 
 at the head of their armed tribes, had either already 
 taken place, or was instantly apprehended. 
 
 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 vears old, which
 
 224 WAVERLEY. 
 
 she danced in her arras, 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, ye whingeing 
 whig carles f D'ye hear wha's coming to cow yere 
 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-foreboding 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 rantin fule sangs in ? — a time when the wine of 
 wrath is poured out without mixture in the cup of indig- 
 nation, and a day when the land should give testimony 
 against popery and prelacy, and quakerism, and inde- 
 pendency, and supremacy, and eraslianism, and antino- 
 mianism, and a' the errors of the church." 
 
 '* And that's a' your whiggery," re-echoed the virago ; 
 *' that's a' your whiggery, and your presbytery, ye cut- 
 lugged graning carles ! What i d'ye think the lads wi' 
 the kilts will care for yere synods and yere presbyteries, 
 and yere buttock-mail, and yere stool o' repentance f 
 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 mysei " 
 
 Here John Mucklewrath, who dreaded her entering 
 upon a detail of personal experiences, interposed his 
 
 matrimonial authority. " Gae hame, and be d , 
 
 (that I should say sae) and put on the sowens for supper."' 
 
 " And you, ye doii'd dotard," replied his gentle help- 
 mate, her wrath, which had hitherto wandered abroad 
 over the whole assembly, being at once and violently
 
 WAVE RLE Y. 226 
 
 impelled into its natural channel, " ye stand there ham- 
 mering 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 Wa- 
 verley, 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 eager- 
 ness 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 Muckle- 
 wrath. 
 
 " 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 jour- 
 ney 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 ;" '' May 
 be the Chevaher himsel." Such were the surmises that 
 passed hurriedly among them, and there was obviously 
 an increasing disposition to resist Waverley's departure. 
 He attempted to argue mildly w4th them, but his v^olun- 
 tary ally, Mrs. Mucklewrath, broke in upon and drown- 
 ed 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. " Fe'// stop ony 
 gentleman that's the Prince's freend V for she too,
 
 226 WAVERLEY. 
 
 though with other feelings, had adopted the general opin- 
 ion respecting Waverley. " I daur ye to touch him," 
 spreading abroad her long and muscular fingers, garnish- 
 ed 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," quotli the farmer aforesaid ; 
 " it wad better set you to be nursing the gudeman's 
 bairns than to be deaving us here." 
 
 " His bairns .^" retorted the Amazon, regarding her 
 husband with a grin of ineffable contempt — " His bairns ! 
 
 * " O gin ye were dead, gudemein, 
 
 ".' And a green turf on your head, gudeman, 
 
 ^^ Then I wad \\are my vNidowhood 
 
 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. " De'il be 
 in me but I'll put this bet gad down her throat," cried 
 he in an ecstacy 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 endeav- 
 oured to force the termagant out of his presence. 
 
 Waverley meditated a retreat in the confusion, but his 
 horse was no where 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, answer- 
 ed the loud and repeated calls of Waverley for his horse, 
 " Na, na ! if ye are nae friend to kirk and the king, and 
 are detained as siccan a person, ye maun answer to hon- 
 est men of the country for breach of contract ; and I 
 maun keep the naig and the walise for damage and ex- 
 pense, in respect my horse and mysel will lose to-mor- 
 row's day's-wark, besides the afternoon preaching." 
 
 Edward, out of patience, hemmed in and hustled by the 
 rabble on every side, and every moment expecting per-
 
 WAVERLET. 227 
 
 sonal violence, resolved 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 Part- 
 ridge says, that one man with a pistol is equal to a hun- 
 dred unarmed, because, though he can shoot but one of 
 the multitude, yet no one knows but that he himself may 
 be that luckless individual. The levy en masse of Cairn- 
 vreckan 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 enforced, had not the Vulcan of the vil- 
 lage, 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 pres- 
 ence of mind to unsheath 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 upon 
 their fury. 
 
 This worthy man (none of the Goukthrapples or Ren- 
 towels) maintained his character with the common peo- 
 ple, although he preached the practical fruits of Christian 
 faith, as well as its abstract tenets, and was respected by 
 the higher orders, notwithstanding he decHned soothing 
 their speculative errors by converting the pulpit of the 
 gospel into a school of heathen morality. Perhaps it is 
 owing to this mixture of faith and practice in his doc- 
 trine, that, ahhough his memory has formed a sort of 
 era in the annaJs of Cairnvreckan, so that the parishion- 
 ers, 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 evan-
 
 228 WAVERLEY. 
 
 gellc 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, 
 w^as 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 dis- 
 traction. Upon raising up the smith, the first discovery 
 was, that he was alive ; and the next, that he was hkely 
 to live as long as if he had never heard the report of a 
 pistol in his life. He had made a narrow escape, how- 
 ever ; 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 vengeance on the person of Waverley, and 
 with difficulty acquiesced in the proposal of Mr. Morton, 
 that be 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 recom- 
 mended ; even Mrs. Mucklewrath, who had begun to 
 recover from her 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 
 see 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, es- 
 corted by the whole inhabitants of the village, who were 
 not bed-ridden, was conducted to the house of Cairn- 
 vreckan, which was about half a mile distant.
 
 WAYERI^EY 
 
 229 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 An Examination. 
 
 Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, an elderly gen- 
 tleman, who had spent his youth in the mihtary service, 
 received Mr. Morton with great kindness, and our hero 
 with civiHty, 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 despositing in his hands a small sum for the 
 benefit of the wounded person. 
 
 " I could wish, sir," continued the Major, " that my 
 duty terminated 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 com- 
 municated to the magistrate all he knew or suspected, 
 from the reserve of Waverley, and the evasions of Gal- 
 ium 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 suspic- 
 ious and formidable delinquent. He intimated hopes of 
 future reward, and of instant reimbursement for loss of 
 20 VOL. I.
 
 230 AVAVETtLEY. 
 
 time, and even of character, by travelling in the state 
 business upon the fast-day. 
 
 To this Major Melville answered, with great compo- 
 sure, 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 magis- 
 trate 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 opportunity of charging a stranger 
 with double horse-hire ; that, however, feeling himself 
 incompetent to decide singly upon the conduct of a per- 
 son of such importance, he should reserve it for consid- 
 eration of the next quarter-sessions. Now our history 
 for the present saith no more of him of the Candlestick, 
 ■\7ho wended dolorous and mal-content back to his own 
 dwelling. 
 
 ??lajor Melville then commanded the villagers to re- 
 turn to their homes, excepting two, who officiated as 
 constables, and whom he directed to vrait 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 embarrassed pause, till Ma- 
 jor Melville, looking upon Waverley with much compas- 
 bion, 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 neph- 
 
 ^ew of Sir Everard Waverley, of Waverley-Honour ?" 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Young gentleman, 1 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
 
 WAVERLEY. 231 
 
 of absence from your regiment, several weeks ago, un- 
 til the present moment ?" 
 
 " My reply to so general a question must be guided 
 by the nature of the charge which renders it necessary. 
 I request to know what that charge is, and upon what 
 authority I am forcibly detained to reply to it f" 
 
 " 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 capacity, 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 reg- 
 iment, contrary to the express orders of your command- 
 ing 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 f" 
 
 " By one which you must not dispute, or I disobey.'* 
 
 He handed to Waverley a warrant from the Supreme 
 Criminal Court of Scotland, in full form, for apprehend- 
 ing and securing the person of Edward Waverley, Esq. 
 suspected of treasonable practices, and other high crimes 
 and misdemeanours. 
 
 The astonishment which Waverley expressed at this 
 communication was imputed by Major Melville to con- 
 scious guilt, while Mr. ^Morton was rather disposed to 
 construe it into the surprise of innocence unjustly sus- 
 pected. There was something true in both conjectures : 
 for although Edward's mind acquitted him of the crimes 
 with which he was charged, yet a hasty review of his 
 own conduct convinced him he might have great difficulty 
 in establishing 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, 1 must necessarily request to see such papers as 
 you have on your person."
 
 232 WAVERLEY. 
 
 " You shall, sir, without reserve," said Edward, 
 throwing his pocket-hook and memorandums upon the 
 table ; " there is but one with which I could wish you 
 would dispense." 
 
 " I am afraid I can indulge you with no reservation." 
 
 " 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 morn- 
 ing 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 examina- 
 tion, premising, that, as Mr. Waverley seemed to object 
 to general questions, his interrogatories should be as 
 specific as his information permitted. He then proceed- 
 ed in his investigation, dictating, as he went on, the im- 
 port 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 G 's dragoons .^" 
 
 " Certainly ; he was serjeant 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 per- 
 son of his description. I favoured Serjeant Houghton as 
 a clever, active young fellow, and I beheve his fellow- 
 soldiers respected him accordingly." 
 
 " But you used through this man 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
 
 WAVERLET. 233 
 
 their countryman, and serjeant, their spokesman on such 
 occasions." 
 
 " His influence, then, extended particularly over those 
 soldiers who followed you to tlie regiment from your 
 uncle's estate ?" 
 
 " Surely ; — but what is that to the present purpose :" 
 
 " To that I am just coaling, and I beseech your can- 
 did reply. Have you, since leaving the regiment, held 
 any correspondence, direct or indirect, with this Serjeant 
 Houghton ?" 
 
 *' I ! — I hold correspondence with a man of his rank 
 and situation ! — How, or for what purpose r" 
 
 " That you are to explain ; — but did you not for ex- 
 ample, send to him for some books f " 
 
 " You remind me of a trifling commission which I 
 gave him, because my servant could not read. I do re- 
 collect I bade him, by letter, select some books, of which 
 I sent him a list, and send them to me atTulIy-Veolan." 
 
 " And of what description were those books f" 
 
 <* They related almost entirely to elegant hterature : 
 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 offi- 
 ciousness 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 was a Mr. Pembroke, a nonjuring 
 clergyman, the author of two treasonable works, of 
 which the manuscripts were found among your baggage.'^" 
 
 " But of which, I give you my honour as a gentleman, 
 I never read six pages." 
 
 " 1 am not your jud2:e, Mr. Waverley ; your exami- 
 nation v.ill be transmitted elsewhere. And now to pro- 
 ceed — 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,'^ 
 20* VOL. I,
 
 234 WATERLEY. 
 
 " Did you never through such a person, or any other 
 person, communicate with Serjeant Humphry Houghton, 
 instigating him to desert, with as many of his comrades 
 as he could seduce to join him, and unite with the High- 
 landers and other rebels now in arms, under the com- 
 mand of the young Pretender ?" 
 
 " I assure you I am not only entirely guiltless of the 
 plot you have laid to my charge, but J 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 hand of 
 one of those misguided gentlemen who are now in arms 
 against this country, and the verses which it inclosed, I 
 cannot but find some analogy between the enterprize 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 chi- 
 merical. 
 
 *' 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. Brad- 
 wardine, of Bradwardine, also in arms for this unfortu- 
 nate 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 rendez- 
 vous, where, under pretence of a general hunting match, 
 most of the accomplices of his treason were assembled 
 to concert measures for taking arms .^" 
 
 " 1 acknov^^ledge having been at such a meeting ; but 
 I neither heard nor saw any thing which could give it the 
 character you affix to it." 
 
 *' From thence you proceeded, with Glennaquoich 
 and a part of his clan, to join the army of the young
 
 WAVERLEY. 235 
 
 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." 
 
 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 first time,' observed symp- 
 toms which indicated a disposition in the Highlanders to 
 take arms ; but added, that having no inchnation 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 perused the letters of 
 -Richard Waverley, of Sir Everard, and of Aunt Ra- 
 chael, but the inferences he drew from them were differ- 
 ent from what Waverley expected. They held the lan- 
 guage of discontent with government, threw out no 
 obscure hints of revenge, and that of poor Aunt Rachael, 
 which plainly asserted the justice of the Stuart cause, 
 was held to contain the open avowal of what the others 
 only ventured to intimate. 
 
 " Permit me another question, Mr. Waverley. Did 
 you not receive repeated letters from your commanding 
 officer, warning you, and commanding you to return to 
 your post, and acquainting you with the use made of your 
 name to spread discontent through 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 upon to interfere ; 
 and, finally, I had, on the same day in which I observed 
 myself superseded in the Gazette, a second letter from 
 Col. G ', commanding me to join the regiment, an
 
 236 WAVERLEY. 
 
 order which, owing to my absence, ah'eady mentioned 
 and accounted for, I received too late to be obeyed. If 
 there were any intermediate letters, and certainly from 
 
 Colonel G 's high character I think it probable that 
 
 there were, they have never reached me." 
 
 " I have omitted, Mr. Waverley, to inquire after a 
 matter of less consequence, but which has nevertheless 
 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 commis- 
 sion, 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, asl- 
 am informed, the officers of your regiment requested an 
 explanation of such a rumour, as a gentleman and sol- 
 dier, I cannot but be surprised that you did not afford it 
 to them." 
 
 This was too much. Beset and pressed on every 
 hand by accusations, in which gross falsehoods were 
 blended with such circumstances of truth as could not 
 fail to procure them credit. — alone^ unfriended, and in a 
 strange land, Waverley almost gave up his life and hon- 
 our for lost, and leaning his head upon his hand, reso- 
 lutely 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 Waverley's manner. Major 'Melville pro- 
 ceeded composedly to put several other queries to him. 
 *' What does it avail me to answer you ?^^ said Edward sul- 
 lenly. " You appear convinced of my guilt, and wrest 
 every reply I have made to support your own preconceived 
 opinion. Enjoy it 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 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
 
 WAVE RLE T. 
 
 237 
 
 my innocence. There is no reason I should answer a 
 word more." And again he resumed his posture of sul- 
 len and determined silence. 
 
 " Allow me," said the magistrate, " to remind you 
 of one reason that may suggest the propriety of a can- 
 did and open confession. The inexperience of youth, 
 Mr. Waverley, lays it open to the plans of the more de- 
 signing and artful ; and one of your friends at least — I 
 mean Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich — ranks high in the lat- 
 ter class, as, from your apparent ingenuousness, youth, 
 and unacquaintance 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 Vvillingly 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, T must expect you 
 will merit this mediation on my part by a frank and can- 
 did avowal of all that has come to your knowledge upon 
 these heads. In which case, I think I can 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 replied, 
 '* Major Melville, since that is your name, I have hith- 
 erto answered your questions with candour, or declined 
 them with temper, because their import concerned my- 
 self alone. But as you presume to esteem me mean 
 enough to commence informer against others, who re- 
 ceived 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
 
 238 WAVERLEY. 
 
 upon 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 re- 
 course to his snufF-box and his handkerchief. 
 
 " Mr. Waverley," said the Major, " my present situ- 
 ation prohibits me ahke 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 handsome but small room, where, 
 declining all offers of food or wine, he flung himself on 
 the bed, and, stupified by the harassing events and men- 
 tal 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 Amer- 
 ican 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 unimpeached candour and veracity 
 to proceedings which touched the honour and safety of
 
 WAVERLET. 239 
 
 a young Englishman of high rank and family, and the 
 expectant heir of a large fortune. Ev^ery step he knew 
 would be rigorously canvassed, and it was his business 
 to place the justice and integrity of his own conduct be- 
 yond the limits of question. 
 
 When Waverley retired, the Laird and Clergyman of 
 Cairnvreckan sat down in silence to their evening meal. 
 While the servants were in attendance, neither chose to 
 say any thing on the circumstances v.hich occupied their 
 minds, and neither felt at ease to speak upon any other. 
 The youth and apparent frankness of Waverley, stood in 
 strong contrast to the shades of suspicion which darken- 
 ed around him, and he had a sort of naivete and open- 
 ness of demeanour, that seemed to belong to one un- 
 hackneyed 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 experi- 
 ence, 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 some- 
 times unjustly severe. Mr. Morton, on the contrary, 
 had passed from the hterary pursuits of a college, where 
 }ie 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 
 parishoners repaid his affectionate zeal in their behalf, 
 by endeavouring to disguise from him what they knev/ 
 would give him the most acute pain, — their own occa-
 
 240 AVAVERIEY. 
 
 sional transgressions, namely, of the duties which it was 
 the business of his hfe 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 and enhance 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. 1 fear this 
 voun2;ster has brought himself within the compass of a 
 haher." 
 
 " 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, I should hope it might be averted, 
 for aught we have heard to-night." 
 
 " Indeed ! — But, my good parson, you are one of 
 those who would communicate to every criminal the ben- 
 efit of clergy." 
 
 " Unquestionably I would : Mercy and long-suffering 
 are the grounds of the doctrine 1 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
 
 WAVERtEY. 
 
 241 
 
 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 ; — Jus- 
 tice, 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-order- 
 ed government, let him fall a victim to the laws ; but 
 surely youth, misled by the wild visions of chivafry and 
 imaginary loyalty, may plead for pardon." 
 
 " If visionary chivalry and imaginary loyalty come 
 within the predicament of high-treason, I know no court 
 in Christendom, my dear Mr. Morton, where they can 
 sue out their Habeas Corpus." 
 
 " But I cannot see that this youth's guilt is at all es- 
 tablished to my satisfaction." 
 
 *' Because your good nature blinds your good sense. 
 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 
 
 discontented courtier, his tutor a nonjuror, and the au- 
 thor of two treasonable volumes — This youth, I say, 
 
 enters into G '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 prin- 
 ciples they learned at Waverley-Honour, in their disputes 
 with their comrades. To these young men Waverley is 
 unusually attentive ; they are supplied with money be- 
 yond a soldier's wants, and inconsistent with his disci- 
 pline ; and are under the management of a favourite 
 Serjeant, through whom they hold an unusually close 
 communication with their captain, and affect to consider 
 themselves as independent of the other officers, and su- 
 perior to their comrades." 
 
 21 VOL. I.
 
 242 AVAVERLET. 
 
 " All this, my dear Major, is the natural consequence 
 of their attachment to their young landlord, and of their 
 finding tliemselves 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 of the church of England." 
 
 " Well said, parson ! — 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 commission he bore ; 
 
 Colonel G 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 disor- 
 derly, and at length, when the rumour of this unhappy 
 rebellion becomes general, his favourite Serjeant Hough- 
 ton, and another fellow, are detected in correspondence 
 with a French emissary, accredited, as he says, by Cap- 
 tain 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, residmg at Glen- 
 naquoich 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 summonses 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 around him. He 
 returns an absolute refusal, and throws up his commis- 
 sion." 
 
 " He had been already deprived of it."
 
 MAVERLEY 
 
 243 
 
 " But he reg:rets that the measure had anticipated his 
 resignation. His baggage is seized at his quarters, and 
 at Tully-Veolan, and is found to' contain a stock of pes- 
 tilent jacobitical pamphlets, enough to poison a whole 
 country, besides the unprinted lucubrations of his worthy 
 friend aild tutor, Mr. Pembroke." 
 
 " He says he never read them." 
 
 " In an ordinary case I should believe him, for they 
 are as stupid and pedantic in composition as mischievous 
 in their tenets. But can you suppose any thing but value 
 for the principles they maintain, would induce a young 
 man of his age to lug such trash about with him f 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 that old fanatic tell truth, attended by a very suspicious 
 character, and mounted on a horse known to have be- 
 longed to Glennaquoich, and bearing on his person let- 
 ters from his family, expressing high rancour against the 
 house of Brunswick, and a copy of verses in praise of 
 one Wogan, who abjured the service of the Parliament 
 to join the Highland insurgents, w^ien 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 thoQ and do likewise, from that loyal subject, 
 and most safe and peaceable character, Fergus ]\Iac-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 perceived would only harden the magistrate in his 
 opinion, and barely asked how he intended to dispose 
 of the prisoner ? 
 
 " It is a question of some difficulty, considering the 
 state of the country."
 
 244 WATERLEY. 
 
 " 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, 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 insurgents, has declined giving them battle 
 at Corryerick, and marched on northwards, with all the 
 disposable force of government, to Inverness, John-o'- 
 Groat's House, or the Devil, for what I know, leaving 
 the road to the low country open and undefended to the 
 Highland army." 
 
 " Good God ! Is the man a coward, a traitor, or an 
 idiot .?" 
 
 " None of the three, I beheve. He 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 believe," 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 over- 
 awe the disaffected districts. They are now recalled 
 towards Stirling, and a small body comes this way to- 
 morrow or nest 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." 
 
 " GilfiUan, the Cameronian. I wish the young gen- 
 tleman 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 perse- 
 cution without learning mercy." 
 
 " He has only to lodge Mr. Waverley in Stirling Cas- 
 tle ; I will give strict injunctions to treat him well. I
 
 WAVERLEY. 
 
 245 
 
 really cannot devise any better mode for securing him, 
 and I fancy you would hardly advise me to encounter 
 the responsibihty of setting him at liberty." 
 
 " But you will have no objection to my seeing him 
 to-morrow in private f" 
 
 " None certainly ; your loyalty and character are my 
 warrant. But with what view do you make the request r" 
 
 " Simply to make the experiment whether he may 
 not be brought to communicate to rae some circumstan- 
 ces which may hereafter be useful to alleviate, if not to 
 exculpate his conduct." 
 
 The friends now parted and retired to rest, each filled 
 with the most anxious reflections on the state of the 
 country. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIIL 
 
 A Confidant. 
 
 Waverley awoke in the morning, froiiQ 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 delivered 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 jus- 
 tice, 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 Hberty and rights 
 of the subject were less carefully protected. A senti- 
 ment of bitterness rose in his mind against the govern- 
 ment, which he considered as the cause of his embar* 
 rassment and peril, and he cursed internally his scrupulouE 
 
 21* VOL. K
 
 246 
 
 WAVERJLEY. 
 
 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 earhest opportunity to welcome lo 
 Britain the descendant of her ancient kings, and lineal 
 heir of her throne r" Why did not I 
 
 Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, 
 
 And we'come home again discarded faith, 
 
 Seek out Prince Charles, and fall before his feet ? 
 
 All 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 interpre- 
 tation 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 du.Liess, 
 joined to the obscurity of expression which they adopted 
 for the sake of secutity, that has confounded my judg- 
 ment. 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, hke my fore- 
 fathers, for love, for loyalty, and for fame. And now I 
 am here, netted and in the toils, at the disposal of a 
 suspicious, stern, and cold-hearted man, perhaps to be 
 turned over to the solitude of a dungeon, or the infam}' 
 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 sub- 
 jects of contemplation, and very naturally, though not 
 quite so justly, bestowing 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 ;
 
 WAVERLEY. 247 
 
 but he suppressed it upon observing the benevolent and 
 reverend appearance of the clergyman who had rescued 
 him from the immediate violence of the villae:ers. 
 
 " I believe, sir," said the unfortunate young man, 
 " that in 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 m.y anticipation of what I am yet 
 likely to endure, that I can hardly offer you thanks for 
 your interposition." 
 
 Mr. IMorton replied, " that, far from making any claim 
 upon his good opinion, his only wnsh and the sole pur- 
 pose 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 pubhc func- 
 tionary, by which I am not fettered ; nor can I always 
 coincide in opinions which he foruis, perhaps with too 
 little allowance for the imperfections of human nature." 
 He paused, and then proceeded : '' I do not intrude 
 myself on your confidence, Mr. Waverley, for the pur- 
 pose of learning any circumstances, the knowledge 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 zeal- 
 ous agent." 
 
 " You are, sir, I presume, a presbyterian clergyman ?" 
 — Mr. Morton bowed. — " Were I to be guided by tiie 
 prepossessions of education, 1 might distrust your friend- 
 ly professions in ray case ; but I have observed that 
 similar prejudices are nourished in this country against 
 your professional brethren of the episcopal persuasion^ 
 and I am wilHng to believe them equally unfounded in 
 both cases." 
 
 " Evil to him that thinks otherwise," said Mr. Mor- 
 ton ; " or who holds church government and ceremonies 
 as the ^auge of Christian faith or moral virtue."
 
 248 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 ** 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, I find myself unable to explain much of 
 what is charged against me. I know, indeed, that I am 
 innocent, but I hardly see how I can hope to prove my- 
 self so." 
 
 " It is for that very reason, Mr. Waverley, that I ven- 
 ture 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, pre- 
 clude your taking those active steps for recovering intel- 
 ligence, 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 (ew minutes reflection, was con- 
 vinced that his reposing confidence in Mr. Morton, so 
 far as he himself was concerned, 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 
 corresponded in sincerity with the earnestness of his 
 expression, be of some service to himself. He there- 
 fore 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. 
 
 ivir. Morton seemed particularly struck with the ac- 
 count of Waverley's visit to Donald Bean Lean. " I 
 am glad," he said, " you did not mention this circum- 
 ,stance to the Major, it is capable of great misconstruc- 
 tion on the part of those who do not consider the power 
 of curiosity and the influence of romance as motives of 
 youthful conduct. Wlien I was a young man hke you, 
 Mr. Waverley, any such hair-brained expedition (] beg 
 your pardon for the expression) would have had inex- 
 pressible charms for me. But there are mc i in the 
 world who will not believe that danger and fatigue are
 
 WAVERIET. 249 
 
 often incurred without any very adequate cause, and 
 therefore who are sometimes led to assign motives of ac- 
 tion entirely foreign to tlie 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 enter- 
 prize are the common tales of the winter fireside. He 
 certainly possesses talents beyond the rude sphere in 
 which he moves ; and, being neither destitute of ambi- 
 tion nor encumbered with scruples, he will probably at- 
 tempt, by every means, to distinguish himself during the 
 period of these unhappy commotions." — Mr. Morton 
 tlien made a careful memorandum of the various par- 
 ticulars of Waverley's interview with Donald Bean, and 
 the other circumstances which he had communicated. 
 
 The interest which this good man seemed to take in 
 his misfortunes, above all, the full confidence he appeared 
 to repose in his innocence, had the natural eflect of soft- 
 ening Edward's heart, whom the coldness of Major Mel- 
 ville had taught to believe that the world was leagued 
 to oppress him. He shook Mr. ^lorton warmly by the 
 hand, and, assuring him that his kindness and sympathy 
 had relieved his mind of a heavy load, told him, that 
 whatever might 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 interested in 
 the cause for which he had volunteered his services, by 
 observing the genuine and undissembled feelings of his 
 young friend. 
 
 Edward now inquired if ]Mr. Morton knew what was 
 likely to be his destination. 
 
 " Stirling Castle," replied his friend ; " and so far 1 
 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 invol- 
 untarily obhged to intrust the custody of your person to 
 another." 
 
 *' I am glad of it. 1 detest that cold-blooded calcu- 
 lating Scotch magistrate. I hope he and I shall never
 
 250 WAVERLEY. 
 
 meet more : he had neither sympathy with my innocence 
 nor witJ) my wretchedness ; and the petrifying accuracy 
 with which he attended to every form of civility, while 
 he tortured me by his questions, his suspicions, and his 
 inferences, was as tormenting as the racks of the Inqui- 
 sition. 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 Gilfillan, one of the sect 
 who are termed Cameronians." 
 
 " 1 never heard of them before." 
 
 " They claim to represent the more strict and severe 
 presbyterians, who, in Charles Second's and James Sec- 
 ond's days, refused to profit by the Toleration, or Indul- 
 gence, as it was called, which was extendW to others of 
 that religion. They held conventicles ifi'iW*open fields, 
 and, being treated with great violence and Cruelty by the 
 Scottish government, more than once took arms during 
 these reigns. They take their name from their leader, 
 Richard Cameron." 
 
 " I recollect : — but did not the triumph of presbytery 
 at the Revolution extinguish that sect ?" 
 
 " By no means ; that great event fell yet far short of 
 what they proposed, which was nothing less than the com- 
 plete establishment of the church upon the grounds of the 
 old Solemn League and Covenant. Indeed, 1 beheve they 
 scarce knew what they wanted ; but being then a numer- 
 ous body of men, and not unacquainted with the use of 
 arms, they kept themselves together as a separate party 
 in the state, and at the time of the Union had nearly 
 formed a most unnatural league with their old enemies, 
 the Jacobites, to oppose that important national measure. 
 Since that time their 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 call Gifted Gilfillan, 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 toward
 
 AVAVERIEY. 251 
 
 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 the sect, and being of the same fierce disposition, he 
 would pay little regard to the remonstrance of an Eras- 
 tian divine, as he would pohtely 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 
 permission to visit you again in the course of the day." 
 
 ;^;eHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 '"'.. Things mend a little. 
 
 About noon Mr. Morton returned and brought an in- 
 vitation 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 rejoice to see Mr. Waver- 
 ley completely extricated. The truth was, that Mr. 
 Morton's favourable report and opinion had somewhat 
 staggered the preconceptions of the old soldier concern- 
 ing Edward's supposed accession to the mutiny in the 
 regiment ; and in the unfortunate state of the country, 
 the mere suspicion of disaffection, or an inclination to 
 join the insurgent Jacobites, might infer criminality in- 
 deed, but certainly not dishonour. Besides, a person 
 whom the Major trusted, had reported to him a contradic- 
 tion of the agitating news of the preceding evening. 
 According to this second edition of the intelligence, 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 re- 
 concile his information with the well-known abilities of 
 some of the gentlemen in the Highland army, yet it was
 
 252 WAVEBIEY. 
 
 the course which was most likely to be most agreeable to 
 others. He remembered the same policy had detained 
 them in the north in the year 1715, and he anticipated a 
 similar termination to the insurrection, as upon that oc- 
 casion. This news put him in such good humour, that 
 he readily acquiesced in Mr. Morton's proposal to pay 
 some hospitable attention to his unfortunate guest, and 
 voluntarily added, he hoped the whole aiFair 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 Wa- 
 verley'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 pur- 
 pose. He therefore pleaded, that the invitation argued 
 the Major's disbelief of any part of the accusation which 
 was inconsistent with Waverley's conduct as a soldier 
 and man of honour, and that to decline his courtesy 
 might be interpreted into a consciousness that it was un- 
 merited. 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 disHke again to 
 encounter his cold and punctilious civility, Waverley 
 agreed to be guided by his new friend. 
 
 The meeting was stiff and formal enough. But Ed- 
 ward, 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 vivantt 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 hfe was a dream, gave ready 
 way to the predominating impulse, and became the most 
 lively of the party. He had at all times remarkable
 
 WAVERLEY. 253 
 
 natural powers of conversation, though easily silenced 
 by discouragement. 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 unyielding, 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 press- 
 ing 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 
 circumstances which recalled him to his official functions. 
 He rose and went towards the window, which command- 
 ed a very near view of the high-road, and he was follow- 
 ed 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 the slumbering artizans 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 drum- 
 mer, that he protested he could beat any known march 
 or point of war known in the British army, and had ac- 
 cordingly commenced with " Dumbarton's Drums," 
 when he was silenced by Gifted Gilfillan, the command- 
 er of the party, who refused to permit his followers 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 sheep-skin, he was fain to have recourse to the inof- 
 fensive rovv-dow-dow, as a harmless substitute for the 
 sacred music which his instrument or skill were unable 
 to perform. This may be held a trifling anecdote, but 
 the drummer in question was no less than town-drummer 
 of Anderton. I remember his successor in office a mem- 
 ber of that enlightened body, the British Convention : 
 Be his memory, therefore, treated with due respect. 
 22 VOL. I.
 
 254 WAVERLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 A Volunteer Sixty Years Since. 
 
 Upon hearing the unwelcome sound of the drum, 
 Major Melville hastily opened a sashed door, and step- 
 ped out upon a sort of terrace which divided his house 
 from the high-road from which the martial music pro- 
 ceeded. Waverley and his new friend followed him, 
 though probably he would have dispensed with their 
 attendance. They soon recognized in solenm march, 
 first, the performer upon the drum ; secondly, a large 
 flag of four compartments, in which were inscribed the 
 words, Covenant, Kirk, King, Kingdoms. The per- 
 son who was honoured with this charge was followed by 
 the commander of the party, a thin, dark, rigid-looking 
 man, about sixty years old. The spiritual pride, which, 
 in mine host of the Candlestick, mantled in a sort of 
 supercilious hypocrisy, was, in this man's face, elevated 
 and yet darkened by genuine and undoubting fanaticism. 
 It was impossible to behold him without imagination 
 placing him in some strange crisis, where rehgious zeal 
 was the ruling principle. A martyr at the stake, a sol- 
 dier in the field, a lonely and banished wanderer consol- 
 ed by the intensity and supposed purity of his faith under 
 cv^ery 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 deport- 
 ment and discourse, that bordered upon the ludicrous ; 
 so that, according to the mood of the spectator's mind, 
 and the hght under which Mr. Gilfillan presented him- 
 self, one might have feared, admired, or laughed at him. 
 His dress was that of a west country peasant, of better
 
 WAVERLEY. 255 
 
 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 broad- 
 sword and pistols, w^hich, 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 over- 
 brimmed blue bonnet, in answer to the Major, w-ho had 
 courteously raised a small triangular gold-laced hat, 
 Waverley was irresistibly impressed with the idea that he 
 beheld the leader of the Roundheads of yore, in con- 
 ference with one of Marlborough's captains. The group 
 of about thirty armed men who followed this gifted com- 
 mander, was of a motley description. They were in or- 
 dinary Lowland dresses, of different colours, which, 
 contrasted with the arms they bore, gave them an irreg- 
 ular and mobbish appearance, so much is the eye accus- 
 tomed to connect uniformity of dress w^ith the military 
 character. In 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 
 rehgious zeal. Others puffed and strutted, filled with 
 the importance of carrying arms, and all the novelty of 
 their situation, while the rest, apparently fatigued with 
 their march, dragged their Umbs listlessly along, or strag- 
 gled from their companions to procure such refreshments 
 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 expe- 
 rience, " 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 sent to him 
 upon his march, and could undertake the charge of the 
 state prisoner whom he there mentioned, as far as Stir- 
 ling Castle. " Yea," was the concise reply of the 
 Cameronian leader, in a voice which seemed to issue 
 from the very penetralia of his person.
 
 256 WAVERLET. 
 
 " But your escort, Mr. Gilfillan, is not so strong as I 
 
 expected." 
 
 " 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, you did not trust to your refreshing 
 your men at Cairnvreckan ; whatever my house contains 
 is at the command of persons employed in the service," 
 
 " It was not of creature-comforts I spake," answered 
 the Covenanter, regarding Major Melville with something 
 like a smile of contempt ; " hovvbeit, I thank you ; but 
 the people remained waiting upon the precious Mr. Ja- 
 besh Rentowel for the out-pouring of the afternoon ex- 
 hortation." 
 
 " And have you, sir, when the rebels are about to 
 spread themselves through this country, actually left a 
 great part of your command at a field-preaching f" 
 
 Gilfillan again smiled scornfully as he made this indi- 
 rect 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 mihtary discipline 
 upon your march. For example, J would advise you to 
 keep your men more closely together, and that each, in 
 his march, should cover his file-leader, instead of strag- 
 ghng like geese upon a common ; and, for fear of sur- 
 prise, 1 further recommend to you to form a small ad- 
 vance-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 interrupted him- 
 self) — " But as I don't observe you Hsten to me, Mr. 
 Gilfillan, 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 pursu- 
 ed ; but one thing 1 would have you well aware of, that 
 you are to treat this gentleman, your prisoner, with no
 
 WAVERLEY. 257 
 
 rigour or incivility, and are to subject him to no other 
 restraint than is necessary for his security." 
 
 " 1 have looked into my commission," said Mr. Gil- 
 fillan, " subscribed by a worthy and professing nobleman, 
 WiHiam Earl of Glencairn ; nor do I find it therein set 
 down that I am to receive any charges or commands 
 anent my doings from Pvlajor William Melville of Cairn- 
 vreckan." 
 
 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 smile at the 
 same moment. " Mr. Gilfillan," he answered, with 
 some asperity, "I beg ten thousand pardons for interfer- 
 ing 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 differ- 
 ence between Highlanders 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 
 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. MortOji 
 also took an affectionate farewell ; and Waverley having 
 mounted his horse, with a musqueteer 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 little village they were accompanied with 
 the shouts of the children, waro cried out, "^ Eh ! see to 
 the Southland gentleman, that's gaun to be hanged for 
 shooting lang John Mucklewrath the smith !" 
 22* VOL. u
 
 258 WAVE RLE Y. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 An Incident. 
 
 The dinner-hour of Scotland Sixty Years Since >vas 
 two o'clock. It was therefore about four o'clock of a 
 delightful autumn afternoon that Mr. Gilfillan commenc- 
 ed his march, in hopes, although Stirling was eighteen 
 miles distant, he might be able, by becoming a borrower 
 on the night for an hour or two, to reach it that evening. 
 He therefore put forth his strength, and marched stoutly 
 iilong at the head of his followers, eyeing our hero from 
 lime 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 w'as wi' the black coat and the mousted head, that 
 was wi' the Laird of Cairnvreckan ?" 
 
 *' A presbyterian clergyman," answered Waverley. 
 
 " Presbyterian ! 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 ser- 
 mons, without ony sense or savour or life — Ye've been 
 fed in siccan a fauld, belike ?" 
 
 '« No ; I am of the Church of England." 
 
 " And they're just neighbourlike, and nae wonder 
 they gree sae weel. Wha wad hae thought the goodly 
 structure of the Kirk of Scotland, built up by our fath- 
 ers in 1642, wad hae been defaced by carnal ends and 
 the corruptions of the time ; — ay, wha wad hae thought 
 the carved work of the sanctuary would hae been sae 
 soon cut dow^n !"
 
 AVAVERLEY. 259 
 
 To this lamentation, which one or two of the assist- 
 ants chorussed with a deep groan, our hero thought it 
 unnecessary to make any reply. Whereupon Mr. Gil- 
 fillan, 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 ministry and the duty of the day, 
 ministers fail into sinful compliances with patronage, and 
 indemnities, and oaths, and bonds, and other corruptions, 
 is it wonderful, 1 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 saunt-kill- 
 ing times f 1 trow, gin ye w^erena blinded wi' the graces 
 and favours, and services and enjoyments, and employ- 
 ments 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 surphces, 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, 1 trow, ye are deaf as adders 
 upon that side of the head ; ay, ye are deceived with 
 her enchantments, and ye traffic with her merchandize, 
 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 of 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 the exhortation till the party reach- 
 ed 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 Gifted Gilfillan. 
 
 ** A puir pedlar, that's bound for Stirling, and craves 
 the protection of your honour's party in these kittle 
 times. Ah ! your honour has a notable faculty in search- 
 ing and explaining the secret, — ay, the secret and ob-
 
 260 WAVERLET. 
 
 scure,and incomprehensible causes of the backslidings of 
 the land ; ay, your honour touches the root o' the matter." 
 
 " Friend," said Gilfillan, 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 cotters and burghers pull off 
 their bonnets to me as they do to Major Melville o' 
 Cairnvreckan, and ca' me laird, or captain, or honour ; — 
 no, my sma' means, whilk are not aboon twenty thousand 
 mark, have had the blessing of increase, but the pride 
 of my heart has not increased with them ; nor do I de- 
 light to be called captain, though I have the subscribed 
 commission of that gospel-searching nobleman, the Earl 
 of Glencairn, in whilk 1 am so designated. While I live, 
 I am and will be called Habakkuk Gilfillan, who will 
 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 
 Mauchlin — a fertile spot ! your Hues 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 discussion of 
 their excellences, to which our readers will probably be 
 as indifferent as our hero. After this excursion, the 
 leader returned to his theologi'^al discussions, while the 
 pedlar, less profound upon those mystic points, content- 
 ed himself with groaning, and expressing his edification 
 at suitable intervals. " What a blessing it would be to 
 the puir blinded popish nations among whom 1 hae so- 
 journed, to have siccan a light to their paths ! I hae 
 been as far as Muscovia in my sma' trading way, as a 
 travelling merchant ; and I hae been through France, 
 and the Low Countries, and a' Poland, and maist feck o'
 
 WAVERLEY. 261 
 
 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 Sabbath !" 
 
 This set Gilfillan off upon the Book of Sports and 
 the Covenant, and the Engagers, and the Protesters, and 
 the Whiggamores' Raid, and the Assembly of Divines at 
 Westminster, and the Longer and Shorter Catechism, 
 and the Excommunication at Torwood, and the slaugh- 
 ter 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 ex- 
 pected from some other parts of his harangue, and 
 attracted even Waverley's attention, who had hitherto 
 been lost in his own sad reflections. Mr. Gilfillan then 
 considered the lawfulness of a private man standing forth 
 as the avenger of pubHc oppression, and as he was la- 
 bouring with great earnestness the cause of Mas James 
 Mitchell, an incident occurred which interrupted his 
 harangue. 
 
 The rays of the sun were lingering on the very verge 
 of the horizon as the party ascended a hollow and some- 
 what steep path, which led to the summit of a rising 
 ground. The country was unenclosed, 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, httle dingles of stunted brush- 
 wood. 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. Gilfillan, 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 considerable 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 oifence to the rigour of
 
 262 AVAVERLEY. 
 
 his companion, the rather because it appeared to indi- 
 cate inattention to the treasures of theological and con- 
 troversial knowledge which were pouring out for his edifi- 
 cation. He therefore signified gruffly, that he could not 
 waste his time in waiting for a useless cur. 
 
 " But if your honour wad e'en consider the case of 
 Tobit" 
 
 '• Tobit !" exclaimed Gilfillan, 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 hkely," answered the pedlar, with great com- 
 posure ; " but ne'ertheless, I shall take leave to whistle 
 again upon puir Bawty." 
 
 This last signal w^as answered in an unexpected man- 
 ner ; for six or eight stout Highlanders, who lurked 
 among the copse and brushwood, sprung into the hollow 
 way, and began to lay about them with their claymores. 
 Gilfillan, unappalled at this undesirable apparition, cried 
 out manfully, '* The sword of the Lord and of Gideon !" 
 and, drawing his broad-sword, w^ould probably have done 
 as much credit to the good old cause as any of its dough- 
 ty champions 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 instructer in the Cameronian creed, that he 
 was forthwith levelled to the ground. In the confusion 
 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 fallen steed by 
 two Highlanders, w^ho, each seizing him by the arm, 
 hurried him away from the scuffle and from the . high- 
 road. They ran with great speed, half supporting and 
 half dragging our hero, w^ho could however distinguish a 
 few dropping shots fired about the spot which he had 
 left. This, as he afterwards learned, proceeded from
 
 WAVERLEY. 263 
 
 Gilfillan's party, who had now assembled, the stragglers 
 in front and rear havmg joined the others. At then* 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 ex- 
 changed betwixt them and the Westlanders ; but the 
 latter, now without a commander, and apprehensive of a 
 second ambush, did not make any serious effort to re- 
 cover their prisoner, judging it more wise to proceed on 
 their journey to Stirling, carrying with them their 
 wounded captain and comrades. 
 
 END OF VOLUME I.
 
 
 Pw^'i'