WAVERLEY

or

'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE


by SIR WALTER SCOTT BART.




CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION
WAVERLEY or 'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE
NOTES
GLOSSARY



[Note:

Characters that were in italics in the printed text have been
written in capital letters in this Etext. Accents in quotations
in French and other accented languages have been omitted.

Footnotes in the printed text that were at the bottom of the
page have been placed in square brackets, as near as possible
to the place where they were originally referred to by a suffix.

Numbered notes at the end of the book are referred to by the
insertion of references to those notes in square brackets.]




Under which King, Bezonian?  speak, or die!  Henry IV, Part II.


INTRODUCTION--(1829)

The plan of this Edition leads me to insert in this place some
account of the incidents on which the Novel of WAVERLEY is
founded.  They have been already given to the public, by my late
lamented friend, William Erskine, Esq. (afterwards Lord
Kinneder), when reviewing the 'Tales of My Landlord' for the
QUARTERLY REVIEW, in 1817.  The particulars were derived by the
Critic from the Author's information.  Afterwards they were
published in the Preface to the CHRONICLES OF THE CANONGATE.
They are now inserted in their proper place.

The mutual protection afforded by Waverley and Talbot to each
other, upon which the whole plot depends, is founded upon one of
those anecdotes which soften the features even of civil war; and
as it is equally honourable to the memory of both parties, we
have no hesitation to give their names at length.  When the
Highlanders, on the morning of the battle of Preston, 1745, made
their memorable attack on Sir John Cope's army, a battery of four
field-pieces was stormed and carried by the Camerons and the
Stewarts of Appine.  The late Alexander Stewart of Invernahyle
was one of the foremost in the charge, and observing an officer
of the King's forces, who, scorning to join the flight of all
around, remained with his sword in his hand, as if determined to
the very last to defend the post assigned to him, the Highland
gentleman commanded him to surrender, and received for reply a
thrust, which he caught in his target.  The officer was now
defenceless, and the battle-axe of a gigantic Highlander (the
miller of Invernahyle's mill) was uplifted to dash his brains
out, when Mr. Stewart with difficulty prevailed on him to yield.
He took charge of his enemy's property, protected his person, and
finally obtained him liberty on his parole.  The officer proved
to be Colonel Whitefoord, an Ayrshire gentleman of high character
and influence, and warmly attached to the House of Hanover; yet
such was the confidence existing between these two honourable
men, though of different political principles, that while the
civil war was raging, and straggling officers from the Highland
army were executed without mercy, Invernahyle hesitated not to
pay his late captive a visit, as he returned to the Highlands to
raise fresh recruits, on which occasion he spent a day or two in
Ayrshire among Colonel Whitefoord's Whig friends, as pleasantly
and as good-humouredly as if all had been at peace around him.

After the battle of Culloden had ruined the hopes of Charles
Edward, and dispersed his proscribed adherents, it was Colonel
Whitefoord's turn to strain every nerve to obtain Mr. Stewart's
pardon.  He went to the Lord Justice-Clerk, to the Lord-Advocate,
and to all the officers of state, and each application was
answered by the production of a list, in which Invernahyle (as
the good old gentleman was wont to express it) appeared 'marked
with the sign of the beast!'  as a subject unfit for favour or
pardon.

At length Colonel Whitefoord applied to the Duke of Cumberland in
person.  From him, also, he received a positive refusal.  He then
limited his request, for the present, to a protection for
Stewart's house, wife, children, and property.  This was also
refused by the Duke; on which Colonel Whitefoord, taking his
commission from his bosom, laid it on the table before his Royal
Highness with much emotion, and asked permission to retire from
the service of a sovereign who did not know how to spare a
vanquished enemy.  The Duke was struck, and even affected.  He
bade the Colonel take up his commission, and granted the
protection he required.  If was issued just in time to save the
house, corn, and cattle at Invernahyle, from the troops who were
engaged in laying waste what it was the fashion to call 'the
country of the enemy.'  A small encampment of soldiers was formed
on Invernahyle's property, which they spared while plundering the
country around, and searching in every direction for the leaders
of the insurrection, and for Stewart in particular.  He was much
nearer them than they suspected; for, hidden in a cave (like the
Baron of Bradwardine), he lay for many days so near the English
sentinels, that he could hear their muster-roll called, His food
was brought to him by one of his daughters, a child of eight
years old, whom Mrs. Stewart was under the necessity of
entrusting with this commission; for her own motions, and those
of all her elder inmates, were closely watched.  With ingenuity
beyond her years, the child used to stray about among the
soldiers, who were rather kind to her, and thus seize the moment
when she was unobserved, and steal into the thicket, when she
deposited whatever small store of provisions she had in charge at
some marked spot, where her father might find it.  Invernahyle
supported life for several weeks by means of these precarious
supplies; and as he had been wounded in the battle of Culloden,
the hardships which he endured were aggravated by great bodily
pain.  After the soldiers had removed their quarters, he had
another remarkable escape.

As he now ventured to his own house at night, and left it in the
morning, he was espied during the dawn by a party of the enemy,
who fired at and pursued him.  The fugitive being fortunate
enough to escape their search, they returned to the house, and
charged the family with harbouring one of the proscribed
traitors.  An old woman had presence of mind enough to maintain
that the man they had seen was the shepherd.  'Why did he not
stop when we called to him?'  said the soldier.--'He is as deaf,
poor man, as a peat-stack,' answered the ready-witted domestic.
--'Let him be sent for, directly.'  The real shepherd accordingly
was brought from the hill, and as there was time to tutor him by
the way, he was as deaf when he made his appearance, as was
necessary to sustain his character.  Invernahyle was afterwards
pardoned under the Act of Indemnity.

The Author knew him well, and has often heard these circumstances
from his own mouth.  He was a noble specimen of the old
Highlander, far descended, gallant, courteous, and brave, even to
chivalry.  He had been OUT, I believe, in 1715 and 1745; was an
active partaker in all the stirring scenes which passed in the
Highlands betwixt these memorable eras; and, I have heard, was
remarkable, among other exploits, for having fought a duel with
the broadsword with the celebrated Rob Roy MacGregor, at the
Clachan of Balquhidder.

Invernahyle chanced to be in Edinburgh when Paul Jones came into
the Frith of Forth, and though then an old man, I saw him in
arms, and heard him exult (to use his own words) in the prospect
of 'drawing his claymore once more before he died.'  In fact, on
that memorable occasion, when the capital of Scotland was menaced
by three trifling sloops or brigs, scarce fit to have sacked a
fishing village, he was the only man who seemed to propose a plan
of resistance.  He offered to the magistrates, if broadswords and
dirks could be obtained, to find as many Highlanders among the
lower classes, as would cut off any boat's-crew who might be sent
into a town full of narrow and winding passages, in which they
were like to disperse in quest of plunder.  I know not if his
plan was attended to; I rather think it seemed too hazardous to
the constituted authorities, who might not, even at that time,
desire to see arms in Highland hands.  A steady and powerful west
wind settled the matter, by sweeping Paul Jones and his vessels
out of the Frith.

If there is something degrading in this recollection, it is not
unpleasant to compare it with those of the last war, when
Edinburgh, besides regular forces and militia, furnished a
volunteer brigade of cavalry, infantry, and artillery, to the
amount of six thousand men and upwards, which was in readiness to
meet and repel a force of a far more formidable description than
was commanded by the adventurous American.  Time and
circumstances change the character of nations and the fate of
cities; and it is some pride to a Scotchman to reflect, that the
independent and manly character of a country willing to entrust
its own protection to the arms of its children, after having been
obscured for half a century, has, during the course of his own
lifetime, recovered its lustre.

Other illustrations of Waverley will be found in the Notes at the
foot of the pages to which they belong.  [In this etext they are
embedded in the text in square brackets.]  Those which appeared
too long to be so placed are given at the end of the volume.


*


WAVERLEY or 'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE


CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTORY

The title of this work has not been chosen without the grave and
solid deliberation, which matters of importance demand from the
prudent.  Even its first, or general denomination, was the result
of no common research or selection, although, according to the
example of my predecessors, I had only to seize upon the most
sounding and euphonic surname that English history or topography
affords, and elect it at once as the title of my work, and the
name of my hero.  But, alas!  what could my readers have expected
from the chivalrous epithets of Howard, Mordaunt, Mortimer, or
Stanley, or from the softer and more sentimental sounds of
Belmour, Belville, Belfield, and Belgrave, but pages of inanity,
similar to those which have been so christened for half a century
past?  I must modestly admit I am too diffident of my own merit
to place it in unnecessary opposition to preconceived
associations; I have, therefore, like a maiden knight with his
white shield, assumed for my hero, WAVERLEY, an uncontaminated
name, bearing with its sound little of good or evil, excepting
what the reader shall hereafter be pleased to affix to it.  But
my second or supplemental title was a matter of much more
difficult election, since that, short as it is, may be held as
pledging the author to some special mode of laying his scene,
drawing his characters, and managing his adventures.  Had I, for
example, announced in my frontispiece, 'Waverley, a Tale of other
Days,' must not every novel reader have anticipated a castle
scarce less than that of Udolpho, of which the eastern wing had
long been uninhabited, and the keys either lost, or consigned to
the care of some aged butler or housekeeper, whose trembling
steps, about the middle of the second volume, were doomed to
guide the hero, or heroine, to the ruinous precincts?  Would not
the owl have shrieked and the cricket cried in my very title-
page?  and could it have been possible for me, with a moderate
attention to decorum, to introduce any scene more lively than
might be produced by the jocularity of a clownish but faithful
valet, or the garrulous narrative of the heroine's fille-de-
chambre, when rehearsing the stories of blood and horror 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 image forth a profligate abbot, an oppressive duke, a secret
and mysterious association of Rosycrucians and Illuminati, with
all their properties of black cowls, caverns, daggers, electrical
machines, trap-doors, and dark-lanterns?  Or if I had rather
chosen to call my work a 'Sentimental Tale,' would it not have
been a sufficient presage of a heroine with a profusion of auburn
hair, and a harp, the soft solace of her solitary hours, which
she fortunately finds always the means of transporting from
castle to cottage, although she herself be sometimes obliged to
jump out of a two-pair-of-stairs window, and is more than once
bewildered on her journey, alone and on foot, without any guide
but a blowzy peasant girl, whose jargon she hardly can
understand?  Or again, if my WAVERLEY had been entitled 'A Tale
of the Times,' wouldst thou not, gentle reader, have demanded
from me a dashing sketch of the fashionable world, a few
anecdotes of private scandal thinly veiled, and if lusciously
painted, so much the better?  a heroine from Grosvenor Square,
and a hero from the Barouche 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?  I could
proceed in proving the importance of a title-page, and displaying
at the same time my own intimate knowledge of the particular
ingredients 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 the
present 1st November, 1805, I would have my readers understand,
that they will meet in the following pages neither a romance of
chivalry, nor a tale of modern manners; that my hero will neither
have iron on his shoulders, as of yore, nor on the heels of his
boots, as is the present fashion of Bond Street; and that my
damsels will neither be clothed 'in purple and in pall,' like the
Lady Alice of an old ballad, nor reduced to the primitive
nakedness of a modern fashionable at a rout.  From this my choice
of an era the understanding critic may further 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 before
our eyes, and are interesting from their novelty.  Thus the coat-
of-mail of our ancestors, and the triple-furred pelisse of our
modern beaux, may, though for very different 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 description.  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 formality of
an entertainment given Sixty Years since; and thus it will be
readily seen how much the painter of antique or of fashionable
manners gains over him who delineates those of the last
generation.

Considering the disadvantages inseparable from this part of my
subject, I must be understood to have resolved to avoid them as
much as possible, by throwing the force of my narrative upon the
characters and passions of the actors;--those passions common to
men in all stages of society, and which have alike agitated the
human heart, whether it throbbed under the steel corselet of the
fifteenth century, the brocaded coat of the eighteenth, or the
blue frock and white dimity waistcoat of the present day.  [Alas!
that attire, respectable and gentlemanlike in 1805, or
thereabouts, is now as antiquated as the Author of Waverley has
himself become since that period!  The reader of fashion will
please to fill up the costume with an embroidered waistcoat of
purple velvet or silk, and a coat of whatever colour he pleases.]
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 heraldry, 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 broke forth in acts of open and sanguinary
violence against the objects of its fury.  Our malignant
feelings, which must seek gratification through more indirect
channels, and undermine the obstacles which they cannot openly
bear down, may be rather said to be tinctured SABLE.  But the
deep-ruling impulse is the same in both cases; and the proud peer
who can now only ruin his neighbour according to law, by
protracted suits, is the genuine descendant of the baron who
wrapped the castle of his competitor in flames, and knocked him
on the head as he endeavoured to escape from the conflagration.
It is from the great book of Nature, the same through a thousand
editions, whether of black-letter, or wire-wove and hot-pressed,
that I have venturously essayed to read a chapter to the public.
Some favourable opportunities of contrast have been afforded me,
by the state of society in 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 would willingly consider as
the most important part of my plan; although I am sensible how
short these will fall of their aim, if I shall be found unable to
mix them with amusement,--a task not quite so easy in this
critical generation as it was 'Sixty Years since.'



CHAPTER II

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 was
a melancholy day at Waverley-Honour when the young officer parted
with Sir Everard, the affectionate old uncle to whose title and
estate he was presumptive heir.

A difference in political opinions had early separated the
Baronet from his younger brother, Richard Waverley, the father of
our hero.  Sir Everard had inherited from his sires the whole
train of Tory or High-Church predilections and prejudices, which
had distinguished the house of Waverley since the Great Civil
War.  Richard, on the contrary, who was ten years younger, beheld
himself born to the fortune of a second brother, and anticipated
neither dignity nor entertainment in sustaining the character of
Will Wimble.  He saw early, that, to succeed in the race of life,
it was necessary he should carry as little weight as possible.
Painters talk of the difficulty of expressing the existence of
compound passions in the same features at the same moment:  it
would be no less difficult for the moralist to analyse the mixed
motives which unite to form the impulse of our actions.  Richard
Waverley read and satisfied himself, from history and sound
argument, that, in the words of the old song,

  Passive obedience was a jest,
  And pshaw!  was non-resistance;

yet reason would have probably been unable to combat and remove
hereditary prejudice, could Richard have anticipated that his
elder brother, Sir Everard, taking to heart an early
disappointment, would have remained a batchelor at seventy-two.
The prospect of succession, however remote, might in that case
have led him to endure dragging through the greater part of his
life as 'Master Richard at the Hall, the baronet's brother,' in
the hope that ere its conclusion he should be distinguished as
Sir Richard Waverley of Waverley-Honour, successor to a princely
estate, and to extended political connexions as head of the
county interest in the shire where it lay.  But this was a
consummation of things not to be expected at Richard's outset,
when Sir Everard was in the prime of life, and certain to be an
acceptable suitor in almost any family, whether wealth or beauty
should be the object of his pursuit, and when, indeed, his speedy
marriage was a report which regularly amused the neighbourhood
once a year.  His younger brother saw no practicable road to
independence save that of relying upon his own exertions, and
adopting a political creed more consonant both to reason and his
own interest than the hereditary faith of Sir Everard in High
Church and in the house of Stewart.  He therefore read his
recantation at the beginning of his career, and entered life as
an avowed Whig, and friend of the Hanover succession.

The ministry of George the First's time were prudently anxious to
diminish the phalanx of opposition.  The Tory nobility, depending
for their reflected lustre upon the sunshine 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 de Duc, Avignon,
and Italy.  [Where the Chevalier Saint George, or, as he was
termed, the Old Pretender, held his exiled court, as his
situation compelled him to shift his place of residence.] The
accession of the near relation of one of those steady and
inflexible opponents was considered as a means of bringing over
more converts, and therefore Richard Waverley met with a share of
ministerial favour more than proportioned to his talents or his
political importance.  It was however, discovered that he had
respectable talents for public business, and the first admittance
to the minister's levee being negotiated, his success became
rapid.  Sir Everard learned from the public NEWS-LETTER,--first,
that Richard Waverley, Esquire, was returned for the ministerial
borough of Barterfaith; next, that Richard Waverley, Esquire, had
taken a distinguished part in the debate upon the Excise bill in
the support of government; and, lastly, that Richard Waverley,
Esquire, had been honoured with a seat at one of those boards,
where the pleasure of serving the country is combined with other
important gratifications, which, to render them the more
acceptable, occur regularly once a quarter.

Although these events followed each other so closely that the
sagacity of the editor of a modern newspaper would have presaged
the last two even while he announced the first, yet they came
upon Sir Everard gradually, and drop by drop, as it were,
distilled through the cool and procrastinating alembic of DYER'S
WEEKLY LETTER.  [Long the oracle of the country gentlemen of the
high Tory party.  The ancient NEWS-LETTER was written in
manuscript and copied by clerks, who addressed the copies to the
subscribers.  The politician by whom they were compiled picked up
his intelligence at coffee-houses, and often pleaded for an
additional gratuity, in consideration of the extra expense
attached to frequenting such places of fashionable resort.]  For
it may be observed in passing, that instead of those mail-
coaches, by means of which every mechanic at his sixpenny club
may nightly learn from twenty contradictory channels the
yesterday's news of the capital, a weekly post brought, in those
days, to Waverley-Honour, a WEEKLY INTELLIGENCER, which, after it
had gratified Sir Everard's curiosity, his sister's, and that of
his aged butler, was regularly transferred from the Hall to the
Rectory, from the Rectory to Squire Stubbs' at the Grange, from
the Squire to the Baronet's steward at his neat white house on
the heath, from the steward to the bailiff, and from him through
a huge circle of honest dames and gaffers, by whose hard and
horny hands it was generally worn to pieces in about a month
after its arrival.

This slow succession of intelligence was of some advantage to
Richard Waverley in the case before us; for, had the sum total of
his enormities reached the ears of Sir Everard at once, there can
be no doubt that the new commissioner would have had little
reason to pique himself on the success of his politics.  The
Baronet, although the mildest of human beings, was not without
sensitive points in his character; his brother's conduct had
wounded these deeply; the Waverley estate was fettered by no
entail (for it had never entered into the head of any of its
former possessors that one of their progeny could be guilty of
the atrocities laid by DYER'S LETTER to the door of Richard), and
if it had, the marriage of the proprietor might have been fatal
to a collateral heir.  These various ideas floated through the
brain of Sir Everard, without, however, producing any determined
conclusion.

He examined the tree of his genealogy, which, emblazoned with
many an emblematic mark of honour and heroic achievement, hung
upon the well-varnished wainscot of his hall.  The nearest
descendants of Sir Hildebrand Waverley, failing those of his
eldest son Wilfred, of whom Sir Everard and his brother were the
only representatives, were, as this honoured register informed
him (and, indeed, as he himself well knew), the Waverleys of
Highley Park, com. Hants; with whom the main branch, or rather
stock, of the house had renounced all connexion, since the great
lawsuit in 1670.

This degenerate scion had committed a further offence against the
head and source of their gentility, by the intermarriage of their
representative with Judith, heiress of Oliver Bradshawe, of
Highley 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
Clippurse, for whom his groom was dispatched express, arrived but
an hour earlier, he might have had the benefit of drawing a new
settlement of the lordship and manor of Waverley-Honour, with all
its dependencies.  But an hour of cool reflection is a great
matter, when employed in weighing the comparative evil of two
measures, to neither of which we are internally partial.  Lawyer
Clippurse found his patron involved in a deep study, which he was
too respectful to disturb, otherwise than by producing his paper
and leathern ink-case, as prepared to minute his honour's
commands.  Even this slight manoeuvre was embarrassing to Sir
Everard, who felt it as a reproach to his indecision.  He looked
at the attorney with some desire to issue his fiat, when the sun,
emerging from behind a cloud, poured at once its chequered light
through the stained window of the gloomy cabinet in which they
were seated.  The Baronet's eye, as he raised it to the
splendour, fell right upon the central scutcheon, impressed with
the same device which his ancestor was said to have borne in the
field of Hastings; three ermines passant, argent, in a field
azure, with its appropriate motto, SANS LACHE.  'May our name
rather perish,' exclaimed Sir Everard, 'than that ancient and
loyal symbol should be blended with the dishonoured insignia of a
traitorous Roundhead!'

All this was the effect of the glimpse of a sunbeam, just
sufficient to light Lawyer Clippurse to mend his pen.  The pen
was mended in vain.  The attorney was dismissed, with directions
to hold himself in readiness on the first summons.

The apparition of Lawyer Clippurse at the Hall occasioned much
speculation in that portion of the world to which Waverley-Honour
formed the centre:  but the more judicious  politicians of this
microcosm augured yet worse consequences to Richard Waverley from
a movement which shortly followed his apostasy.  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 unfortunately determined him in favour of Lady Emily,
the youngest, who received his attentions with an embarrassment
which showed at once that she durst not decline them, and that
they afforded her anything but pleasure.

Sir Everard could not but perceive something uncommon in the
restrained emotions which the young lady testified at the
advances he hazarded; but, assured by the prudent Countess that
they were the natural effects of a retired education, 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 revealed to the wealthy suitor that Lady
Emily's affections were fixed upon a young soldier of fortune, a
near relation of her own.  Sir Everard manifested great emotion
on receiving this intelligence, which was confirmed to him, in a
private interview, by the young lady herself, although under the
most dreadful apprehensions of her father's indignation.

Honour and generosity were hereditary attributes of the house of
Waverley.  With a grace and delicacy worthy the hero of a
romance, Sir Everard withdrew his claim to the hand of Lady
Emily.  He had even, before leaving Blandeville Castle, the
address to extort from her father a consent to her union with the
object of her choice.  What arguments he used on this point
cannot exactly be known, for Sir Everard was never supposed
strong in the powers of persuasion; but the young officer,
immediately after this transaction, rose in the army with a
rapidity far surpassing the usual pace of unpatronized
professional merit, although, to outward appearance, 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 courtship did not quite suit the
dignified indolence of his habits; he had but just escaped the
risk of marrying a woman who could never love him; and his pride
could not be greatly flattered by the termination of his amour,
even if his heart had not suffered.  The result of the whole
matter was his return to Waverley-Honour without any transfer of
his affections, notwithstanding the sighs and languishments of
the fair tell-tale, who had revealed, in mere sisterly affection,
the secret of Lady Emily's attachment, and in despite of the
nods, winks, and innuendoes of the officious lady mother, and the
grave eulogiums which the Earl pronounced successively on the
prudence, and good sense, and admirable dispositions, of his
first, second, third, fourth, and fifth daughters.  The memory of
his unsuccessful amour was with Sir Everard, as with many more of
his temper, at once shy, proud, sensitive, and indolent, a beacon
against exposing himself to similar mortification, pain, and
fruitless exertion for the time to come.  He continued to live at
Waverley-Honour in the style of an old English gentleman, of an
ancient descent and opulent fortune.  His sister, Miss Rachel
Waverley, presided at his table; and they became, by degrees, an
old bachelor and an ancient maiden lady, the gentlest and kindest
of the votaries of celibacy.

The vehemence of Sir Everard's resentment against his brother was
but short-lived; yet his dislike to the Whig and the placeman,
though unable to stimulate him to resume any active measures
prejudicial to Richard's interest in the succession to the family
estate, continued to maintain the coldness between them.  Richard
knew enough of the world, and of his brother's temper, to believe
that by any ill-considered or precipitate advances on his part,
he might turn passive dislike into a more active principle.  It
was accident, therefore, which at length occasioned a renewal of
their intercourse.  Richard had married a young woman of rank, by
whose family interest and private fortune he hoped to advance his
career.  In her right, he became possessor of a manor of some
value, at the distance of a few miles from Waverley-Honour.

Little Edward, the hero of our tale, then in his fifth year, was
their only child.  It chanced that the infant with his maid had
strayed one morning to a mile's distance from the avenue of
Brere-wood Lodge, his father's seat.  Their attention was
attracted by a carriage drawn by six stately long-failed black
horses, and with as much carving and gilding as would have done
honour to my lord mayor's.  It was waiting for the owner, who was
at a little distance inspecting the progress of a half-built
farm-house.  I know not whether the boy's nurse had been a Welsh
or a Scotch woman, or in what manner he associated a shield
emblazoned with three ermines with the idea of personal property,
but he no sooner beheld this family emblem, than he stoutly
determined on vindicating his right to the splendid vehicle on
which it was displayed.  The Baronet arrived while the boy's maid
was in vain endeavouring to make him desist from his
determination to appropriate the gilded coach and six.  The
rencontre was at a happy moment for Edward, as his uncle had been
just eyeing wistfully, with 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 sacred as either Garter or Blue Mantle,
Providence seemed to have granted to him the very object best
calculated to fill up the void in his hopes and affections.  Sir
Everard returned to Waverley Hall upon a led horse which was kept
in readiness for him, while the child and his attendant were sent
home in the carriage to Brere-wood Lodge, with such a message as
opened to Richard Waverley a door of reconciliation with his
elder brother.

Their intercourse, however, though thus renewed, continued to be
rather formal and civil, than partaking of brotherly cordiality;
yet it was sufficient to the wishes of both parties.  Sir Everard
obtained, in the frequent society of his little nephew, something
on which his hereditary pride might found the anticipated
pleasure of a continuation of his lineage, and where his kind and
gentle affections could at the same time 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 closer intimacy with 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 mutual intercourse was otherwise limited to formal
messages, and more formal visits.  The education of the youth was
regulated alternately by the taste and opinions of his uncle and
of his father.  But more of this in a subsequent chapter.



CHAPTER III

EDUCATION

The education of our hero, Edward Waverley, was of a nature
somewhat desultory.  In infancy, his health suffered, or was
supposed to suffer (which is quite the same thing), by the air of
London.  As soon, therefore, as official duties, attendance on
Parliament, or the prosecution of any of his plans of interest or
ambition, called his father to town, which was his usual
residence for eight months in the year, Edward was transferred to
Waverley-Honour, and experienced a total change of instructors
and of lessons, as well as of residence.  This might have been
remedied, had his father placed him under the superintendence of
a permanent tutor.  But he considered that one of his choosing
would 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 family.  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
improvement 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 take the oaths at the accession of George I, was not only an
excellent classical scholar, but reasonably skilled in science,
and master of most modern languages.  He was, however, old and
indulgent, and the recurring interregnum, during which Edward was
entirely freed from his discipline, occasioned such a relaxation
of authority, that the youth was permitted, in a great measure,
to learn as he pleased, what he pleased, and when he pleased.
This slackness of rule might have been ruinous to a boy of slow
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 would have engaged in field sports from morning
till night.  But the character of Edward Waverley was remote from
either of these.  His powers of apprehension were so uncommonly
quick, as almost to resemble intuition, and the chief care of his
preceptor was to prevent him, as a sportsman would phrase it,
from overrunning his game, that is, from acquiring his knowledge
in a slight, flimsy, and inadequate manner.  And here the
instructor had to combat another propensity too often united with
brilliancy of fancy and vivacity of talent,--that indolence,
namely, of disposition, which can only be stirred by some strong
motive of gratification, and which renounces study as soon as
curiosity is gratified, the pleasure of conquering the first
difficulties exhausted, and the novelty of pursuit at an end.
Edward would throw himself with spirit upon any classical author
of which his preceptor proposed the perusal, make himself master
of the style so far as to understand the story, and if that
pleased or interested him, he finished the volume.  But it was in
vain to attempt fixing his attention on critical distinctions of
philology, upon the difference of idiom, the beauty of felicitous
expression, or the artificial combinations of syntax.  'I can
read and understand a Latin author,' said young Edward, with the
self-confidence and rash reasoning of fifteen, 'and Scaliger or
Bentley could not do much more.'  Alas!  while he was thus
permitted to read only for the gratification of his amusement, he
foresaw not that he was losing for ever the opportunity of
acquiring habits of firm and assiduous application, of gaining
the art of controlling, directing, and concentrating the powers
of his mind for earnest investigation,--an art far more essential
than even that intimate acquaintance with classical learning,
which is the primary object of study.

I am aware I may be here reminded of the necessity of rendering
instruction agreeable to youth, and of Tasso'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 little reason to dread the
consequences of study being rendered too serious or severe.  The
history of England is now reduced to a game at cards,--the
problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles,--and the
doctrines of arithmetic may, we are assured, be sufficiently
acquired, by spending a few hours a week at a new and complicated
edition of the Royal Game of the Goose.  There wants but one step
further, and the Creed and Ten Commandments may be taught in the
same manner, without the necessity of the grave face, deliberate
tone of recital, and devout attention, hitherto exacted from the
well governed childhood of this realm.  It may, in the meantime,
be subject of serious consideration, whether those who are
accustomed only to acquire instruction through the medium of
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 may not thereby be gradually induced to make sport of
their religion.  To our young hero, who was permitted to seek his
instruction only according to the bent of his own mind, and who,
of consequence, only sought it so long as it afforded him
amusement, the indulgence of his tutors was attended with evil
consequences, which long continued to influence his character,
happiness, and utility.  Edward's power of imagination and love
of literature, although the former was vivid, and the latter
ardent, were so far from affording a remedy to this peculiar
evil, that they rather inflamed and increased its violence.  The
library at Waverley-Honour, a large Gothic room, with double
arches and a gallery, contained such a miscellaneous and
extensive collection of volumes as had been assembled together,
during the course of two hundred years, by a family which had
been always wealthy, and inclined, of course, as a mark of
splendour, to furnish their shelves with the current literature
of the day, without much scrutiny, or nicety of discrimination.
Throughout this ample realm Edward was permitted to roam at
large.  His tutor had his own studies; and church politics and
controversial divinity, together with a love of learned ease,
though they did not withdraw his attention at stated times from
the progress of his patron's presumptive heir, induced him
readily to grasp at any apology for not extending a strict and
regulated survey towards his general studies.  Sir Everard had
never been himself a student, and, like his sister Miss Rachel
Waverley, he held the common doctrine, that idleness is
incompatible with reading of any kind, and that the mere tracing
the alphabetical characters with the eye is in itself a useful
and meritorious task, without scrupulously considering what ideas
or doctrines they may happen to convey.  With a desire of
amusement, therefore, which better discipline might soon have
converted into a thirst for knowledge, young Waverley drove
through the sea of books, like a vessel without a pilot or a
rudder.  Nothing perhaps increases by indulgence more than a
desultory habit of reading, especially under such opportunities
of gratifying it.  I believe one reason why such numerous
instances of erudition occur among the lower ranks is, that, with
the same powers of mind, the poor student is limited to a narrow
circle for indulging his passion for books, and must necessarily
make himself master of the few he possesses ere he can acquire
more.  Edward, on the contrary, like the epicure who only deigned
to take a single morsel from the sunny side of a peach, read no
volume a moment after it ceased to excite his curiosity or
interest; and it necessarily happened, that the habit of seeking
only this sort of gratification rendered it daily more difficult
of attainment, till the passion for reading, like other strong
appetites, produced by indulgence a sort of satiety.

Ere he attained this indifference, however, he had read, and
stored in a memory of uncommon tenacity, much curious, though
ill-arranged and miscellaneous information.  In English
literature he was master of Shakespeare and Milton, of our
earlier dramatic authors; of many picturesque and interesting
passages from our old historical chronicles; and was particularly
well acquainted with Spenser, Drayton, and other poets who have
exercised themselves on romantic fiction, of all themes the most
fascinating to a youthful imagination, before the passions have
roused themselves, and demand poetry of a more sentimental
description.  In this respect his acquaintance with Italian
opened him yet a wider range.  He had perused the numerous
romantic poems, which, from the days of Pulci, have been a
favourite exercise of the wits of Italy; and had sought
gratification in the numerous collections of NOVELLE, which were
brought forth by the genius of that elegant though luxurious
nation, in emulation of the DECAMERON.  In classical literature,
Waverley had made the usual progress, and read the usual authors;
and the French had afforded him an almost exhaustless collection
of memoirs, scarcely more faithful than romances, and of romances
so well written as hardly to be distinguished from memoirs.  The
splendid pages of Froissart, with his heart-stirring and eye-
dazzling descriptions of war and of tournaments, were among his
chief 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 understanding.  And yet, knowing much that is known
but to few, Edward Waverley might justly be considered as
ignorant, since he knew little of what adds dignify to man, and
qualifies him to support and adorn an elevated situation in
society.

The occasional attention of his parents might indeed have been of
service, to prevent the dissipation of mind incidental to such a
desultory course of reading.  But his mother died in the seventh
year after the reconciliation between the brothers, and Richard
Waverley himself, who, after this event, resided more constantly
in London, was too much interested in his own plans of wealth and
ambition, to notice more respecting Edward, than that he was of a
very bookish turn, and probably destined to be a bishop.  If he
could have discovered and analysed his son's waking dreams, he
would have formed a very different conclusion.



CHAPTER IV

CASTLE-BUILDING

I have already hinted, that the dainty, squeamish, and fastidious
taste acquired by a surfeit of idle reading, had not only
rendered our hero unfit for serious and sober study, it had even
disgusted him in some degree with that in which he had hitherto
indulged.

He was in his sixteenth year, when his habits of abstraction and
love of solitude became so much marked, as to excite Sir
Everard's affectionate apprehension.  He tried to counterbalance
these propensities, by engaging his nephew in field sports, which
had been the chief pleasure of his own youthful days.  But
although Edward eagerly carried the gun for one season, yet when
practice had given him some dexterity, the pastime ceased to
afford him amusement.

In the succeeding spring, the perusal of old Isaac Walton's
fascinating volume determined Edward to become 'a brother 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 the youthful visionary:
but the neighbourhood was thinly inhabited, and the homebred
young squires whom it afforded, were not of a class fit to form
Edward's usual companions, far less to excite him to emulation in
the practice of those pastimes which composed the serious
business of their lives.

There were a few other youths of better education, and a more
liberal character; but from their society also our hero was in
some degree excluded.  Sir Everard had, upon the death of Queen
Anne, resigned his seat in Parliament, and, as his age increased
and the number of his contemporaries diminished, had gradually
withdrawn himself from society; so that when, upon any particular
occasion, Edward mingled with accomplished and well-educated
young men of his own rank and expectations, he felt an
inferiority in their company, not so much from deficiency of
information, as from the want of the skill to command and to
arrange that which he possessed.  A deep and increasing
sensibility added to this 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 modest, sensitive, and inexperienced youth feels from the
consciousness of having neglected etiquette, or excited ridicule.
Where we are not at ease, we cannot be happy; and therefore it is
not surprising, that Edward Waverley supposed that he disliked
and was unfitted for society, merely because he had not yet
acquired the habit of living in it with ease and comfort, and of
reciprocally giving and receiving pleasure.

The hours he spent with his uncle and aunt were exhausted in
listening to the oft-repeated tale of narrative old age.  Yet
even there his imagination, the predominant faculty of his mind,
was frequently excited.  Family tradition and genealogical
history, upon which much of Sir Everard's discourse turned, is
the very reverse of amber, which, itself a valuable substance,
usually includes flies, straws, 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 Waverley yawned
at times over the dry deduction of his line of ancestors, with
their various intermarriages, and inwardly deprecated the
remorseless and protracted accuracy with which the worthy Sir
Everard rehearsed the various degrees of propinquity between the
house of Waverley-Honour and the doughty barons, knights, and
squires, to whom they stood allied; if (notwithstanding his
obligations to the three ermines passant) he sometimes cursed in
his heart the jargon of heraldry, its griffins, its moldwarps,
its wyverns, and its dragons with all the bitterness of Hotspur
himself, there were moments when these 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 in the evening when the betrothed of his heart had wedded
the hero who had protected her from insult and oppression during
his absence; the generosity with which the Crusader relinquished
his claims, and sought in a neighbouring cloister that peace
which passeth not away; [See Note 1]--to these and similar tales
he would hearken till his heart glowed and his eye glistened.
Nor was he less affected, when his aunt, Mrs. Rachel, narrated
the sufferings and fortitude of Lady Alice Waverley during the
Great Civil War.  The benevolent features of the venerable
spinster kindled into more majestic expression, as she told how
Charles had, after the field of Worcester, found a day's refuge
at Waverley-Honour; and how, when a troop of cavalry were
approaching to search the mansion, Lady Alice dismissed her
youngest son with a handful of domestics, charging them to make
good with their lives an hour's diversion, that the king might
have that space for escape, 'And, God help her,' would Mrs.
Rachel continue, fixing her eyes upon the heroine's portrait as
she spoke, 'full dearly did she purchase the safety of her prince
with the life of her darling child.  They brought him here a
prisoner, mortally wounded; and you may trace the drops of his
blood from the great hall door along the little gallery, and up
to the saloon, where they laid him down to die at his mother's
feet.  But there was comfort exchanged between them; for he knew
from the glance of his mother's eye, that the purpose of his
desperate defence was attained.  Ah!  I remember,' she continued,
'I remember well to have seen one that knew and loved him.  Miss
Lucy St. Aubin lived and died a maid for his sake, though one of
the most beautiful and wealthy matches in this country; all the
world ran after her, but she wore widow's mourning all her life
for poor William, for they were betrothed though not married, and
died in -- 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 where she had been with my grand-uncle, and caused
the carpets to be raised that she might trace the impression of
his blood, and if tears could have washed it out, it had not been
there now; for there was not a dry eye in the house.  You would
have thought, Edward, that the very trees mourned for her, for
their leaves dropped around her without a gust of wind; and,
indeed, she looked like one that would never see them green
again.'

From such legends our hero would steal away to indulge the
fancies they excited.  In the corner of the large and sombre
library, with no other light than was afforded by the decaying
brands on its ponderous and ample hearth, he would exercise for
hours that internal sorcery, by which past or imaginary events
are presented in action, as it were, to the eye of the muser.
Then arose in long and fair array the splendour of the bridal
feast at Waverley Castle; the tall and emaciated form of its real
lord, as he stood in his 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 confusion of the bride; the agony with which Wilibert
observed that her heart as well as consent was in these nuptials;
the air of dignity, yet of deep feeling, with which he flung down
the half-drawn sword, and turned away for ever from the house of
his ancestors.  Then would he change the scene, and fancy would
at his wish represent Aunt Rachel's tragedy.  He saw the Lady
Waverley seated in her bower, her ear strained to every sound,
her heart throbbing with double agony, now listening to the
decaying echo of the hoofs of the king's horse, and when that had
died away, hearing in every breeze that shook the trees of the
park, the noise of the remote skirmish.  A distant sound is heard
like the rushing of a swollen stream; it comes nearer, and Edward
can plainly distinguish the galloping of horses, the cries and
shouts of men, with straggling pistol-shots between, rolling
forwards to the Hall.  The lady starts up--a terrified menial
rushes in--but why pursue such a description?

As living in this ideal world became daily more delectable to our
hero, interruption was disagreeable in proportion.  The extensive
domain that surrounded the Hall, which, far exceeding the
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
course with greyhounds, or to gain an aim at him with the
crossbow.  In one spot, distinguished by a moss-grown Gothic
monument, which retained the name of Queen's Standing, Elizabeth
herself was said to have pierced seven bucks with her own arrows.
This was a very favourite haunt of Waverley.  At other times,
with his gun and his spaniel, which served as an apology to
others, and with a book in his pocket, which perhaps served as an
apology to himself, he used to pursue one of these long avenues,
which, after an ascending sweep of four miles, gradually narrowed
into a rude and contracted path through the cliffy and woody pass
called Mirkwood Dingle, and opened suddenly upon a deep, dark,
and small lake, named, from the same cause, Mirkwood Mere.  There
stood, in former times, a solitary tower upon a rock almost
surrounded by the water, which had acquired the name of the
Strength of Waverley, because, in perilous times, it had often
been the refuge of the family.  There, in the wars of York and
Lancaster, the last adherents of the Red Rose who dared to
maintain her cause, carried on a harassing and predatory warfare,
till the stronghold was reduced by the celebrated Richard of
Gloucester.  Here, too, a party of cavaliers long maintained
themselves under Nigel Waverley, elder brother of that William
whose fate Aunt Rachel commemorated.  Through these scenes it was
that Edward loved to 'chew the cud of sweet and bitter fancy,'
and, like a child among his toys, culled and arranged, from the
splendid yet useless imagery and emblems with which his
imagination was stored, visions as brilliant and as fading as
those of an evening sky.  The effect of this indulgence upon his
temper and character will appear in the next chapter.



CHAPTER V

CHOICE OF A PROFESSION

From the minuteness with which I have traced Waverley's pursuits,
and the bias which these unavoidably communicated to his
imagination, the reader may perhaps anticipate, in the following
tale, an imitation of the romance of Cervantes.  But he will do
my prudence injustice in the supposition.  My intention is not to
follow the steps of that inimitable author, in describing such
total perversion of intellect as misconstrues the objects
actually presented to the senses, but that more common aberration
from sound judgement, which apprehends occurrences indeed in
their reality, but communicates to them a tincture of its own
romantic tone and colouring.  So far was Edward Waverley from
expecting general sympathy with his own feelings, or concluding
that the present state of things was calculated to exhibit the
reality of those visions in which he loved to indulge, that he
dreaded nothing more than the detection of such sentiments as
were dictated by his musings, he neither had nor wished to have a
confidant, with whom to communicate his reveries; and so sensible
was he of the ridicule attached to them, that, had he been to
choose between any punishment short of ignominy, and the
necessity of giving a cold and composed account of the ideal
world in which he lived the better part of his days, I think he
would not have hesitated to prefer the former infliction.  This
secrecy became doubly precious, as he felt in advancing life the
influence of the awakening passions.  Female forms of exquisite
grace and beauty began to mingle in his mental adventures; nor
was he long without looking abroad to compare the creatures of
his own imagination with the females of actual life.

The list of the beauties who displayed their hebdomadal finery at
the parish church of Waverley was neither numerous nor select.
By far the most passable was Miss Sissly, or, as she rather chose
to be called, Miss Cecilia Stubbs, daughter of Squire Stubbs at
the Grange.  I know not whether it was by the 'merest accident in
the world,' a phrase which, from female lips, does not always
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 occasions; 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 adoration; at least, if nature has given that
object any passable proportion of personal charms, he can easily
play the jeweller and Dervise in the Oriental tale, [See
Hoppner's tale of The Seven Lovers.]  and supply her richly, out
of the stores of his own imagination, with supernatural beauty,
and all the properties of intellectual wealth.

But ere the charms of Miss Cecilia Stubbs had erected her into a
positive goddess, or elevated her at least to a level with the
saint her namesake, Mrs. Rachel Waverley gained some intimation
which determined her to prevent the approaching apotheosis.  Even
the most simple and unsuspicious of the female sex have (God
bless them!) an instinctive sharpness of perception in such
matters, which sometimes goes the length of observing
partialities that never existed, but rarely misses to detect such
as pass actually under their observation.  Mrs. Rachel applied
herself with great prudence, not to combat, but to elude, the
approaching danger, and suggested to her brother the necessity
that the heir of his house should see something more of the world
than was consistent with constant residence at Waverley-Honour.

Sir Everard would not at first listen to a proposal which went to
separate his nephew from him.  Edward was a little bookish, he
admitted; but youth, he had always 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 regretted that he had not spent some time in study during
his youth:  he would neither have shot nor hunted with less
skill, and he might have made the roof of St. Stephen's echo to
longer orations than were comprised in those zealous Noes, with
which, when a member of the House during Godolphin's
administration, he encountered every measure of government.

Aunt Rachel's anxiety, however, lent her address to carry her
point.  Every representative of their house had visited foreign
parts, or served his country in the army, before he settled for
life at Waverley-Honour, and she appealed for the truth of her
assertion to the genealogical pedigree, an authority which Sir
Everard was never known to contradict.  In short, a proposal was
made to Mr. Richard Waverley that his son should travel, under
the direction of his present tutor, Mr. Pembroke, with a suitable
allowance from the baronet's liberality.  The father himself saw
no objection to this overture; but upon mentioning it casually at
the table of the Minister, the great man looked grave.  The
reason was explained in private.  The unhappy turn of Sir
Everard's politics, the Minister observed, was such as would
render it highly improper that a young gentleman of such hopeful
prospects should travel on the Continent with a tutor doubtless
of his uncle's choosing, and directing his course by his
instructions.  What might Mr. Edward Waverley's society be at
Paris, what at Rome, where all manner of snares were spread by
the Pretender and his sons--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 Waverley's merits, that if
his son adopted the army for a few years, a troop, he believed,
might be reckoned upon in one of the dragoon regiments lately
returned from Flanders.

A hint thus conveyed and enforced was not to be neglected with
impunity; and Richard Waverley, though with great dread of
shocking his brother's prejudices, deemed he could not avoid
accepting the commission thus offered him for his son.  The truth
is, he calculated much, and justly, upon Sir Everard's fondness
for Edward, which made him unlikely to resent any step that he
might take in due submission to parental authority.  Two letters
announced this determination to the Baronet and his nephew.  The
latter barely communicated the fact, and pointed out the
necessary preparation for joining his regiment.  To his brother,
Richard was more diffuse and circuitous.  He coincided with him
in the most flattering manner, in the propriety of his son's
seeing a little more of the world, and was even humble in
expressions of gratitude for his proposed assistance; was,
however, deeply concerned that it was now, unfortunately, not in
Edward's power exactly to comply with the plan which had been
chalked out by his best friend and benefactor.  He himself had
thought with pain on the boy's inactivity, at an age when all his
ancestors had borne arms; even Royalty itself had deigned to
inquire whether young Waverley was not now in Flanders, at an age
when his grandfather was already bleeding for his king in the
Great Civil War.  This was accompanied by an offer of a troop of
horse.  What could he do?  There was no time to consult his
brother's inclinations, even if he could have conceived there
might be objections on his part to his nephew s following the
glorious career of his predecessors.  And, in short, that Edward
was now (the intermediate steps of cornet and lieutenant being
overleapt with great agility) Captain Waverley, of Gardiner's
regiment of dragoons, which he must join in their quarters at
Dundee in Scotland, in the course of a month.

Sir Everard Waverley received this intimation with a mixture of
feelings.  At the period of the Hanoverian succession he had
withdrawn from Parliament, and his conduct, in the memorable year
1715, had not been altogether unsuspected.  There were reports of
private musters of tenants and horses in Waverley-Chase by
moonlight, and of cases of carbines and pistols purchased in
Holland, and addressed to the Baronet, but intercepted by the
vigilance of a riding officer of the excise, who was afterwards
tossed in a blanket on a moonless night, by an association of
stout yeomen, for his officiousness.  Nay, it was even said, that
at the arrest of Sir William Wyndham, the leader of the Tory
party, a letter from Sir Everard was found in the pocket of his
night-gown.  But there was no overt act which an attainder could
be founded on; and government, contented with suppressing the
insurrection of 1715, felt it neither prudent nor safe to push
their vengeance further than against those unfortunate gentlemen
who actually took up arms.

Nor did Sir Everard's apprehensions of personal consequences seem
to correspond with the reports spread among his Whig neighbours.
It was well known that he had supplied with money several of the
distressed Northumbrians and Scotchmen, who, after being made
prisoners at Preston in Lancashire, were imprisoned in Newgate
and the Marshalsea; and it was his solicitor and ordinary counsel
who conducted the defence of some of these unfortunate gentlemen
at their trial.  It was generally supposed, however, that, had
ministers possessed any real proof of Sir Everard's accession to
the rebellion, he either would not have ventured thus to brave
the existing government, or at least would not have done so with
impunity.  The feelings which then dictated his proceedings, were
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 occasional exercise at elections
and quarter-sessions:  but those respecting hereditary right were
fallen into a sort of abeyance.  Yet it jarred severely upon his
feelings, that his nephew should go into the army under the
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 interfere authoritatively to
prevent it.  This suppressed vexation gave rise to many poohs and
pshaws, which were placed to the account of an incipient fit of
gout, until, having sent for the Army List, the worthy Baronet
consoled 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 grandeur and warlike glory, he concluded, with
logic something like Falstaff's, that when war was at hand,
although it were shame to be on any side but one, it were worse
shame to be idle than to be on the worst side, though blacker
than usurpation could make it.  As for Aunt Rachel, her scheme
had not exactly terminated according to her wishes, but she was
under the necessity of submitting to circumstances; and her
mortification was diverted by the employment she found in fitting
out her nephew for the campaign, and greatly consoled by the
prospect of beholding him blaze in complete uniform.

Edward Waverley himself received with animated and undefined
surprise this most unexpected intelligence.  It was, as a fine
old poem expresses it, 'like a fire to heather set,' that covers
a solitary hill with smoke, and illumines it at the same time
with dusky fire.  His tutor, or, I should say, Mr. Pembroke, for
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 influence of the agitating feelings occasioned
by this sudden page being turned up to him in the book of life.
The doctor, who was a believer in all poetry which was composed
by his friends, and written out in fair straight lines, with a
capital at the beginning of each, communicated this treasure to
Aunt Rachel, who, with her spectacles dimmed with tears,
transferred them to her commonplace book, among choice receipts
for cookery and medicine, favourite texts, and portions from High
Church divines, and a few songs, amatory and jacobitical, which
she had carolled in her younger days, from whence her nephew's
poetical TENTAMINA 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 Mirkwood-Mere's romantic dell,
  The lake returned, in chastened gleam,
  The purple cloud, the golden beam:
  Reflected in the crystal pool,
  Headand and bank lay fair and cool;
  The weather-tinted rock and tower,
  Each drooping tree, each fairy flower,
  So true, so soft, the mirror gave,
  As if there lay beneath the wave,
  Secure from trouble, toil, and care,
  A world than earthly world more fair.

  But distant winds began to wake,
  And roused the Genius of the Lake!
  He heard the groaning of the oak,
  And donned at once his sable cloak,
  As warrior, at the battle-cry,
  Invests him with his panoply:
  Then as the whirlwind nearer pressed,
  He 'gan to shake his foamy crest
  O'er furrowed brow and blackened cheek,
  And bade his surge in thunder speak.
  In wild and broken eddies whirled,
  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 warred the wind with wave and wood.
  Upon the ruined tower I stood,
  And felt my heart more strongly bound,
  Responsive to the lofty sound,
  While, joying in the mighty roar,
  I mourned that tranquil scene no more.

  So, on the idle dreams of youth,
  Breaks the loud trumpet-call of truth,
  Bids each fair vision pass away,
  Like landscape on the lake that lay,
  As fair, as flitting, and as frail,
  As that which fled the Autumn gale.--
  For ever dead to fancy's eye
  Be each gay form that glided by,
  While dreams of love and lady's charms
  Give place to honour and to arms!

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 Rachel, he was induced (nothing loth, if the truth
must be told) to present himself in full uniform.

There is no better antidote against entertaining too 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, jack-boots, and broadsword.  I
know not whether, like the champion of an old ballad,

  His heart was all on honour bent,
  He could not stoop to love;
  No lady in the land had power
  His frozen heart to move;

or whether the deep and flaming bars of embroidered gold, which
now fenced his breast, defied the artillery of Cecilia's eyes;
but every arrow was launched at him in vain.

  Yet did I mark where Cupid's shaft did light;
  It lighted not on little western flower,
  But on bold yeoman, flower of all the west,
  Hight Jonas Culbertfield, the steward's son.

Craving pardon for my heroics (which I am unable in certain cases
to resist giving way to), it is a melancholy fact, that my
history must here take leave of the fair Cecilia, who, like many
a daughter of Eve, after the departure of Edward, and the
dissipation of certain idle visions which she had adopted,
quietly contented herself with a PIS-ALLER, and gave her hand, at
the distance of six months, to the aforesaid Jonas, son of the
Baronet's steward, and heir (no unfertile prospect) to a
steward's fortune; besides the snug probability of succeeding 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 Rachel, who had hitherto looked rather askance upon the
presumptuous damsel (as much so, peradventure, as her nature
would permit), but who, on the first appearance of the new-
married pair at church, honoured the bride with a smile and a
profound curtsy, in presence of the rector, the curate, the
clerk, and the whole congregation of the united parishes of
Waverley CUM Beverley.

I beg pardon, once and for all, of those readers who take up
novels merely for amusement, for plaguing them so long with old-
fashioned politics, and Whig and Tory, and Hanoverians and
Jacobites, The truth is, I cannot promise them that this story
shall be intelligible, not to say probable, without it.  My plan
requires that I should explain the motives on which its action
proceeded; and these motives necessarily arose from the feelings,
prejudices, and parties of the times.  I do not invite my fair
readers, whose sex and impatience give them the greatest right to
complain of these circumstances, into a flying chariot drawn by
hippogriffs, or moved by enchantment.  Mine is a humble English
post-chaise, drawn upon four wheels, and keeping his Majesty's
highway.  Such as dislike the vehicle may leave it at the next
halt, and wait for the conveyance of Prince Hussein's tapestry,
or Malek the Weaver's flying sentry-box.  Those who are contented
to remain with me will be occasionally exposed to the dullness
inseparable from heavy roads, steep hills, sloughs, and other
terrestrial retardations; but, with tolerable horses and a civil
driver (as the advertisements have it), I engage to get as soon
as possible into a more picturesque and romantic country, if my
passengers incline to have some patience with me during my first
stages.  [These Introductory Chapters have been a good deal
censured as tedious and unnecessary.  Yet there are circumstances
recorded in them which the author has not been able to persuade
himself to retract or cancel.]



CHAPTER VI

THE ADIEUS OF WAVERLEY

It was upon the evening of this memorable Sunday that Sir Everard
entered the library, where he narrowly missed surprising our
young hero as he went through the guards of the broadsword with
the ancient weapon of old Sir Hildebrand, which, being preserved
as an heirloom, usually hung over the chimney in the library,
beneath a picture of the knight and his horse, where the features
were almost entirely hidden by the knight's profusion of curled
hair, and the Bucephalus which he bestrode concealed by the
voluminous robes of the Bath with which he was decorated.  Sir
Everard entered, and after a glance at the picture and another at
his nephew, began a little speech, which, however, soon dropped
into the natural simplicity of his common manner, agitated upon
the present occasion by no common feeling.  'Nephew,' he said;
and then, as mending his phrase, 'My dear Edward, it is God's
will, and also the will of your father, whom, under God, it is
your duty to obey, that you should leave us to take up the
profession of arms, in which so many of your ancestors have been
distinguished.  I have made such arrangements as will enable you
to take the field as their descendant, and as the probable heir
of the house of Waverley; and, sir, in the field of battle you
will remember what name you bear.  And, Edward, my dear boy,
remember also that you are the last of that race, and the only
hope of its revival depends upon you; therefore, as far as duty
and honour will permit, avoid danger--I mean unnecessary danger--
and keep no company with rakes, gamblers, and Whigs, of whom, it
is to be feared, there are but too many in the service into which
you are going.  Your colonel, as I am informed, is an excellent
man--for a Presbyterian; but you will remember your duty to God,
the Church of England, and the--' (this breach ought to have been
supplied, according to the rubric, with the word KING; but as,
unfortunately, that word conveyed a double and embarrassing
sense, one meaning DE FACTO, and the other DE JURE, the knight
filled up the blank otherwise)--'the Church of England, and all
constituted authorities.'  Then, not trusting himself with any
further oratory, he carried his nephew to his stables to see the
horses destined for his campaign.  Two were black (the regimental
colour), superb chargers both; the other three were stout active
hacks, designed for the road, or for his domestics, of whom two
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 enlisted in your troop, had been to march with
you on your journey to Scotland.  It would have been something,
at least; but I am told their attendance would be thought unusual
in these days, when every new and foolish fashion is introduced
to break the natural dependence of the people upon their
landlords.'

Sir Everard had done his best to 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 conviviality than the discipline of their march.
After inspecting the cavalry, Sir Everard again conducted his
nephew to the library, where he produced a letter, carefully
folded, surrounded by a little stripe of flox-silk, according to
ancient form, and sealed with an accurate impression of the
Waverley coat-of-arms.  It was addressed, with 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 of a very ancient
family, and somewhat embarrassed fortune; a scholar, according to
the scholarship of Scotchmen, that is, his learning was more
diffuse than accurate, and he was rather a reader than a
grammarian.  Of his zeal for the classic authors he is said to
have given an 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 companions,
and even his escort, were surprised at his infatuation, 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 replied,
that he had intended to do so, but, in good faith, he had
returned to seek his Titus Livius, which he had forgot in the
hurry of his escape.  [See Note 2.]  The simplicity of this
anecdote struck the gentleman, who, as we before observed, had
managed the defence of some of those unfortunate persons, at the
expense of Sir Everard, and perhaps some others of the party.  He
was, besides, himself a special admirer of the old Patavinian;
and though probably his own zeal might not have carried him such
extravagant lengths, even to recover the edition of Sweynheim and
Pannartz (supposed to be the princeps), he did not the less
estimate the devotion of the North Briton, and in consequence
exerted himself to so much purpose to remove and soften evidence,
detect legal flaws, ET CETERA, that he accomplished the final
discharge and deliverance of Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine from
certain very awkward consequences of a plea before our sovereign
lord the king in Westminster.

The Baron of Bradwardine, for he was generally so called in
Scotland (although his intimates, from his place of residence,
used to denominate him.  Tully-Veolan, or more familiarly,
Tully), no sooner stood RECTUS IN CURIA, than he posted down to
pay his respects and make his acknowledgements at Waverley-
Honour.  A congenial passion for field sports, and a general
coincidence in political opinions, cemented his friendship with
Sir Everard, notwithstanding the difference of their habits and
studies in other particulars; and, having spent several weeks at
Waverley-Honour, the Baron departed with many expressions of
regard, warmly pressing the Baronet to return his visit, and
partake of the diversion of grouse-shooting upon his moors in
Perthshire next season.  Shortly after, Mr. Bradwardine remitted
from Scotland a sum in reimbursement of expenses incurred in the
King's High Court of Westminster, which, although not quite so
formidable when reduced to the English denomination, had, in its
original form of Scotch pounds, shillings, and pence, such a
formidable effect upon the frame of Duncan Macwheeble, the
laird's confidential factor, baron-bailie, and man of resource,
that he had a fit of the colic which lasted for five days,
occasioned, he said, solely and utterly by becoming the unhappy
instrument of conveying such a serious sum of money out of his
native country into the hands of the false English.  But
patriotism as it is the fairest, so it is often the most
suspicious mask of other feelings; and many who knew Bailie
Macwheeble, concluded that his professions of regret were not
altogether disinterested, and that he would have grudged the
moneys paid to the LOONS at Westminster much less had they not
come from Bradwardine estate, a fund which he considered as more
particularly his own.  But the Bailie protested he was absolutely
disinterested--

  Woe, woe, for Scotland, not a whit for me!

The laird was only rejoiced that his worthy friend, Sir Everard
Waverley of Waverley-Honour, was reimbursed of the expenditure
which he had outlaid on account of the house of Bradwardine.  It
concerned, he said, the credit of his own family, and of the
kingdom of Scotland at large, that these disbursements should be
repaid forthwith, and, if delayed, if would be a matter of
national reproach.  Sir Everard, accustomed to treat much larger
sums with indifference, received the remittance of 294l. 13s.
6d., without being aware that the payment was an international
concern, and, indeed, would probably have forgot the circumstance
altogether, if Bailie Macwheeble had thought of comforting his
colic by intercepting the subsidy.  A yearly intercourse took
place, of a short letter, and a hamper or a cask or two, between
Waverley-Honour and Tully-Veolan, the English exports consisting
of mighty cheeses and mightier ale, pheasants and venison, and
the Scottish returns being vested in grouse, white hares, pickled
salmon, and usquebaugh.  All which were meant, sent, and
received, as pledges of constant friendship and amity between two
important houses.  It followed as a matter of course, that the
heir-apparent of Waverley-Honour could not, with propriety, visit
Scotland without being furnished with credentials to the Baron of
Bradwardine.

When this matter was explained and settled, Mr. Pembroke
expressed his wish to take a private and particular leave of his
dear pupil.  The good man's exhortations to Edward to preserve an
unblemished life and morals, to hold fast the principles of the
Christian religion, and to eschew the profane company of scoffers
and latitudinarians, too much abounding in the army, were not
unmingled with his political prejudices.  It had pleased Heaven,
he said, to place Scotland (doubtless for the sins of their
ancestors in 1642) in a more deplorable state of darkness than
even this unhappy kingdom of England.  Here, at least, although
the candlestick of the Church of England had been in some degree
removed from its place, it yet afforded a glimmering light; there
was a hierarchy, though schismatical, and fallen from the
principles maintained by those great fathers of the church,
Sancroft and his brethren; there was a liturgy, though wofully
perverted in some of the principal petitions.  But in Scotland it
was utter darkness; and, excepting a sorrowful, scattered, and
persecuted remnant, the pulpits were abandoned to Presbyterians,
and he feared, to sectaries of every description.  It should be
his duty to fortify his dear pupil to resist such unhallowed and
pernicious doctrines in church and state, as must necessarily be
forced at times upon his unwilling ears.

Here he produced two immense folded packets, which appeared each
to contain a whole ream of closely-written manuscript.  They had
been the labour of the worthy man's whole life; and never were
labour and zeal more absurdly wasted.  He had at one time gone to
London, with the intention of giving them to the world, by the
medium of a bookseller in Little Britain, well known to deal in
such commodities, and to whom he was 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 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 light 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 actual business.

The man of books, with a much more composed air, proceeded to
examine the manuscripts.  The title of the first was 'A Dissent
from Dissenters, or the Comprehension confuted; showing the
Impossibility of any Composition between the Church and Puritans,
Presbyterians, or Sectaries of any Description; illustrated from
the Scriptures, the fathers of the Church, and the soundest
Controversial Divines.'  To this work the bookseller positively
demurred.  'Well meant,' he said, 'and learned, doubtless; but
the time had gone by.  Printed on small pica it would run to
eight hundred pages, and could never pay.  Begged therefore to be
excused.  Loved and honoured the true church from his soul; and,
had it been a sermon on the martyrdom, or any twelve-penny touch
--why I would venture something for the honour of the cloth.  But
come, let's see the other.  'Right Hereditary righted!'  ah,
there's some sense in this!  Hum--hum--hum--pages so many, paper
so much, letterpress--Ah!  I'll tell you, though, doctor, you
must knock out some of the Latin and Greek; heavy, doctor, damn'd
heavy--(beg your pardon) and if you throw in a few grains more
pepper--I am he that never peached my author--I have published
for Drake, and Charlwood Lawton, and poor Amhurst.  [See Note
3.]--Ah, Caleb!  Caleb!  Well, it was a shame to let poor Caleb
starve, and so many fat rectors and squires among us.  I gave him
a dinner once a week; but, Lord love you, what's once a week,
when a man does not know where to go the other six days?--Well,
but I must show the manuscript to little Tom Alibi the solicitor,
who manages all my law affairs--must keep on the windy side--the
mob were very uncivil the last time I mounted in Old Palace Yard
--all Whigs and Roundheads every man of them, Williamites and
Hanover rats.'

The next day Mr. Pembroke again called on the publisher, but
found Tom Alibi's advice had determined him against undertaking
the work.  'Not but what I would go to--(what was I going to
say?) to the Plantations for the church with pleasure--but, dear
doctor, I have a wife and family; but, to show my zeal, I'll
recommend the job to my neighbour Trimmel--he is a bachelor, and
leaving off business, so a voyage in a western barge would not
inconvenience him.'  But Mr. Trimmel was also obdurate, and Mr.
Pembroke, fortunately perchance for himself, was compelled to
return to Waverley-Honour with his treatise in vindication of the
real fundamental principles of church and state safely packed in
his saddle-bags.

As the public were thus likely to be deprived of the benefit
arising from his lucubrations by the selfish cowardice of the
trade, Mr. Pembroke resolved to make two copies of these
tremendous manuscripts for the use of his pupil.  He felt that he
had been indolent as a tutor, and, besides, his conscience
checked him for complying with the request of Mr. Richard
Waverley, that he would impress no sentiments upon Edward's mind
inconsistent with the present settlement in church and state.
But now, thought he, I may, without breach of my word, since he
is no longer under my tuition, afford the youth the means of
judging for himself, and have only to dread his reproaches for so
long concealing the light which the perusal will flash upon his
mind.  While he thus indulged the reveries of an author and a
politician, his darling proselyte, seeing nothing very inviting
in the title of the tracts, and appalled by the bulk and compact
lines of the manuscript, quietly consigned them to a corner of
his travelling trunk.

Aunt Rachel's farewell was brief and affectionate.  She only
cautioned her dear Edward, whom she probably deemed somewhat
susceptible, against the fascination of Scottish beauty.  She
allowed that the northern part of the island contained some
ancient families, but they were all Whigs and Presbyterians
except the Highlanders; and respecting them she must needs say,
there could be no great delicacy among the ladies, where the
gentlemen's usual attire was, as she had been assured, to say the
least, very singular, and not at all decorous.  She concluded her
farewell with a kind and moving benediction, and gave the young
officer, as a pledge of her regard, a valuable diamond ring
(often worn by the male sex at that time), and a purse of broad
gold pieces, which also were more common Sixty Years since than
they have been of late.



CHAPTER VII

A HORSE-QUARTER IN SCOTLAND

The next morning, amid varied feelings, the chief of which was a
predominant, anxious, and even solemn impression, that he was now
in a great measure abandoned to his own guidance and direction,
Edward Waverley departed from the Hall amid the blessings and
tears of all the old domestics and the inhabitants of the
village, mingled with some sly petitions for sergeantcies and
corporalships, and so forth, on the part of those who professed
that 'they never thoft to ha' seen Jacob, and Giles, and
Jonathan, go off for soldiers, save to attend his honour, as in
duty bound.'  Edward, as in duty bound, extricated himself from
the supplicants with the pledge of fewer promises than might have
been expected from a young man so little accustomed to the world.
After a short visit to London, he proceeded on horseback, then
the general mode of travelling, to Edinburgh, and from thence to
Dundee, a seaport on the eastern coast of Angus-shire, where his
regiment was then quartered.

He now entered upon a new world, where, for a time, all was
beautiful because all was new.  Colonel Gardiner, the commanding
officer of the regiment, was himself a study for a romantic, and
at the same time an inquisitive, youth.  In person he was tall,
handsome, and active, though somewhat advanced in life.  In his
early years, he had been what is called, by manner of palliative,
a very gay young man, and strange stories were circulated about
his sudden conversion from doubt, if not infidelity, to a serious
and even enthusiastic turn of mind.  It was whispered that a
supernatural communication, of a nature obvious even to the
exterior senses, had produced this wonderful change; and though
some mentioned the proselyte as an enthusiast, none hinted at his
being a hypocrite.  This singular and mystical circumstance gave
Colonel Gardiner a peculiar and solemn interest in the eyes of
the young soldier.  [See Note 4.]  It may be easily imagined that
the officers of a regiment, commanded by so respectable a person,
composed a society more sedate and orderly than a military mess
always exhibits; and that Waverley escaped some temptations to
which he might otherwise have been exposed.

Meanwhile his military education proceeded.  Already a good
horseman, he was now initiated into the arts of the manege,
which, when carried to perfection, almost realize the fable of
the Centaur, the guidance of the horse appearing to proceed from
the rider's mere volition, rather than from the use of any
external and apparent signal of motion.  He received also
instructions in his field duty; but, I must own, that when his
first ardour was passed, his progress fell short in the latter
particular of what he wished and expected.  The duty of an
officer, the most imposing of all others to the inexperienced
mind, because accompanied with so much outward pomp and
circumstance, is in its essence a very dry and abstract task,
depending chiefly upon arithmetical 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 his 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 minuter rules of military duty beneath his notice,
or conceiting himself to be born a general, because he made an
indifferent subaltern.  The truth was, that the vague and
unsatisfactory course of reading which he had pursued, working
upon a temper naturally retired and abstracted, had given him
that wavering and unsettled habit of mind, which is most averse
to study and riveted attention.  Time, in the meanwhile, hung
heavy on his hands.  The gentry of the neighbourhood were
disaffected, and, showed little hospitality to the military
guests; and the people of the town, chiefly engaged in mercantile
pursuits, were not such as Waverley chose to associate with.  The
arrival of summer, and a curiosity to know something more of
Scotland than he could see in a ride from his quarters,
determined him to request leave of absence for a few weeks.  He
resolved first to visit his uncle's ancient friend and
correspondent, with the purpose of extending or shortening the
time of his residence according to circumstances.  He travelled
of course on horseback, and with a single attendant, and passed
his first night at a miserable inn, where the landlady had
neither shoes nor stockings, and the landlord, who called himself
a gentleman, was disposed to be rude to his guest, because he had
not bespoke the pleasure of his society to supper.  [See Note 5.]
The next day, traversing an open and unenclosed country, Edward
gradually approached the Highlands of Perthshire, which at first
had appeared a blue outline in the horizon, but now swelled into
huge gigantic masses, which frowned defiance over the more level
country that lay beneath them.  Near the bottom of this
stupendous barrier, but still in the Lowland country, dwelt Cosmo
Comyne Bradwardine of Bradwardine; and, if grey-haired eld can be
in aught believed, there had dwelt his ancestors, with all their
heritage, since the days of the gracious King Duncan.



CHAPTER VIII

A SCOTTISH MANOR-HOUSE SIXTY YEARS SINCE

It was about noon when Captain Waverley entered the 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
smiling neatness of English cottages.  They stood, without any
respect for regularity, on each side of & straggling kind of
unpaved street, where children, almost in a primitive state of
nakedness, lay sprawling, as if to be crushed by the hoofs of the
first passing horse.  Occasionally, indeed, when such a
consummation seemed inevitable, a watchful old grandam, with her
close cap, distaff, and spindle, rushed like a sibyl in frenzy
out of one of these miserable cells, dashed into the middle of
the path, and snatching up her own charge from among the sunburnt
loiterers, saluted him with a sound cuff, and transported him
back to his dungeon, the little white-headed varlet screaming all
the while, from the very top of his lungs, a shrilly treble to
the growling remonstrances of the enraged matron.  Another part
in this concert was sustained by the incessant yelping of a score
of idle useless curs, which followed, snarling, barking, howling,
and snapping at the horses' heels; a nuisance at that time so
common in Scotland, that a French tourist, who, like other
travellers, longed to find a good and rational reason for
everything he saw, has recorded, as one of the memorabilia of
Caledonia, that the 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 move without such a stimulus)
from one hamlet to another, till their annoying convoy drove them
to the end of their stage.  The evil and remedy (such as it is)
still exist:  but this is remote from our present purpose, and is
only thrown out for consideration of the collectors under Mr.
Dent's dog bill.

As Waverley moved on, here and there an old man, bent as much by
toil as years, his eyes bleared with age and smoke, tottered to
the door of his hut, to gaze on the dress of the stranger, and
the form and motions of the horses, and then assembled with his
neighbours, in a little group at the smithy, to discuss the
probabilities of whence the stranger came, and where he might be
going.  Three or four village girls, returning from the well or
brook with pitchers and pails upon their heads, formed more
pleasing objects; and, with their thin, short gowns and single
petticoats, bare arms, legs, and feet, uncovered heads, and
braided hair, somewhat resembled Italian forms of landscape.  Nor
could a lover of the picturesque have challenged either the
elegance of their costume, or the symmetry of their shape;
although, to say the truth, a mere Englishman, in search of the
COMFORTABLE, a word peculiar to his native tongue, might have
wished the clothes less scanty, the feet and legs somewhat
protected from the weather, the head and complexion shrouded from
the sun, or perhaps might even have thought the whole person and
dress considerably improved, by a plentiful application of spring
water, with a QUANTUM SUFFICIT of soap, The whole scene was
depressing; 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 features
were rough, but remarkably intelligent; grave, but the very
reverse of stupid; and from among the young women, an artist
might have chosen more than one model, whose features and form
resembled those of Minerva.  The children, also, whose skins were
burnt black, and whose hair was bleached white, by the influence
of the sun, had a look and manner of life and interest.  It
seemed, upon the whole, as if poverty, and indolence, its too
frequent companion, were combining to depress the natural genius
and acquired information of a hardy, intelligent, and reflecting
peasantry.

Some such thoughts crossed Waverley's mind as he paced his horse
slowly through the rugged and flinty street of Tully-Veolan,
interrupted only in his meditations by the occasional caprioles
which his charger exhibited at the reiterated assaults of those
canine Cossacks, the COLLIES before mentioned.  The village was
more than half a mile long, the cottages being irregularly
divided from each other by gardens, or yards, as the inhabitants
called them, of different sizes, where (for it is Sixty Years
since) the now universal potato was unknown, but which were
stored with 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
enclosure.  The broken ground on which the village was built had
never been levelled; so that these enclosures presented
declivities of every degree, here rising like terraces, there
sinking like tan-pits.  The dry-stone walls which fenced, or
seemed to fence (for they were sorely breached), these hanging
gardens of Tully-Veolan, were intersected by a narrow lane
leading to the common field, where the joint labour of the
villagers cultivated alternate ridges and patches of rye, oats,
barley, and peas, each of such minute extent, that at a little
distance the unprofitable variety of the surface resembled a
tailor's book of patterns.  In a few favoured instances, there
appeared behind the cottages a miserable wigwam, compiled of
earth, loose stones, and turf, where the wealthy might perhaps
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 dung-hill ascended in
noble emulation.

About a bow-shot from the end of the village appeared the
enclosures, proudly denominated the Parks of Tully-Veolan, being
certain square fields, surrounded and divided by stone walls five
feet in height.  In the centre of the exterior barrier was the
upper gate of the avenue, opening under an archway, battlemented
on the top, and adorned with two large weather-beaten mutilated
masses of upright stone, which, if the tradition of the hamlet
could be trusted, had once represented, at least had been once
designed to represent, two rampant Bears, the supporters of the
family of Bradwardine.  This avenue was straight, and of moderate
length, running between a double row of very ancient horse-
chestnuts, planted alternately with sycamores, which rose to such
huge height, and flourished so luxuriantly, that their boughs
completely over-arched the broad road beneath.  Beyond these
venerable ranks, and running parallel to them, were two high
walls, of apparently the like antiquity, overgrown with ivy,
honeysuckle, and other climbing plants.  The avenue seemed very
little trodden, and chiefly by foot-passengers; so that being
very broad, and enjoying a constant shade, it was clothed with
grass of a deep and rich verdure, excepting where a footpath,
worn by occasional passengers, tracked with a natural sweep the
way from the upper to the lower gate.  This nether portal, like
the former, opened in front of a wall ornamented with some rude
sculpture, with battlements on the top, over which were seen,
half-hidden by the trees of the avenue, the high steep roofs and
narrow gables of the mansion, with lines indented into steps, and
corners decorated with small turrets.  One of the folding leaves
of the lower gate was open, and as the sun shone full into the
court behind, a long line of brilliancy was flung upon the
aperture up the dark and gloomy avenue.  It was one of those
effects which a painter loves to represent, and mingled well with
the struggling light which found its way between the boughs of
the shady arch that vaulted the broad green alley.

The solitude and repose of the whole scene seemed almost
romantic; and Waverley, who had given his horse to his servant on
entering the first gate, walked slowly down the avenue, enjoying
the grateful and cooling shade, and so much pleased with the
placid ideas of rest and seclusion excited by this confined and
quiet scene, that he forgot the misery and dirt of the hamlet he
had left behind him.  The opening into the paved courtyard
corresponded with the rest of the scene.  The house, which seemed
to consist of two or three high, narrow, and steep-roofed
buildings, projecting from each other at right angles, formed one
side of the enclosure.  It had been built at a period when
castles were no longer necessary, and when the Scottish
architects had not yet acquired the art of designing a domestic
residence.  The windows were numberless, but very small; the roof
had some nondescript kind of projections, called bartizans, and
displayed at each frequent angle a small turret, rather
resembling a pepper-box than a Gothic watch-tower.  Neither did
the front indicate absolute security from danger.  There were
loop-holes for musketry, and iron 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, resembling, as Edward's groom observed,
'rather a prison for murderers and larceners, and such like as
are tried at 'sizes, than a place for any Christian cattle.'
Above these dungeon-looking stables were granaries, called
girnels, and other offices, to which there was access by outside
stairs of heavy masonry.  Two battlemented walls, one of which
faced the avenue, and the other divided the court from the
garden, completed the enclosure.

Nor was the court without its ornaments.  In one corner was a
tun-bellied pigeon-house, of great size and rotundity, resembling
in figure and proportion the curious edifice called Arthur's
Oven, which would have turned the brains of all the antiquaries
in England, had not the worthy proprietor pulled it down for the
sake of mending a neighbouring dam-dyke.  This dovecot, or
COLUMBARIUM, as the owner called it, was no small resource to a
Scottish laird of that period, whose scanty rents were eked out
by the contributions levied upon the farms by these light
foragers, and the conscriptions exacted from the latter for the
benefit of the table.

Another 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 large, demi or in full
proportion, were carved over the windows, upon the ends of the
gables, terminated the spouts, and supported the turrets, with
the ancient family motto 'BEWAR THE BAR,' cut under each
hyperborean form.  The court was spacious, well paved, and
perfectly clean, there being probably another entrance behind the
stables for removing the litter.  Everything around appeared
solitary, and would have been silent, but for the continued
plashing of the fountain; and the 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.
[There is no particular mansion described under the name of
Tully-Veolan; but the peculiarities of the description occur in
various old Scottish seats.  The House of Warrender upon
Bruntsfield Links, and that of Old Ravelston, belonging, the
former to Sir George Warrender, the latter to Sir Alexander
Keith, have both contributed several hints to the description in
the text.  The House of Dean, near Edinburgh, has also some
points of resemblance with Tully-Veolan.  The author has,
however, been informed, that the House of Grandtully resembles
that of the Baron of Bradwardine still more than any of the
above.]



CHAPTER IX

MORE OF THE MANOR-HOUSE AND ITS ENVIRONS

After having satisfied his curiosity by gazing around him for a
few minutes, Waverley applied himself to the massive knocker of
the hall-door, the architrave of which bore the date 1594.  But
no answer was returned, though the peal resounded through a
number of apartments, and was echoed from the courtyard walls
without the house, startling the pigeons from the venerable
rotunda which they occupied, and alarming anew even the distant
village curs, which had retired to sleep upon their respective
dung-hills.  Tired of the din which he created, and the
unprofitable responses which it excited, Waverley began to think
that he had reached the castle of Orgoglio, as entered by the
victorious Prince Arthur,

  When 'gan he loudly through the house to call,
  But no man cared to answer to his cry;
  There reigned a solemn silence over all,
  Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seen, in bower or hall.

Filled almost with expectation of beholding some 'old, old man,
with beard as white as snow,' whom he might question concerning
this deserted mansion, our hero turned to a little oaken wicket-
door, well clenched with iron nails, which opened in the
courtyard 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.
[At Ravelston may be seen such a garden, which the taste of the
proprietor, the author's friend and kinsman, Sir Alexander Keith,
Knight Mareschal, has judiciously preserved.  That, as well as
the house, is, however, of smaller dimensions than the Baron of
Bradwardine's mansion and garden are presumed to have been.]  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, partly paved, partly
gravelled, partly bordered with flowers and choice shrubs.  This
elevation descended by three several flights of steps, placed in
its centre and at the extremities, into what might be called the
garden proper, and was fenced along the top by a stone parapet
with a heavy balustrade, ornamented from space to space with huge
grotesque figures of animals seated upon their haunches, among
which the favourite bear was repeatedly introduced.  Placed in
the middle of the terrace, between a sashed door opening from the
house and the central flight of steps, a huge animal of the same
species supported on his head and fore-paws a sundial of large
circumference, inscribed with more diagrams than Edward's
mathematics enabled him to decipher.

The garden, which seemed to be kept with great accuracy, abounded
in fruit-trees, and exhibited a profusion of flowers and
evergreens, cut into grotesque forms.  It was laid out in
terraces, which descended rank by rank from the western wall 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 weir-head, the cause of its
temporary tranquillity, and there forming a cascade, was
overlooked by an octangular summer-house, with a gilded bear on
the top by way of vane.  After this feat, the brook, assuming its
natural rapid and fierce character, escaped from the eye down a
deep and wooded dell, from the copse of which arose a massive,
but ruinous tower, the former habitation of the Barons of
Bradwardine, The margin of the brook, opposite to the garden,
displayed a narrow 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 wanted not the 'DUE DONZELLETTE GARRULE' of that
enchanted paradise, for upon the green aforesaid two bare-legged
damsels, each standing in a spacious tub, performed with their
feet the office of a patent washing-machine.  These did not,
however, like the maidens of Armida, remain to greet with their
harmony the approaching guest, but, alarmed at the appearance of
a handsome stranger on the opposite side, dropped their garments
(I should say garment, to be quite-correct) over their limbs,
which their occupation exposed somewhat too freely, and, with a
shrill exclamation of 'Eh, sirs!'  uttered with an accent between
modesty and coquetry, sprang off like deer in different
directions.

Waverley began to despair of gaining entrance into this solitary
and seemingly enchanted mansion, when a, man advanced up one of
the garden alleys, where he still retained his station.  Trusting
this might be a gardener, or some domestic belonging to the
house, Edward descended the steps in order to meet him; but as
the figure approached, and long before he could descry its
features, he was 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 perpendicularly, like a pendulum, on each
side; and anon he slapped them swiftly and repeatedly across his
breast, like the substitute used by a hackney-coachman for his
usual flogging exercise, when his cattle are idle upon the stand
in a clear frosty day.  His gait was as singular as his gestures,
for at times he hopped with great perseverance on the right foot,
then exchanged that supporter to advance in the same manner on
the left, and then putting his feet close together, he hopped
upon both at once.  His attire, also, was antiquated and
extravagant.  It consisted in a sort of grey jerkin, with scarlet
cuffs and slashed sleeves, showing a scarlet lining; the other
parts of the dress corresponded in colour, not forgetting a pair
of scarlet stockings, and a scarlet bonnet, proudly surmounted
with a turkey's feather.  Edward, whom he did not seem to
observe, now perceived confirmation in his features of what the
mien and gestures had already announced.  It was 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 sang with great earnestness, and not
without some taste, a fragment of an old Scottish ditty:--

  False love, and hast thou played me thus
  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'll smile on other men.

[This is a genuine ancient fragment, with some alteration in the
last two lines.]

Here lifting up his eyes, which had hither&o been fixed in
observing how his feet kept time to the tune, he beheld Waverley,
and instantly doffed 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,'--

  The Knight's to the mountain
  His bugle to wind;
  The Lady's to greenwood
  Her garland to bind.
  The bower of Burd Ellen
  Has moss on the floor,
  That the step of Lord William
  Be silent and sure.

This conveyed no information, and Edward, repeating his queries,
received a rapid answer, in which, from the haste and peculiarity
of the dialect, the word 'butler' was alone intelligible.
Waverley then requested to see the butler; upon which the fellow,
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 Shakespeare'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 appearance hovered
between that of an upper servant and gardener; his red nose and
ruffed shirt belonging to the former profession; his hale and
sunburnt visage, with his green apron, appearing to indicate

  Old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden.

The major domo--for such he was, and indisputably the second
officer of state in the barony (nay, as chief minister of the
interior, superior even to Bailie Macwheeble, in his own
department of the kitchen and cellar)--the major domo laid down
his spade, slipped on his coat in haste, and with a wrathful look
at Edward's guide, probably excited by his having introduced a
stranger while he was engaged in this laborious, and, as he might
suppose it, degrading office, requested to know the gentleman's
commands.  Being informed that he wished to pay his respects to
his master, that his name was Waverley, 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 dark 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 meantime with
dressing Miss Rose's flower-bed, that he might be near to receive
his honour's orders, if need were:  he was very fond of a garden,
but had little time for such divertisements.'

'He canna get it wrought in abune twa days in the week at no rate
whatever,' said Edward's fantastic conductor.

A grim look from the butler chastised his interference, and he
commanded him, by the name of Davie Gellatley, in a tone which
admitted no discussion, to look for his honour at the dark hag,
and tell him there was a gentleman from the south had arrived at
the Ha'.

'Can this poor fellow deliver a letter?'  asked Edward.

'With all fidelity, sir, to any one whom he respects.  I would
hardly trust him with a long message by word of mouth--though he
is more knave than fool.'

Waverley delivered his credentials to Mr. Gellatley, who seemed
to confirm the butler's last observation, by twisting his
features at him, when he was looking another way, into the
resemblance of the grotesque face on the bowl 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 English
bull, and since that time we ca' him Davie Do-little indeed we
might ca' him Davie Do-naething, for since he got that gay
clothing, to please his honour and my young mistress (great folks
will have their fancies), he has done naething but dance up and
down about the TOUN, without doing a single turn, unless trimming
the laird's fishing-wand or busking his flies, or maybe catching
a dish of trouts at an orra-time.  But here comes Miss Rose, who,
I take burden upon me for her, will be especially glad to see one
of the house of Waverley at her father's mansion at Tully-
Veolan.'

But Rose Bradwardine deserves better of her unworthy historian,
than to be introduced at the end of a chapter.

In the meanwhile it may be noticed, that Waverley learned two
things from this colloquy; that in Scotland a single house was
called a TOWN, and a natural fool an INNOCENT.  [See Note 6.]



CHAPTER X

ROSE BRADWARDINE AND HER FATHER

Miss Bradwardine was but seventeen; yet, at the last races of the
county town of --, upon her health being proposed among a round
of beauties, the Laird of Bumperquaigh, permanent feast-master
and croupier of the Bautherwhillery Club, not only said MORE to
the pledge in a pint bumper of Bourdeaux, but, ere pouring forth
the libation, denominated the divinity to whom it was dedicated,
'the Rose of 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 partners of
the company snorted applause, and that 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 further--uttered 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
Bautherwhillery Club could have mustered, even before discussion
of the first MAGNUM.  She was indeed a very pretty girl of the
Scotch cast of beauty, that is, with a profusion of hair of paley
gold, and a skin like the snow of her own mountains in whiteness.
Yet she had not a pallid or pensive 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 slightest 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
unembarrassed.  She came from another part of the garden to
receive Captain Waverley, with a manner that hovered between
bashfulness and courtesy.

The first greetings past, Edward learned from her that the dark
hag, which had somewhat puzzled him in the 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 diffident civility,
to show the stranger the way to the spot, which, it seems, was
not far distant; but they were prevented by the appearance of the
Baron of Bradwardine in person, who, summoned by David Gellatley,
now appeared, 'on hospitable thoughts intent,' clearing the
ground at a prodigious rate with swift and long strides, which
reminded Waverley of the seven-league boots of the nursery fable.
He was a tall, thin, athletic figure; old indeed, and grey-
haired, but with every muscle rendered as tough as whip-cord by
constant exercise.  He was dressed carelessly, and more like a
Frenchman than an Englishman of the period, while, from his hard
features and perpendicular rigidity of stature, he bore some
resemblance to a Swiss officer of the guards, who had resided
some time at Paris, and caught the costume, but not the ease or
manner of its inhabitants.  The truth was, that his language and
habits were as heterogeneous as his external appearance.

Owing to his natural disposition to study, or perhaps to a very
general Scottish fashion of giving young men of rank a legal
education, he had been bred with a view to the Bar.  But the
politics of his family precluding the hope of his rising in that
profession, Mr. Bradwardine travelled with high reputation for
several years, and made some campaigns in foreign service.  After
his DEMELE 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 soldier, might remind
a modern of the days of the zealous volunteer service, when the
bar-gown of our pleaders was often hung 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 indisputable 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.  HABENDI 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-HABEND.  SIVE BAK-BARAND.'  The
peculiar meaning of all these cabalistical words few or none
could explain; but they implied, upon the whole, that the Baron
of Bradwardine might, in case of delinquency, imprison, try, and
execute his vassals at his pleasure.  Like James the First.
however, the present possessor of this authority 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-Veolan, where they were sorely frightened by
ghosts, and almost eaten by rats, and that he set an old woman in
the JOUGS (or Scottish pillory) for saying 'there were mair fules
in the laird's ha' house than Davie Gellatley,' I do not learn
that he was accused of abusing his high powers.  Still, however,
the conscious pride of possessing them gave additional importance
to his language and deportment.

At his first address to Waverley, it would seem that the hearty
pleasure he felt to behold the nephew of his friend had somewhat
discomposed the stiff and upright dignity of the Baron of
Bradwardine's demeanour, for the tears stood in the old
gentleman's eyes, when, having first shaken Edward heartily by
the hand in the English fashion, he embraced him A LA MODE
FRANCAISE, and kissed him on both sides of his face; while the
hardness of his grip, 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 worthy scion of the old
stock of Waverley-Honour--SPES ALTERA, as Maro hath it--and you
have the look of the old line, Captain Waverley, not so portly
yet as my old friend Sir Everard--MAIS CELA VIENDRA AVEC LE
TEMPS, 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. Rachel?--Ah, ye laugh,
young man!  In troth she was the fair Mrs. Rachel in the year of
grace seventeen hundred and sixteen; but time passes--ET SINGULA
PRAEDANTUR 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 leaks out the
old Chateau Margaux, which I sent from Bourdeaux to Dundee in the
year 1713.'

Rose tripped off demurely enough till she turned the first
corner, and then ran with the speed of a fairy, that she might
gain leisure, after discharging her father's commission, to put
her own dress in order, and produce all her little finery, an
occupation for which the approaching dinner hour left but limited
time.

'We cannot rival the luxuries of your English table, Captain
Waverley, or give you the EPULAE LAUTIORES of Wavery-Honour--I
say EPULAE rather than PRANDIUM, because the latter phrase is
popular; EPULAE AD SENATUM, PRANDIUM VERO AD POPULUM ATTINET,
says Suetonius Tranquillus.  But I trust ye will applaud my
Bourdeaux; C'EST D'UNE OREILLE, as Captain Vinsauf used to say--
VINUM PRIMAE NOTAE, the Principal of St. Andrews denominated it.
And, once more, Captain Waverley, right glad am I that ye are
here to drink the best my cellar can make forthcoming.'

This speech, with the necessary interjectional answers, continued
from the lower alley where they met, up to the door of the house,
where four or five servants in old-fashioned liveries, headed by
Alexander Saunderson, the butler, who now bore no token of the
sable stains of the garden, received them in grand costume,

  In an old hall hung round with pikes and with bows,
  With old bucklers and corselets that had borne many shrewd
       blows.

With much ceremony, and still more real kindness, the Baron,
without stopping in any intermediate apartment, conducted his
guest through several into the great dining parlour, wainscoted
with black oak, and hung round with the pictures of his ancestry,
where a table was set forth in form for six persons, and an old-
fashioned beaufet displayed all the ancient and massive plate of
the Bradwardine family.  A bell was now heard at the head of the
avenue; for an old man, who acted as porter upon gala days, had
caught the alarm given by Waverley's arrival, and, repairing to
his post, announced the arrival of other guests.

These, as the Baron assured his young friend, were very estimable
persons.  'There was the young Laird of Balmawhapple, a Falconer
by surname, of the house of Glenfarquhar, given right much to
field sports--GAUDAT EQUIS ET CANIBUS--but a very discreet young
gentleman.  Then there was the Laird of Killancureit, who had
devoted his leisure UNTILL tillage and agriculture, and boasted
himself to be possessed of a bull of matchless merit, brought
from the county of Devon (the Damnonia, of the Romans, if we can
trust Robert of Cirencester).  He is, as ye may well suppose from
such a tendency, but of yeoman extraction--SERVABIT ODOREM 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 bailiff, or ground-officer, or something in that
department, to the last Girnigo of Killancureit, who died of an
atrophy.  After his master's death, sir,--ye would hardly believe
such a scandal,--but this Bullsegg, being portly and comely of
aspect, intermarried with the lady dowager, who was young and
amorous, and possessed himself of the estate, which devolved on
this unhappy woman by a settlement of her umwhile husband, in
direct contravention of an unrecorded taillie, and to the
prejudice of the disponer's own flesh and blood, in the person of
his natural heir and seventh cousin, Girnigo of Tipperhewit,
whose family was so reduced by the ensuing lawsuit, that his
represenative is now serving as a private gentleman-sentinel in
the Highland Black Watch.  But this gentleman, Mr. Bullsegg of
Killancureit that now is, has good blood in his veins by the
mother and grandmother, who were both of the family of
Pickletillim, and he is well liked and looked upon, and knows his
own place.  And God forbid, Captain Waverley, that we of
irreproachable lineage should exult over him, when it may be,
that in the eighth, ninth, or tenth generation, his progeny may
rank, in a manner, with the old gentry of the country.  Rank and
ancestry, sir, should be the last words in the mouths of us of
unblemished race--VIX EA NOSTRA VOCO, 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 dwelling-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.  [See Note 7.]  My Baron-Bailie and
doer, Mr. Duncan Macwheeble, is the fourth on our list.  There is
a question, owing to the incertitude of ancient orthography,
whether he belongs to the clan of Wheedle or of Quibble, but both
have produced persons eminent in the law.'--

  As such he described them by person and name,
  They entered, and dinner was served as they came.



CHAPTER XI

THE BANQUET

The entertainment was ample, and handsome, according to the
Scotch ideas of the period, and the guests did great honour to
it.  The Baron ate like a famished soldier, the Laird of
Balmawhapple like a sportsman, Bullsegg of Killancureit like a
farmer, Waverley himself like a traveller, and Bailie Macwheeble
like all four together; though, either out of more respect, or in
order to preserve that proper declination of person which showed
a sense that he was in the presence of his patron, he sat upon
the edge of his chair, placed at three feet distance from the
table, and achieved a communication with his plate by projecting
his person towards it in a line, which obliqued from the bottom
of his spine, so that the person who sat opposite to him could
only see the foretop of his riding periwig.

This stooping position might have been inconvenient to another
person; but long habit made it, whether seated or walking,
perfectly easy to the worthy Bailie.  In the latter posture, it
occasioned, no doubt, an unseemly projection of the person
towards those who happened to walk behind; but those being at all
times his inferiors (for Mr. Macwheeble was very scrupulous in
giving place to all others), he cared very little what inference
of contempt or slight regard they might derive from the
circumstance.  Hence, when he waddled across the court to and
from his old grey pony, he somewhat resembled a turnspit walking
upon its hind legs.

The nonjuring clergyman was a pensive and interesting old man,
with much the air of a sufferer for conscience' sake.  He was one
of those,

  Who, undeprived, their benefice forsook.

For this whim, when the Baron was out of hearing, the Bailie used
sometimes gently to rally Mr. Rubrick, upbraiding him with the
nicety of his scruples.  Indeed it must be owned, that he
himself, though at heart a keen partisan of the exiled family,
had kept pretty fair with all the different turns of state in his
time; so that Davie Gellatley once described him as a
particularly good man, 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 DE JURE, as their politics
inclined.  The conversation now became general; and, shortly
afterwards, Miss Bradwardine, 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, flowed freely
round, although Waverley, with some difficulty, obtained the
privilege of sometimes neglecting the glass.  At length, as the
evening grew more late, the Baron made a private signal to Mr.
Saunders Saunderson, or, as he facetiously denominated him,
ALEXANDER AB ALEXANDRO, who left the room with a nod, and soon
after returned, his grave countenance mantling with a solemn and
mysterious smile, and placed before his master a small oaken
casket, mounted with brass ornaments of curious form.  The Baron,
drawing out a private key, unlocked the casket, raised the lid,
and produced a golden goblet of a singular and antique
appearance, moulded into the shape of a rampant bear, which the
owner regarded with a look of mingled reverence, pride, and
delight, that irresistibly reminded Waverley of Ben Jonson's Tom
Otter, with his Bull, Horse, and Dog, as that wag wittily
denominated his chief carousing cups.  But Mr. Bradwardine,
fuming towards him with complacency, requested him to observe
this curious relic of the olden time.

'It represents,' he said, 'the chosen crest of our family, a
bear, as ye observe, and rampant; because a good herald will
depict every animal in its noblest posture; as a horse SALIENT, a
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 wappen-brief, or concession of arms, of Frederick Redbeard,
Emperor of Germany, to my predecessor, Godmund Bradwardine, it
being the crest of a gigantic Dane, whom he slew in the lists in
the Holy Land, on a quarrel touching the chastity of the
Emperor's spouse or daughter, tradition saith not precisely
which, and thus, as Virgilius hath it--

  Mutemus clypeos, Danaumque insignia nobis
  Aptemus.

Then for the cup, Captain Waverley, it was wrought by the command
of St. Duthac, Abbot of Aberbrothock, for behoof of another baron
of the house of Bradwardine, who had valiantly defended the
patrimony of that monastery against certain encroaching nobles.
It is properly termed the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine (though old
Dr. Doubleit used jocosely to call it Ursa Major), and was
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 solemn standard cup and heirloom of our house; nor is
it ever used but upon seasons of high festival, and such I hold
to be the arrival of the heir of Sir Everard under my roof; and 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, delivering the bottle to the
butler, to be held carefully in the same angle with the horizon,
he devoutly quaffed off the contents of the Blessed Bear of
Bradwardine.

Edward, with horror and alarm, beheld the animal making his
rounds, and thought with great anxiety upon the appropriate
motto, 'Beware the Bear;' but at the same time plainly foresaw,
that as none of the guests scrupled to do him this extraordinary
honour, a refusal on-his part to pledge their courtesy would be
extremely ill received.  Resolving, 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 possibly have
expected.  The others, whose time had been more actively
employed, began to show symptoms of innovation,--'the good wine
did its good office.'  [Southey's MADOC.] The frost of etiquette,
and pride of birth, began to give way before the genial blessings
of this benign constellation, and the formal appellatives with
which the three dignitaries had hitherto addressed each other,
were now familiarly abbreviated into Tully, Bally, and Killie.
When a few rounds had passed, the two latter, after whispering
together, craved permission (a joyful hearing for Edward) to ask
the grace-cup.  This, after some delay, was at length produced,
and Waverley concluded that the orgies of Bacchus were terminated
for the evening.  He was never more mistaken in his life.

As the guests had left their horses at the small inn, or CHANGE-
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 enjoy, after this feverish revel,
the cool summer evening, attended the party.  But when they
arrived at Luckie Macleary's, the Lairds of Balmawhapple and
Killancureit declared their determination to acknowledge their
sense of the hospitality of Tully-Veolan, by partaking with their
entertainer and his guest Captain Waverley, what they technically
called DEOCH AN DORUIS, a stirrup-cup, to the honour of the
Baron's roof-tree.  [See Note 8.]

It must be noticed, that the Bailie, knowing by experience that
the day's joviality, which had been hitherto sustained at the
expense of his patron, might terminate partly at his own, had
mounted his spavined grey pony, and, between gaiety of heart, and
alarm for being hooked into a reckoning, spurred him into a
hobbling canter (a trot was out of the question), and had already
cleared the village.  The others entered the change-house,
leading Edward in unresisting submission; for his landlord
whispered him, that to demur to such an overture would be
construed into a high misdemeanour against the LEGES CONVIVIALES,
or regulations of genial compotation.  Widow Macleary seemed to
have expected this visit, as well she might, for it was the usual
consummation of merry bouts, not only at Tully-Veolan, but at
most other gentlemen's houses in Scotland, Sixty Years since.
The guests thereby at once acquitted themselves of their burden
of gratitude for their entertainer's kindness, encouraged the
trade of his change-house, did honour to the place which afforded
harbour to their horses, and indemnified themselves for the
previous restraints imposed by private hospitality, by spending,
what Falstaff calls the sweet of the night, in the genial license
of a tavern.

Accordingly, in full expectation of these distinguished guests,
Luckie Macleary had swept her house for the first time this
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 washed, propped its lame foot with a fragment of
turf, arranged 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 Macleary'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; but the confusion
which appeared to prevail favoured Edward's resolution to evade
the gaily circling glass.  The others began to talk thick and at
once, each performing his own part in the conversation, without
the least respect to hist neighbour.  The Baron of Bradwardine
sang French CHANSONS-A-BOIRE, and spouted pieces of Latin;
Killancureit talked, in a steady unalterable dull key, of top-
dressing and bottom-dressing, [This has been censured as an
anachronism; and it must be confessed that agriculture of this
kind was unknown to the Scotch Sixty Years since.]  and year-
olds, and gimmers, and dinmonts, and stots, and runts, and
kyloes, and a proposed turnpike-act; while Balmawhapple, in notes
exalted above both, extolled his horse, his hawks, and a
greyhound called Whistler.  In the middle of this din, the Baron
repeatedly implored silence; and when at length the instinct of
polite discipline so far prevailed, that for a moment he obtained
it, he hastened to beseech their attention 'unto a military
ariette, which was a particular favourite of the Marechal Duc de
Berwick;' then, imitating, as well as he could, the manner and
tone of a French mousquetaire, he immediately commenced,--

  Mon coeur volage, dit-elle,
  N'est pas pour vous, garcon;
  Est pour un homme de guerre,
  Qui a barbe au menton.
        Lon, Lon, Laridon.

  Qui ports chapeau a plume,
  Soulier a rouge talon,
  Qui joue de la flute,
  Aussi du violon.
        Lon, Lon, Laridon.

Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with what he
called a, d--d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the
piper of Cupar; and, without wasting more time, struck up,--

  It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed,
  And o'er the bent of Killiebraid,
  And mony a weary cast I made,
  To cuittle the muirfowl's tail.

[SUUM CUIQUE.  This snatch of a ballad was composed by Andrew
MacDonald, the ingenious and unfortunate author of VIMONDA.]

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 disdain, while Balmawhapple proceeded,--

  If up a bonny black-cock should spring,
  To whistle him down wi' a slug in his wing,
  And strap him on to my lunzie string,
  Right seldom would I fail.

After an ineffectual attempt to recover the second verse, he sang
the first over again; and, in prosecution of his triumph,
declared there was 'more sense in that than in all the DERRY-
DONGS of France, and Fifeshire to the boot of it.'  The Baron
only answered with a long pinch of snuff, and a glance of
infinite contempt.  But those noble allies, the Bear and the Hen,
had emancipated the young laird from the habitual reverence in
which he held Bradwardine at other times.  He pronounced 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 note in the strange compound of sounds which it
produced.  Inspired by her, the Laird of Balmawhapple, now
superior to the nods and winks with which the Baron of
Bradwardine, in delicacy to Edward, had hitherto checked his
entering upon political discussion, demanded a bumper, with the
lungs of a Stentor, 'to the little gentleman in black velvet who
did such service in 1702, and may the white horse break his neck
over a mound of his making!'

Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough to remember
that King William's fall, which occasioned his death, was said to
be owing to his horse stumbling at a mole-hill; yet felt inclined
to take umbrage at a toast, which seemed, from the glance of
Balmawhapple's eye, to have a peculiar and uncivil reference to
the Government which he served.  But, ere he could interfere, the
Baron of Bradwardine had taken up the quarrel.  'Sir,' he said,
'whatever my sentiments, TANQUAM PRIVATUS, may be in such
matters, I shall not tamely endure your saying anything that may
impinge upon the honourable feelings of a gentleman under my
roof. Sir, if you have no respect for the laws of urbanity, do ye
not respect the military oath, the SACRAMENTUM MILITARE, by which
every officer is bound to the standards under which he is
enrolled?  Look at Titus Livius, what he says of those Roman
soldiers who were so unhappy as EXUERE SACRAMENTUM,--to renounce
their legionary oath; but you are ignorant, sir, alike of ancient
history and modern courtesy.'

'Not so ignorant as ye would pronounce me,' roared Balmawhapple.
'I ken weel that you mean the Solemn League and Covenant; but if
a' the Whigs in hell had taken the--'

Here the Baron and Waverley both spoke at once, the former
calling out, 'Be silent, sir!  ye not only show your ignorance,
but disgrace your native country before a stranger and an
Englishman;' and Waverley, at the same moment, entreating Mr.
Bradwardine to permit him to reply to an affront which seemed
levelled at him personally.  But the Baron was exalted by wine,
wrath, and scorn, above all sublunary considerations.

'I crave you to be hushed, Captain Waverley; you are elsewhere,
peradventure, SUI JURIS,--foris-familiated, that is, and
entitled, it may be, to think and resent for yourself; but in my
domain, in this poor Barony of Bradwardine, and under this roof,
which is QUASI mine, being held by tacit relocation by a tenant
at will, I am IN LOCO PARENTIS to you, and bound to see you
scathless.--And for you, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple, I warn ye,
let me see no more aberrations from the paths of good manners.'

'And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, of Bradwardine and
Tully-Veolan,' retorted the sportsman, in huge disdain, 'that
I'll make a moor-cock of the man that refuses my toast, whether
it be a crop-eared English Whig wi' a black ribband at his lug,
or ane wha deserts his ain friends to claw favour wi' the rats of
Hanover.'

In an instant both rapiers were brandished, and some desperate
passes exchanged.  Balmawhapple was young, stout, and active; but
the Baron, infinitely more master of his weapon, would, like Sir
Toby Belch, have tickled his opponent other gates than he did,
had he not been under the influence of Ursa Major.

Edward rushed forward to interfere between the combatants, but
the prostrate bulk of the Laird of Killancureit, over which he
stumbled, intercepted his passage.  How Killancureit happened to
be in this recumbent posture at so interesting a moment, was
never accurately known.  Some thought he was about to ensconce
himself under the table; he himself alleged that he stumbled in
the act of lifting a joint-stool, to prevent mischief, by
knocking down Balmawhapple.  Be that as it may, if readier aid
than either his or Waverley's had not interposed, there would
certainly have been bloodshed.  But the well-known clash of
swords, which was no stranger to her dwelling, aroused Luckie
Macleary as she sat quietly beyond the hallan, or earthen
partition of the cottage, with eyes employed on Boston's CROOK OF
THE LOT, while her ideas were engaged in summing up the
reckoning.  She boldly rushed in, with the shrill expostulation,
'Wad their honours slay ane another there, and bring discredit on
an honest widow-woman's house, when there was a' the lee-land in
the country to fight upon?'  a remonstrance which she seconded by
flinging her plaid with great dexterity over the weapons of the
combatants.  The servants by this time rushed in, and being, by
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 with difficulty got
him to horse.  Our hero, with the assistance of Saunders
Saunderson, escorted the Baron of Bradwardine 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, however, there was not a word intelligible,
except something about the Centaurs and the Lapithae.



CHAPTER XII

REPENTANCE AND A RECONCILIATION

Waverley was unaccustomed to the use of wine, excepting with
great temperance.  He slept, therefore, soundly till late in the
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 had 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 insult, he would break
the laws of Heaven, as well as of his country; true, in doing so,
he might take the life of a young man who perhaps respectably
discharged the social duties, and render his family miserable; or
he might lose his own;--no pleasant alternative even to the
bravest, when it is debated coolly and in private.

All this pressed on his mind; yet the original statement recurred
with the same irresistible force.  He had received a personal
insult; he was of the house of Waverley; and he bore a
commission.  There was no alternative; and he descended to the
breakfast parlour with the intention of taking leave of the
family, and writing to one of his brother officers to meet him at
the inn mid-way between Tully-Veolan and the town where they were
quartered, in order that he might convey such a message to the
Laird of Balmawhapple as the circumstances seemed to demand.  He
found Miss Bradwardine presiding over the tea and coffee, the
table loaded with warm bread, both of flour, oatmeal, and barley-
meal, in the shape of leaves, cakes, biscuits, and other
varieties, together with eggs, reindeer ham, mutton and beef,
ditto, smoked salmon, marmalade, and all other delicacies which
induced even Johnson himself to extol the luxury of a Scotch
breakfast above that of all other countries.  A mess of oatmeal
porridge, flanked by a silver jug, which held an equal mixture of
cream and butter-milk, was placed for the Baron's share of this
repast; but Rose 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 Bradwardine a
favourable opinion of his talents for conversation.  He answered
at random one or two observations which she ventured to make upon
ordinary topics; so that feeling herself almost repulsed in her
efforts at entertaining him, and secretly wondering that a
scarlet coat should cover no better breeding, she left him to his
mental amusement of cursing Dr. Doubleit's favourite
constellation of Ursa Major, as the cause of all the mischief
which had already happened, and was likely to ensue.  At once he
started, and his colour heightened, as, looking toward the
window, he beheld the Baron and young Balmawhapple pass arm in
arm, apparently in deep conversation; and he hastily asked, 'Did
Mr. Falconer sleep here last night?'  Rose, not much pleased with
the abruptness of the first question which the young stranger had
addressed to her, answered drily in the negative, and the
conversation again sank into silence.

At this moment Mr. Saunderson appeared, with a message from his
master, requesting to speak with Captain Waverley in another
apartment.  With a heart which beat; a little quicker, not indeed
from fear, but from uncertainty and anxiety, Edward obeyed the
summons.  He found the two gentlemen standing together, an air of
complacent dignity on the brow of the Baron, while something like
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 Waverley, and, stopping in the midst of
the apartment, made in great state the following oration:
'Captain Waverley,--my young and esteemed friend, Mr. Falconer of
Balmawhapple, has craved of my age and experience, as of one not
wholly unskilled in the dependencies and punctilios of the duello
or monomachia, to be his interlocutor in expressing to you the
regret with which he calls to remembrance certain passages of our
symposion last night, which could not but be highly displeasing
to you, as serving for the time under this present existing
government.  He craves you, sir, to drown in oblivion the memory
of such solecisms against the laws of politeness, as being what
his better reason disavows, and to receive the hand which he
offers you in amity; and I must needs assure you, that nothing
less than a sense of being DANS SON TORT, as a gallant French
chevalier, Mons, Le Bretailleur, once said to me on such an
occasion, and an opinion also of your peculiar merit, could have
extorted such concessions; for he and all his family are, and
have been time out of mind, MAVORTIA PECTORA, as Buchanan saith,
a bold and warlike sept, or people.'

Edward immediately, and with natural politeness, accepted the
hand which Balmawhapple, or rather the Baron in his character of
mediator, extended towards him.  'It was impossible,' he said,
'for him to remember what a gentleman expressed his wish he had
not uttered; and he willingly imputed what had passed to the
exuberant festivity of the day.'

'That is very handsomely said,' answered the Baron; 'for
undoubtedly, if a man be EBRIUS, or intoxicated--an incident
which, on solemn and festive occasions, may and will take place
in the life of a man of honour; and if the same gentleman, being
fresh and sober, recants the contumelies which he hath spoken in
his liquor, it must be held VINUM LOCUTUM EST; the words cease to
be his own.  Yet would I not find this exculpation relevant in
the case of one who was EBRIOSUS, or an habitual drunkard;
because, if such a person choose to pass the greater part of his
time in the predicament of intoxication, he hath no title to be
exeemed from the obligations of the code of politeness, but
should learn to deport himself peaceably and courteously when
under the 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 satisfactory an explanation,
did much greater honour to the delicacies of Miss Bradwardine's
breakfast-table than his commencement had promised.
Balmawhapple, on the contrary, seemed embarrassed and dejected;
and Waverley now, for the first time, observed that his arm was
in a sling, which seemed to account for the awkward and
embarrassed manner with which he had presented his hand.  To a
question from Miss Bradwardine, he muttered, in answer, something
about his horse having fallen; and, seeming desirous to escape
both from the subject and the company, he 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 good-
natured and affectionate old gentleman heard the proposal, quite
deprived him of courage to persist in it.  No sooner had he
gained Waverley's consent to lengthen his visit for a few days,
than he laboured to remove the grounds upon which he conceived he
had meditated a more early retreat.  'I would not have you opine,
Captain Waverley, that I am by practice or precept an advocate of
ebriety, though it may be that, in our festivity of last night,
some of our friends, if not perchance altogether EBRII, or
drunken, were, to say the least, EBRIOLI, by which the ancients
designed those who were fuddled, or, as your English vernacular
and metaphorical phrase goes, half-seas-over.  Not that I would
so insinuate respecting you, Captain Waverley, who, like a
prudent youth, did rather abstain from potation; nor can it be
truly said of myself, who, having assisted at the tables of many
great generals and marechals at their solemn carousals, have the
art to carry my wine discreetly, and did not, during the whole
evening, as ye must have doubtless observed, exceed the bounds of
a modest hilarity.'

There was no refusing assent to a proposition so decidedly laid
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, was incomparably the most
drunk of the party, except perhaps his antagonist the Laird of
Balmawhapple.  However, having received the expected, or rather
the required, compliment on his sobriety, the Baron proceeded,--
'No, sir, though I am myself of a strong temperament, I abhor
ebriety, and detest those who swallow wine GULAE CAUSA, for the
oblectation of the gullet; albeit I might deprecate the law of
Pittacus of Mitylene, 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
hospitality; and it may be easily believed that he was neither
interrupted by dissent, nor any expression of incredulity.

He then invited his guest to a morning ride, and ordered that
Davie Gellatley should meet them at the DERN PATH with Ban and
Buscar.  'For, until the shooting season commenced, I would
willingly show you some sport, and we may, God willing, meet with
a roe.  The roe, Captain Waverley, may be hunted at all times
alike; for never being in what is called PRIDE OF GREASE, he is
also never out of season, though it be a truth that his venison
is not equal to that of either the red or fallow deer.  [The
learned in cookery dissent from the Baron of Bradwardine, and
hold the roe-venison dry and indifferent food, unless when
dressed in soup and Scotch collops.]  But he will serve to show
how my dogs run; and therefore they shall attend us with Davie
Gellatley.'

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, NEC 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,' continued the Baron,
'by saving Rose from a great danger with his own proper peril;
and the roguish loon must therefore eat of our bread and drink of
our cup, and do what he can, or what he will; which, if the
suspicions of Saunderson and the Bailie are well founded, may
perchance in his case be commensurate terms.'

Miss Bradwardine then gave Waverley to understand, that this poor
simpleton was doatingly fond of music, deeply affected by that
which was melancholy, and transported 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 applied, with considerable
address, as the vehicles of remonstrance, explanation, or satire.
Davie was much attached to the few who showed him kindness; and
both aware of any slight or ill usage which he happened to
receive, and sufficienty 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 had expressed
great compassion for the poor innocent while suffered to wander
in rags about the village, no sooner beheld him decently clothed,
provided for, and even a sort of favourite, than they called up
all the instances of sharpness and ingenuity, in action and
repartee, which his annals afforded, and charitably bottomed
thereupon a hypothesis, that Davie Gellatley was no further fool
than was necessary to avoid hard labour.  This opinion was not
better founded than that of the Negroes, who, from the acute and
mischievous pranks of the monkeys, suppose that they have the
gift of speech, and only suppress their powers of elocution to
escape being set to work.  But the hypothesis was entirely
imaginary:  Davie Gellatley 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 kept on the
windy side of insanity; so much wild wit as saved him from the
imputation of idiocy; some dexterity in field sports (in which we
have known as great fools excel), great kindness and humanity in
the treatment of animals entrusted to him, warm affections, a
prodigious memory, and an ear for music.

The stamping of horses was now heard in the court, and Davie's
voice singing to the two large deer greyhounds,--

  Hie away, hie away,
  Over bank and over brae,
  Where the copsewood 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 sings,' asked Waverley, 'belong to old Scottish
poetry, Miss Bradwardine?'

'I believe not,' she replied.  'This poor creature had a brother,
and Heaven, as if to compensate to the family Davie's
deficiencies, had given him what the hamlet thought uncommon
talents.  An uncle contrived to educate him for the Scottish
kirk, but he could not get preferment because he came from our
GROUND.  He returned from college hopeless and broken-hearted,
and fell into a decline.  My father supported him till his death,
which happened before he was nineteen.  He played beautifully on
the flute, and was supposed to have a great turn for poetry.  He
was affectionate and compassionate to his brother, who followed
him like his shadow, and we think that from him Davie gathered
many 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 lamentation; but was never heard to
give any explanation, or to mention his brother's name since his
death.'

'Surely,' said Edward, who was readily interested by a tale
bordering on the romantic, 'surely more might be learned by more
particular inquiry.'

'Perhaps so,' answered Rose, 'but my father will not permit any
one to practise on his feelings on this subject.'

By this time the Baron, with the help of Mr. Saunderson, had
indued a pair of jack-boots of large dimensions, and now invited
our hero to follow him as he stalked clattering down the ample
staircase, tapping each huge balustrade as he passed with the
butt of his massive horsewhip, and humming, with the air of a
chasseur of Louis Quatorze,

  Pour la chasse ordonnee il faut preparer tout,
  Hola ho!  Vite!  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 representative of the old
school.  His light-coloured embroidered coat, and superbly barred
waistcoat, his brigadier wig, surmounted by a small gold-laced
cocked-hat, completed his personal costume; but he was attended
by two well-mounted servants on horseback, armed with holster
pistols.

In this guise he ambled forth over hill and valley, the
admiration of every farmyard which they passed in their progress,
till, 'low down in a grassy vale,' they found Davie 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 booted 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 Sixty Years since, is now, and will be six hundred years
hence, if this admirable compound of folly and knavery, called
the world, shall be then in existence.

These GILLIE-WET-FOOTS, [A bare-footed Highland lad is called a
gillie-wet-foot.  Gillie, in general, means servant or
attendant.]  as they were called, were destined to beat the
bushes, which they performed with so much success, that, after
half an hour's search, a roe was started, coursed, and killed;
the Baron following on his white horse, like Earl Percy of yore,
and magnanimously flaying and embowelling the slain animal
(which, he observed, was called by the French chasseurs FAIRE LA
CUREE) with his own baronial COUTEAU DE CHASSE.  After this
ceremony he conducted his guest homeward by a pleasant and
circuitous route, commanding an extensive prospect of different
villages and houses, to each of which Mr. Bradwardine attached
some anecdote of history or genealogy, told in language whimsical
from prejudice and pedantry, but often respectable for the good
sense and honourable feelings which his narrative displayed, and
almost always curious, if not valuable, for the information they
contained.

The truth is, the ride seemed agreeable to both gentlemen,
because they found amusement in each other's conversation,
although their characters and habits of thinking were in many
respects totally opposite.  Edward, we have informed the reader,
was warm in his feelings, wild and romantic in his ideas and in
his taste of reading, with a strong disposition towards poetry.
Mr. Bradwardine was the reverse of all this, and piqued himself
upon stalking through life with the same upright, starched,
stoical gravity which distinguished his evening promenade upon
the terrace of Tully-Veolan, where for hours together--the very
model old Hardyknute--

   Stately stepped he east the wa',
   And stately stepped he west.

As for literature, he read the classic poets, to be sure, and the
EPITHALAMIUM of Georgius Buchanan, and Arthur Johnston's PSALMS,
of a Sunday; and the DELICIAE POETARUM SCOTORUM, and Sir David
Lindsay's WORKS, and Barbour's BRUCE, and Blind Harry's WALLACE,
and the GENTLE SHEPHERD, and the CHERRY AND THE SLAE.  But though
he thus far sacrificed his time to the Muses, he would if the
truth must be spoken, have been much better pleased had the pious
or sapient apothegms, as well as the historical narratives, which
these various works contained, been presented to him in the form
of simple prose.  And he sometimes could not refrain from
expressing contempt of the 'vain and unprofitable art of poem-
making,' in which, he said, 'the only one who had excelled in his
time was Allan Ramsay, the periwig-maker.'

[The Baron ought to have remembered that the joyous Allan
literally drew his blood from the house of the noble Earl, whom
he terms--

  Dalhousie of an old descent,
  My stoup, my pride, my ornament.]

But although Edward and he differed TOTO COELO, as the Baron
would have said, upon this subject, yet they met upon history as
on a neutral ground, in which each claimed an interest.  The
Baron, indeed, only cumbered his memory with matters of fact; the
cold, dry, hard outlines which history delineates.  Edward, on
the contrary, loved to fill up and round the sketch with the
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 narratives and powerful
memory supplied to Waverley fresh subjects of the kind upon which
his fancy loved to labour, and opened to him a new mine of
incident and of character.  And he repaid the pleasure thus
communicated, by an earnest attention, valuable to all story-
tellers, more especially to the Baron, who felt his habits of
self-respect flattered by it; and sometimes also by reciprocal
communications, which interested Mr. Bradwardine, as confirming
or illustrating his own favourite anecdotes.  Besides, Mr.
Bradwardine loved to talk of the scenes 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 witnessed.

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) BONAE SPEI ET MAGNAE INDOLIS, a youth devoid of
that petulant volatility, which is impatient of, or vilipends,
the conversation and advice of his seniors, from which he
predicted great things of his future success and deportment in
life.  There was no other guest except Mr. Rubrick, whose
information and discourse, as a clergyman and a scholar,
harmonized very well with that of the Baron and his guest.

Shortly after dinner, the Baron, as if to show that his
temperance was not entirely theoretical, proposed a visit to
Rose's appartment, or, as he termed it, her TROISIEME ETAGE.
Waverley was 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.
Rubrick and Waverley to follow at more leisure, while he should
announce their approach to his daughter.

After having climbed this perpendicular corkscrew until their
brains were almost giddy, they arrived in a little matted lobby,
which served as an ante-room to Rose's SANCTUM SANCTORUM, and
through which they entered her parlour.  It was a small but
pleasant apartment, opening to the south, and hung with tapestry;
adorned besides with two pictures, one of her mother, in the
dress of a shepherdess, with a bell-hoop; the other of the Baron,
in his tenth year, in a blue coat, embroidered waistcoat, laced
hat, and bag-wig, with a bow in his hand.  Edward could not help
smiling at the costume, and at the odd resemblance between the
round, smooth, red-checked, staring visage in the portrait, and
the gaunt, bearded, hollow-eyed, swarthy features, which
travelling, fatigues of war, and advanced age, had bestowed on
the original.  The Baron joined in the laugh.  'Truly,' he said,
'that picture was a woman's fantasy of my good mother's (a
daughter of the Laird of Tulliellum, Captain Waverley; I
indicated the house to you when we were on the top of the
Shinnyheuch; it was burnt by the Dutch auxiliaries brought in by
the Government in 1715); I never sat for my pourtraicture but
once since that was 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 memorable campaign of 1709, and his having there
defended himself with his half-pike for nearly ten minutes before
any support reached him.  To do the Baron justice, although
sufficiently prone to dwell upon, and even to exaggerate, his
family dignity and consequence, he was too much a man of real
courage ever to allude to such personal acts of merit as he had
himself manifested.

Miss Rose now appeared from the interior room of her apartment,
to welcome her father and his friends.  The little labours in
which she had been employed obviously showed a natural taste,
which required only cultivation.  Her father had taught her
French and Italian, and a few of the ordinary authors in those
languages ornamented her shelves.  He had endeavoured also to be
her preceptor in music; but as he began with the more abstruse
doctrines of the science, and was not perhaps master of them
himself, she had made no proficiency further 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 sang
with great taste and feeling, and with a respect to the sense of
what she uttered that might be proposed in example to ladies of
much superior musical talent.  Her natural good sense taught her,
that if, as we are assured by high authority, music be 'married
to immortal verse,' they are very often divorced by the performer
in a most shameful manner.  It was perhaps owing to this
sensibility to poetry, and power of combining its expression with
those of the musical notes, that her singing gave more pleasure
to all the unlearned in music, and even to many of the learned,
than could have been communicated by a much finer voice and more
brilliant execution, unguided by the same delicacy of feeling.

A bartizan, or projecting gallery, before the windows of her
parlour, served to illustrate another of Rose's pursuits; for it
was crowded with flowers of different kinds, which she had taken
under her special protection.  A projecting turret gave access to
this Gothic balcony, which commanded a most beautiful prospect.
The formal garden, with its high bounding walls, lay below,
contracted, as it seemed, to a mere parterre; while the view
extended beyond them down a wooded glen, where the small river
was sometimes visible, sometimes hidden in copse.  The eye might
be delayed by a desire to rest on the rocks, which here and there
rose from the dell with massive or spiry fronts, or it might
dwell on the noble, though ruined tower, which was here beheld in
all its dignity, frowning from a promontory over the river.  To
the left were seen two or three cottages, a part of the village;
the brow of the hill concealed the others.  The glen, or dell,
was terminated by a sheet of water, called Loch-Veolan, into
which the brook discharged itself, and which now glistened in the
western sun.  The distant country seemed open and varied in
surface, though not wooded; and there was nothing to interrupt
the view until the scene was bounded by a ridge of distant and
blue hills, which formed the southern boundary of the strath or
valley.  To this pleasant station Miss Bradwardine had ordered
coffee.

The view of the old tower, or fortalice, introduced some family
anecdotes and tales of Scottish chivalry, which the Baron told
with great enthusiasm.  The projecting peak of an impending crag
which rose near it, had acquired the name of St. Swithin's Chair.
it was the scene of a peculiar superstition, of which Mr. Rubrick
mentioned some curious particulars, which reminded Waverley of a
rhyme quoted By Edgar in KING LEAR; and Rose was called upon to
sing a little legend, in which they had been interwoven by some
village poet,

  Who, noteless as the race from which he sprung,
  Saved others' names, but left his own unsung.

The sweetness of her voice, and the simple beauty of her music,
gave all the advantage which the minstrel could have desired, and
which his poetry so much wanted.  I almost doubt if it can be
read with patience, destitute of these advantages; although I
conjecture the following copy to have been somewhat corrected by
Waverley, to suit the taste of those who might not relish pure
antiquity:--

  ST. SWITHIN'S CHAIR.

  On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere ye boune ye to rest,
  Ever beware that your couch be blessed;
  Sign it with cross, and sain it with bead,
  Sing the Ave, and say the Creed.

  For on Hallow-Mass Eve the Night-Hag will ride,
  And all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side,
  Whether the wind sing lowly or loud,
  Sailing through moonshine or swathed in the cloud.

  The Lady she sat in St. Swithin's Chair,
  The dew of the night has damped her hair:
  Her cheek was pale--but resolved and high
  Was the word of her lip and the glance of her eye.

  She muttered the spell of Swithin bold,
  When his naked foot traced the midnight wold,
  When he stopped 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 are there none of his weal or his woe,
  And fain the Lady his fate would know.

  She shudders and stops as the charm she speaks;-
  Is it the moody owl that shrieks?
  Or is it that sound, betwixt laughter and scream,
  The voice of the Demon who haunts the stream?

  The moan of the wind sunk silent and low,
  And the roaring torrent ceased to flow;
  The calm was more dreadful than raging storm,
  Then the cold grey mist brought the ghastly form!

  .   .   .   .   .   .

'I am sorry to disappoint the company, especially Captain
Waverley, who listens with such laudable gravity; it is but a
fragment, although I think there are other verses, describing the
return of the Baron from the wars, and how the lady was found
"clay-cold upon the grounsill ledge."'

'It is one of those figments,' observed Mr. Bradwardine, 'with
which the early history of distinguished families was deformed in
the times of superstition; as that of Rome, and other ancient
nations, had their prodigies, sir, the which you may read in
ancient histories, or in the little work compiled by Julius
Obsequens, and inscribed by the learned Scheffer, the editor, to
his patron, 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 rout by a sudden
apparition of the foul fiend.'

Waverley looked as if desirous to hear more.

Must I tell my story as well as sing my song?--Well.--Once upon a
time there lived an old woman, called Janet Gellatley, who was
suspected to be a witch, on the infallible grounds that she was
very old, very ugly, very poor, and had two sons, one of whom was
a poet, and the other a fool, which visitation, all the
neighbourhood agreed, had come upon her for the sin of
witchcraft.  And she was imprisoned for a week in the steeple of
the parish church, and sparingly supplied with food, and not
permitted to sleep, until she herself became as much persuaded of
her being a witch as her accusers; and in this lucid and happy
state of mind was brought forth to make a clean breast, that is,
to make open confession of her sorceries, before all the Whig
gentry and ministers in the vicinity, who were no conjurers
themselves.  My father went to see fair play between the witch
and the clergy; for the witch had been born on his estate.  'And
while the witch was confessing that the Enemy appeared, and made
his addresses to her as a handsome black man,--which, if you
could have seen poor old blear-eyed Janet, reflected little
honour on Apollyon's taste,--and while the auditors listened with
astonished ears, and the clerk recorded with a trembling hand,
she, all of a sudden, changed the low mumbling tone with which
she spoke into a shrill yell, and exclaimed, "Look to yourselves!
look to yourselves!  I see the Evil One sitting in the midst of
ye." The surprise was general, and terror and flight its
immediate consequences.  Happy were those who were next the door;
and many were the disasters that befell hats, bands, cuffs, and
wigs, before they could get out of the church, where they left
the obstinate prelatist to settle matters with the witch and her
admirer, at his own peril or pleasure.'

'RISU SOLVUNTUR TABULAE,' said the Baron:  'when they recovered
their panic trepidation, they were too much ashamed to bring any
wakening of the process against Janet Gellatley.'  [The story
last told was said to have happened in the south of Scotland;
but--CEDANT ARMA TOGAE--and let the gown have its dues.  It was
an old clergyman, who had wisdom and firmness enough to resist
the panic which seized his brethren, who was the means of
rescuing a poor insane creature from the cruel fate which would
otherwise have overtaken her.  The accounts of the trials for
witchcraft form one of the most deplorable chapters in Scottish
story.]

This anecdote led to a long discussion of

  All those idle thoughts and fantasies,
  Devices, dreams, opinions unsound,
  Shows, visions, soothsays, and prophecies,
  And all that feigned is, as leasings, tales, and lies.

With such conversation, and the romantic legends which it
produced, closed our hero's second evening in the house of Tully-
Veolan.



CHAPTER XIV

A DISCOVERY--WAVERLEY BECOMES DOMESTICATED AT
TULLY-VEOLAN

The next day Edward arose betimes, and in a morning walk around
the house and its vicinity, came suddenly upon a small court in
front of the dog-kennel, where his friend Davie was employed
about his four-footed charge.  One quick glance of his eye
recognized 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 MERRY THE LITTLE BIRD SING?
  Old men's love the longest will last,
  AND THE THROSTLE-COCK'S HEAD IS UNDER HIS WING.

  The young man's wrath is like light straw on fire;
  HEARD YE SO MERRY THE LITTLE BIRD SING?
  But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire,
  AND THE THROSTLE-COCK'S HEAD IS UNDER HIS WING.

  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 UNDER HIS WING.

Waverley could not avoid observing that Davie laid something like
a satirical emphasis on these lines.  He therefore approached,
and endeavoured, by sundry queries, to elicit from him what the
innuendo might mean; but Davie had no mind to explain, and had
wit enough to make his folly cloak his knavery.  Edward could
collect nothing from him, excepting that the Laird of
Balmawhapple had gone home yesterday morning, 'wi' his boots fu'
o' bluid.'  In the garden, however, he met the old butler, who no
longer attempted to conceal, that, having been bred in the
nursery line with Sumack & Co., of Newcastle, he sometimes
wrought a turn in the flower-borders to oblige the Laird and Miss
Rose.  By a series of queries, Edward at length discovered, with
a painful feeling of surprise and shame, that Balmawhapple's
submission and apology had been the consequence of a rencontre
with the Baron before his guest had quitted his pillow, in which
the younger combatant had been disarmed and wounded in the 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 anticipating his meeting with Mr.
Falconer, a circumstance which, considering his youth and the
profession of arms which he had just adopted, was capable of
being represented much to his prejudice.  The Baron justified
himself at greater length than I choose to repeat.  He urged that
the quarrel was common to them, and that Balmawhapple could not,
by the code of honour, EVITE giving satisfaction to both, which
he had done in his case by an honourable meeting, and in that of
Edward by such a PALINODE as rendered the use of the sword
unnecessary, and which, being made and accepted, must necessarily
SOPITE the whole affair.

With this excuse or explanation, Waverley was silenced, if not
satisfied; but he could not help testifying some displeasure
against the Blessed Bear, which had given rise to the quarrel,
nor refrain from hinting, that the sanctified epithet was hardly
appropriate.  The Baron observed, he could not deny that 'the
Bear, though allowed by heralds as a most honourable ordinary,
had, nevertheless, somewhat fierce, churlish, and morose in his
disposition (as might be read in Archibald Simson, pastor of
Dalkeith's HIEROGLYPHICA ANIMALIUM), and had thus been the type
of many quarrels and dissensions which had occurred in the house
of Bradwardine; of which,' he continued, 'I might commemorate
mine own unfortunate dissension with my third cousin by the
mother's side, Sir Hew Halbert, who was so unthinking as to
deride my family name, as if it had been QUASI BEARWARDEN; a most
uncivil jest, since it not only insinuated that the founder of
our house occupied such a mean situation as to be a custodier of
wild beasts, a charge which, ye must have observed, is only
entrusted to the very basest plebeians; but, moreover, seemed to
infer that our coat-armour had not been achieved by honourable
actions in war, but bestowed by way of PARONOMASIA, or pun upon
our family appellation,--a sort of bearing which the French call
ARMOIRES PARLANTES; the Latins ARMA CANTANTIA; and your English
authorities, canting heraldry; being indeed a species of
emblazoning more befitting canters, gaberlunzies, and such-like
mendicants, whose gibberish is formed upon playing upon the word,
than the noble, honourable, and useful science of heraldry, which
assigns armorial bearings as the reward of noble and generous
actions, and not to tickle the ear with vain quodlibets, such as
are found in jest-books.'  [See Note 9.]  Of his quarrel with Sir
Hew, he said nothing more, than that it was settled in a fitting
manner.

Having been so minute with respect to the diversions of Tully-
Veolan, on the first days of Edward's arrival, for the purpose of
introducing its inmates to the reader's acquaintance, it becomes
less necessary to trace the progress of his intercourse with the
same accuracy.  It is probable that a young man, accustomed to
more cheerful society, would have tired of the conversation of so
violent an asserter of the 'boast of heraldry' as the Baron; but
Edward found an agreeable variety in that of Miss Bradwardine,
who listened with eagerness to his remarks upon literature, and
showed great justness of taste in her answers.  The sweetness of
her disposition 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 contented to give her only such a
slight tincture as might be acquired by perusal of the two folio
volumes of Nisbet.  Rose was indeed the very apple of her
father's eye.  Her constant liveliness, her attention to all
those little observances most 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 disposition, would have justified the affection
of the most doting 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 labouring, namely, to establish
her in life, either by a large dowry or a wealthy marriage.  By
an old settlement, almost all the landed estates of the Baron
went, after his death, to a distant relation; and it was supposed
that Miss Bradwardine would remain but slenderly provided for, as
the good gentleman's cash matters had been too long under the
exclusive charge of Bailie Macwheeble, to admit of any great
expectations from his personal succession.  It is true, the said
Bailie loved his patron and his patron's daughter next (although
at an incomparable distance) to himself.  He thought it was
possible to set aside the settlement on the male line, and had
actually procured an opinion to that effect (and, as he boasted,
without a fee) from an eminent Scottish counsel, under whose
notice he contrived to bring the point while consulting him
regularly on some other business.  But the Baron would not listen
to such a proposal for an instant.  On the contrary, he used to
have a perverse pleasure in boasting that the barony of
Bradwardine was a male fief, the first charter having been given
at that early period when women were not deemed capable to hold a
feudal grant; because, according to Les COUSTUSMES DE NORMANDIE,
C'EST L'HOMME KI SE BAST ET KI CONSEILLE; or, as is yet more
ungallantly expressed by other authorities, all of whose
barbarous names he delighted to quote at full length, because a
woman could not serve the superior, or feudal lord, in war, on
account of the decorum of her sex, nor assist him with advice,
because of her limited intellect, nor keep his counsel, owing to
the infirmity of her disposition.  He would triumphantly ask, how
it would become a female, and that female a Bradwardine, to be
seen employed in, SERVITIO EXUENDI, SEU DETRAHENDI, CALIGAS REGIS
POST BATTALIAM?  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, 'beyond hesitation, PROCUL
DUBIO, many females, as worthy as Rose, had been excluded, in
order to make way for my own succession, and Heaven forbid that I
should do aught that might contravene the destination of my
forefathers, or impinge upon the right of my kinsman, Malcolm
Bradwardine of Inchgrabbit, an honourable though decayed branch
of my own family.'

The Bailie, as prime minister, having received this decisive
communication from his sovereign, durst not press his own
opinion any further, but contented himself with deploring, on
all suitable occasions, to Saunderson, the minister of the
interior, the Laird's self-willedness, and with laying plans for
uniting Rose with the young laird of Balmawhapple, who had a fine
estate, only moderately burdened, and was a faultless young
gentleman, being as sober as a saint--if you keep brandy from
him, and him from brandy--and who, in brief, had no imperfection
but that of keeping light company at a time; such as Jinker, the
horse-couper, and Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the piper o' Cupar; o'
whilk follies, Mr. Saunderson, he'll mend, he'll mend,'--
pronounced the Bailie.

'Like sour ale in simmer,' added 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
simplicity and curiosity of a recluse, attached 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
them with one of a kindred taste.  Edward's readiness to comment,
to recite, to explain difficult passages, rendered his assistance
invaluable; and the wild romance of his spirit delighted a
character too young and inexperienced to observe its
deficiencies.  Upon subjects which interested him, and when quite
at ease, he possessed that flow of natural, and somewhat florid
eloquence, which has been supposed as powerful even as figure,
fashion, fame, or fortune, in winning the female heart.  There
was, therefore, an increasing danger in this constant
intercourse, to poor Rose's peace of mind, which was the more
imminent, as her father was greatly too much abstracted in his
studies, and wrapped up in his own dignity, to dream of his
daughter's incurring it.  The daughters of the house of
Bradwardine were, in his opinion, like those of the house of
Bourbon or Austria, placed high above the clouds of passion which
might obfuscate the intellects of meaner females; they moved in
another sphere, were governed by other feelings, and amenable to
other rules, than those of idle and fantastic affection.  In
short, he shut his eyes so resolutely to the natural consequences
of Edward's intimacy with Miss Bradwardine, that the whole
neighbourhood concluded that he had opened them to the advantages
of a match between his daughter and the wealthy young Englishman,
and pronounced him much less a fool than he had generally shown
himself in cases where his own interest was concerned.

If the Baron, however, had really meditated such an alliance, 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 described her, had
not precisely the sort of beauty or merit which captivates a
romantic imagination in early youth.  She was too frank, too
confiding, too kind; amiable qualities, undoubtedly, but
destructive of the marvellous, with which a youth of imagination
delights to address the empress of his affections.  Was it
possible to bow, to tremble, and to adore, before the timid, yet
playful little girl, who now asked Edward to mend her pen, now to
construe a stanza in Tasso, and now how to spell a very--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 affection may dignify him in his own eyes, than stooping to
one who looks up to him for such distinction.  Hence, though
there can be no rule in so capricious a passion, early love is
frequently ambitious in choosing its object; or, which comes to
the same, selects her (as in the case of Saint Cecilia aforesaid)
from a situation that gives fair scope for LE BEAU IDEAL, which
the reality of intimate and familiar life rather tends to limit
and impair.  I knew a very accomplished and sensible young man
cured of a violent passion for a pretty woman, whose talents
were not equal to her face and figure, by being permitted to bear
her company for a whole afternoon.  Thus it is certain, that had
Edward enjoyed such an opportunity of conversing with Miss
Stubbs, Aunt Rachel's precaution would have been unnecessary, for
he would as soon have fallen in love with the dairymaid.  And
although Miss Bradwardine was a very different character, 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 accomplished sister; while the
sentiments of poor Rose were gradually, and without her being
conscious, assuming a shade of warmer affection.

I ought to have said that Edward, when he sent to Dundee for the
books before mentioned, had applied for, and received permission,
extending his leave of absence.  But the letter of his
commanding-officer contained a friendly recommendation to him,
not to spend his time exclusively with persons, who, estimable as
they might be in a general sense, could not be supposed well
affected to a government which they declined to acknowledge by
taking the oath of allegiance.  The letter further insinuated,
though with great delicacy, that although some family connexions
might be supposed to render it necessary for Captain Waverley to
communicate with gentlemen who were in this unpleasant state of
suspicion, yet his father's situation and wishes ought to prevent
his prolonging those attentions into exclusive intimacy.  And it
was intimated, that; while his political principles were
endangered by communicating with laymen of this description, he
might also receive erroneous impressions in religion from the
prelatic clergy, who so perversely laboured to set up the royal
prerogative in things sacred.

This last insinuation probably induced Waverley to set both down
to the prejudices of his commanding-officer.  He was 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 partisan of the exiled family, but had
been trusted at different times with important commissions for
their service.  Sensible, therefore, that there was no risk of
his being perverted from his allegiance, Edward felt as if he
should do his uncle's old friend injustice in removing from a
house where he gave and received pleasure and amusement, merely
to gratify a prejudiced and ill-judged suspicion, He therefore
wrote a very general answer, assuring his commanding-officer that
his loyalty was not in the most distant danger of contamination,
and continued an honoured guest and inmate of the house of Tully-
Veolan.



CHAPTER XV

A CREAGH, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
[A CREAGH was an incursion for plunder, termed on the Borders a raid.]

When Edward had been a guest at Tully-Veolan nearly six weeks, he
descried one morning, as he took his usual walk before the
breakfast-hour, signs of uncommon perturbation in the family.
Four bare-legged dairymaids, with each an empty milk-pail in her
hand, ran about with frantic gestures, and uttering loud
exclamations of surprise, grief, and resentment.  From their
appearance, a pagan might have conceived them a detachment of the
celebrated Belides, just come from their baling 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
forecourt, as it was called, where he beheld Bailie Macwheeble
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 Bailie, greatly too busy, and too important, to enter into
explanations with Edward, summoned forth Mr. Saunderson, who
appeared with a countenance in which dismay was mingled with
solemnity, and they immediately entered into close conference.
Davie Gellatley was also seen in the group, idle as Diogenes at
Sinope, while his countrymen were preparing for a siege.  His
spirits always rose with anything, good or bad, which occasioned
tumult, and he continued frisking, hopping, dancing, and singing
the burden of an old ballad,

  Our gear's a' gane,

until, happening to pass too near the Bailie, he received an
admonitory hint from his horsewhip, which converted his songs
into lamentation.

Passing from thence towards the garden, Waverley beheld the Baron
in person, measuring and re-measuring, with swift and tremendous
strides, the length of the terrace; his countenance clouded with
offended pride and indignation, and the whole of his demeanour
such as seemed to indicate, that any inquiry concerning the cause
of his discomposure would give pain at least, if not offence.
Waverley therefore glided into the house, without addressing him,
and took his way to the breakfast parlour, where he found his
young friend Rose, who, though she neither exhibited the
resentment of her father, the turbid importance of Bailie
Macwheeble, nor the despair of the hand-maidens, seemed vexed and
thoughtful.  A single word explained the mystery.  'Your
breakfast will be a disturbed one, Captain Waverley, A party of
Caterans have come down upon us, last night, and have driven off
all our milch cows.'

'A party of Caterans?'

'Yes; robbers from the neighbouring Highlands.  We used to be
quite free from them while we paid blackmail 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 is so bold
and hot, that I fear he will try to recover them by the strong
hand; and if he is not hurt himself, he will hurt some of these
wild people, and then there will be no peace between them and us
perhaps for our lifetime; and we cannot defend ourselves as is
old times, for the government have taken all our arms; and my
dear father is so rash--Oh, 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
yeoman!  Captain Waverley, I must request your favourable
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 sornars, [Sornars may be
translated sturdy beggars, more especially indicating those
unwelcome visitors who exact lodgings and victuals by force, or
something approaching to it.]  while we are not allowed to keep
half a score of muskets, whether for defence or rescue.'

Bailie Macwheeble entered immediately afterwards, and by his
report of arms and ammunition confirmed this statement, informing
the Baron, in a melancholy voice, that though the people would
certainly obey his honour's orders, yet there was no chance of
their following the gear to ony guid purpose, in respect there
were only his honour's body servants who had swords and pistols,
and the depredators were twelve Highlanders, completely armed
after the manner of their country.--Having delivered this doleful
annunciation, he assumed a posture of silent dejection, shaking
his head slowly with the motion of a pendulum when it is ceasing
to vibrate, and then remained stationary, his body stooping at a
more acute angle than usual, and the latter part of his person
projecting in proportion.

The Baron, meanwhile, paced the room in silent indignation, and
at length fixing his eye upon an old portrait, whose person was
clad in armour, and whose features glared grimly out of a huge
bush of hair, part of which descended from his head to his
shoulders, and part from his chin and upper-lip to his
breastplate,--'That gentleman, Captain Waverley, my grandsire,'
he said, 'with two hundred horse, whom he levied within his own
bounds, discomfited and put to the rout more than five hundred of
these Highland reivers, who have been ever LAPIS OFFENSIONIS, ET
PETRA SCANDALI, a stumbling-block and a rock of offence to the
Lowland vicinage--he discomfited them, I say, when they had the
temerity to descend to harry this country, in the time of the
civil dissensions, in the year of grace sixteen hundred forty and
two.  And now, sir, I, his grandson, am thus used at such
unworthy hands!'

Here there was an awful pause; after which all the company, as is
usual in cases of difficulty, began to give separate and
inconsistent counsel.  Alexander ab Alexandro proposed they
should send some one to compound with the Caterans, who would
readily, he said, give up their prey for a dollar a head.  The
Bailie opined that this transaction would amount to theft-boot,
or composition of felony; and he recommended that some CANNY HAND
should be sent up to the glens to make the best bargain he could,
as it were for himself, so that the laird might not be seen in
such a transaction.  Edward proposed to send off to the nearest
garrison for a party of soldiers and a magistrate's warrant; and
Rose, as far as she dared, endeavoured to insinuate the course of
paying the arrears of tribute money to Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian
Vohr, who, they all knew, could easily procure restoration of the
cattle, if he were properly propitiated.

None of these proposals met the Baron's approbation.  The idea of
composition, direct or implied, was absolutely ignominious; that
of Waverley only showed that he did not understand the state of
the country, and of the political parties which divided it; and,
standing matters as they did with Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr,
the Baron would make no concession to him, were it, he said, (to
procure restitution IN INTEGRUM of every stirk and stot that the
chief, his forefathers, and his clan, had stolen since the days
of Malcolm Canmore.'

In fact, his voice was still for war, and he proposed to send
expresses to Balmawhapple, Killancureit, Tulliellum, and other
lairds, who were exposed to similar depredations, inviting them
to join in the pursuit; 'and then, sir, shall these NEBULONES
NEQUISSIMI, as Leslaeus calls them, be brought to the fate of
their predecessor Cacus,

  Elisos oculos, et siccum sanguine guttur.'

The Bailie, who by no means relished these warlike counsels, here
pulled forth an immense watch, of the colour, and nearly of the
size, of a pewter warming-pan, and observed it was now past noon,
and that the Caterans had been seen in the pass of Bally-Brough
soon after sunrise; so that before the allied forces could
assemble, they and their prey would be far beyond the reach of
the most active pursuit, and sheltered in those pathless deserts
where it was neither advisable to follow, nor indeed possible to
trace them.

This proposition was undeniable.  The council therefore broke up
without coming to any conclusion, as has occurred to councils of
more importance; only it was determined that the Bailie should
send his own three milk-cows down to the Mains for the use of the
Baron's family, and brew small ale, as a substitute for milk, in
his own.  To this arrangement, which was suggested by Saunderson,
the Bailie readily assented, both from habitual deference to the
family, and an internal consciousness that his courtesy would, in
some mode or other, be repaid tenfold.

The Baron having also retired to give some necessary directions,
Waverley seized the opportunity to ask, whether this Fergus, with
the unpronounceable name, was the chief thief-taker of the
district.

'Thief-taker!'  answered Rose, laughing; 'he is a gentleman of
great honour and consequence; the chieftain of an independent
branch of a powerful Highland clan, and is much respected, both
for his own power, and that of his kith, kin, and allies.'

'And what has he to do with the thieves, then?  is he a
magistrate, or in the commission of the peace?'  asked Waverley.

The commission of war rather, if there be such a thing,' said
Rose; 'for he is a very unquiet neighbour to his un-friends, and
keeps a greater FOLLOWING on foot than many that have thrice his
estates.  As to his connexion with the thieves, that I cannot
well explain; but the boldest of them will never steal a hoof
from any one that pays blackmail to Vich Ian Vohr.'

'And what is blackmail?'

'A sort of protection-money that Low-country gentlemen and
heritors, lying near the Highlands, pay to some Highland chief,
that he may neither do them harm himself, nor suffer it to be
done to them by others; and then, if your cattle are stolen, you
have only to send him word, and he will recover them; or it may
be, he will drive away cows from some distant place, where he has
a quarrel, and give them to you to make up your loss.'

'And is this sort of Highland Jonathan Wild admitted into
society, and called a gentleman?'

'So much so,' said Rose, 'that the quarrel between my father and
Fergus Mac-Ivor began at a county meeting, where he wanted to
take precedence of all the Lowland gentlemen then present, only
my father would not suffer it.  And then he upbraided my father
that he was under his banner, and paid him tribute; and my father
was in a towering passion, for Bailie Macwheeble, who manages
such things his own way, had contrived to keep this blackmail 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.  Oh, I wish, I wish they
had continued friends!'

'And did you ever see this Mr. Mac-Ivor, if that be his name,
Miss Bradwardine?'

'No, that is not his name; and he would consider MASTER as a sort
of affront, only that you are an Englishman, and know no better.
But the Lowlanders call him, like other gentlemen, by the name of
his estate, Glennaquoich; and the Highlanders call him Vich Ian
Vohr, that is, the son of John the Great; and we upon the braes
here call him by both names indifferently.'

I am afraid I shall never bring my English tongue to call him by
either one or other.'

'But he is a very polite, handsome man,' continued Rose; 'and his
sister Flora is one of the most beautiful and accomplished young
ladies in this country:  she was bred in a convent in France, and
was a great friend of mine before this unhappy dispute.  Dear
Captain Waverley, try your influence with my father to make
matters up.  I am sure this is but the beginning of our troubles;
for Tully-Veolan has never been a safe or quiet residence when we
have been at feud with the Highlanders.  When I was a girl about
ten, there was a skirmish fought between a party of twenty of
them, and my father and his servants, behind the Mains; and the
bullets broke several panes in the north windows, they were so
near.  Three of the Highlanders were killed, and they brought
them in, wrapped in their plaids, and laid them on the stone
floor of the hall; and next morning, their wives and daughters
came, clapping their hands, and crying the coronach, and
shrieking, and carried away the dead bodies, with the pipes
playing before them.  I could not sleep for six weeks without
starting, and thinking I heard these terrible cries, and saw the
bodies lying on the steps, all stiff and swathed up in their
bloody tartans.  But since that time there came a party from the
garrison at Stirling, with a 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 witnessed with her own eyes such a scene as
he had used to conjure up in his imagination, as only occurring
in ancient times, and spoke of it coolly, as one very likely to
recur.  He felt at once the impulse of curiosity, and that slight
sense of danger which only serves to heighten its interest.  He
might have said with Malvolio, '"I do not now fool myself, to let
imagination jade me!" I am actually in the land of military and
romantic adventures, and it only remains to be seen what will be
my own share in them.'

The whole circumstances now detailed concerning the state of the
country, seemed equally novel and extraordinary.  He had indeed
often heard of Highland thieves, but had no idea of the
systematic mode in which their depredations were conducted; and
that the practice was connived at, and even encouraged, by many
of the Highland chieftains, who not only found the creaghs, or
forays, useful for the purpose of training individuals of their
clan to the practice of arms, but also of maintaining a wholesome
terror among their Lowland neighbours, and levying, as we have
seen, a tribute from them, under colour of protection-money.

Bailie Macwheeble, who soon afterwards entered, expatiated still
more at length upon the same topic.  This honest gentleman's
conversation was so formed upon his professional practice, that
Davie Gellatley once said his discourse was like 'a charge of
horning.'  He assured our hero, that 'from the maist ancient
times of record, the lawless thieves, limmers, and broken men of
the Highlands, had been in fellowship together by reason of their
surnames, for the committing of divers thefts, reifs, and
herships upon the honest men of the Low Country, when they not
only intromitted with their whole goods and gear, corn, cattle,
horse, nolt, sheep, outsight and insight plenishing, at their
wicked pleasure, but moreover made prisoners, ransomed them, or
concussed them into giving borrows (pledges) to enter into
captivity 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 follow thereupon, were
shamefully broken and vilipended by the said sornars, limmers,
and broken men, associated into fellowships, for the aforesaid
purposes of theft, stouthreef, fire-raising, murther, RAPTUS
MULIERUM, or forcible abduction of women, and such like as
aforesaid.'

It seemed like a dream to Waverley that these deeds of violence
should be familiar to men's minds, and currently talked of, as
falling within the common order of things, and happening daily in
the immediate vicinity, without his having crossed the seas, and
while he was yet in the otherwise well-ordered island of Great
Britain.  [See Note 10.]



CHAPTER XVI

AN UNEXPECTED ALLY APPEARS

The Baron returned at the dinner-hour, and had in a great measure
recovered his composure and good humour.  He not only confirmed
the stories which Edward had heard from Rose and Bailie
Macwheeble, but added many anecdotes from his own experience,
concerning 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
their PROSAPIA, a lineage which rested for the most part on the
vain and fond rhymes of their Seannachies or Barahs, as
aequiponderate with the evidence of ancient charters and royal
grants of antiquity, conferred upon distinguished houses in the
Low Country by divers Scottish monarchs; nevertheless, such was
their OUTRECUIDANCE and presumption, as to undervalue those who
possessed such evidents, as if they held their lands in a sheep's
skin.'

This, by the way, pretty well explained the cause of quarrel
between the Baron and his Highland ally.  But he went on to state
so many curious particulars concerning the manners, customs, and
habits of this patriarchal race, that Edward's curiosity became
highly interested, and he inquired whether it was possible to
make with safety an excursion into the neighbouring Highlands,
whose dusky barrier of mountains had already excited his wish to
penetrate beyond them.  The Baron assured his guest that nothing
would be more easy, providing this quarrel were first made up,
since he could himself give him letters to many of the
distinguished chiefs, who would receive him with the utmost
courtesy and hospitality.

While they were on this topic, the door suddenly opened, and,
ushered by Saunders Saunderson, a Highlander, fully armed and
equipped, entered the apartment.  Had it not been that Saunders
acted the part of master of the ceremonies to this martial
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, young man, of low stature,
the ample folds of whose plaid added to the appearance of
strength which his person exhibited.  The short kilt, or
petticoat, showed his sinewy and clean-made limbs; the goat-skin
purse, flanked by the usual defences, a dirk and steel-wrought
pistol, hung before him; his bonnet had a short feather, which
indicated his claim to be treated as a Duinhe-wassel, or sort of
gentleman; a broadsword dangled by his side, a target hung upon
his shoulder, and a long Spanish fowling-piece occupied one of
his hands.  With the other hand he pulled off his bonnet, and the
Baron, who well knew their customs, and the proper mode of
addressing them, immediately said, with an air of dignity, but
without rising, and much, as Edward thought, in the manner of a
prince receiving an embassy, 'Welcome, Evan Dhu Maccombich!  what
news from Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr?'

'Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr,' said the ambassador, in good
English, 'greets you well, Baron of Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan,
and is sorry there has been a thick cloud interposed between you
and him, which has kept you from seeing and considering the
friendship and alliances that have been between your houses and
forebears 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 house of Bradwardine, when there was an egg
between them for a flint, and a knife for a sword.  And he
expects you will also say, you are sorry for the cloud, and no
man shall hereafter ask whether it descended from the hill to the
valley, or rose from the valley to the 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 gentleman of such sound principles, 'for when folks are
banding together, feeble is he who hath no brother.'

This appearing perfectly satisfactory, that the peace between
these august persons might be duly solemnized, the Baron ordered
a stoup of usquebaugh, and, filling a glass, drank to the health
and prosperity of Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich; upon which the Celtic
ambassador, to requite his politeness, turned down a mighty
bumper of the same generous liquor, seasoned with his good wishes
to the house of Bradwardine.

Having thus ratified the preliminaries of the general treaty of
pacification, the envoy retired to adjust with Mr. Macwheeble
some subordinate articles with which it was not thought necessary
to trouble the Baron.  These probably referred to the
discontinuance of the subsidy, and apparently the Bailie found
means to satisfy their ally, without suffering his master to
suppose that his dignity was compromised.  At least, it is
certain, that after the plenipotentiaries had drunk a bottle of
brandy in single drams, which seemed to have no more effect upon
such seasoned vessels, than if it had been poured upon the two
bears at the top of the avenue, Evan Dhu Maccombich, having
possessed himself of all the information which he could procure
respecting the robbery of the preceding night, declared his
intention to set off immediately in pursuit of the cattle, which
he pronounced to be 'not far off;--they have broken the 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 attention of Waverley, the interest he seemed to take in
his inquiries, and his curiosity about the customs and scenery of
the Highlands.  Without much ceremony he invited Edward to
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
was 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 welcome, there seemed nothing
very formidable in the task he undertook.  Rose, indeed, turned
pale when she heard of it; but her father, who loved the spirited
curiosity of his young friend, did not attempt to damp it by an
alarm of danger which really did not exist; and a knapsack, with
a few necessaries, being bound on the shoulders of a sort of
deputy gamekeeper, our hero set forth with a fowling-piece in his
hand, accompanied by his new friend Evan Dhu, and, followed by
the gamekeeper aforesaid, and by two wild Highlanders, the
attendants of Evan, one of whom had upon his shoulder a hatchet
at the end of a pole, called a Lochaber-axe, [The Town-guard of
Edinburgh were, till a late period, armed with this weapon when
on their police duty.  There was a hook at the back of the axe,
which the ancient Highlanders used to assist them to climb over
walls, fixing the hook upon it, and raising themselves by the
handle.  The axe, which was also much used by the natives of
Ireland, is supposed to have been introduced into both countries
from  Scandinavia.]  and the other a long ducking-gun.  Evan,
upon Edward's inquiry, gave him to understand that this martial
escort was by no means necessary as a guard, but merely, as he
said, drawing up and adjusting his plaid with an air of dignity,
that he might appear decently at Tully-Veolan, and as Vich Ian
Vohr's foster-brother ought to do.  'Ah!'  said he, 'if you Saxon
Duinhe-wassel (English gentlemen) saw but the Chief with his tail
on!'

'With his tail on!'  echoed Edward, in some surprise.

'Yes--that is, with all his usual followers, when he visits those
of the same rank.  There is,' he continued, stopping and drawing
himself proudly up, while he counted upon his fingers the several
officers of his chief's retinue--'there is his HANCH-MAN, or
right-hand man; then his BARDH, or poet; then his BLADIER, or
orator, to make harangues to the great folks whom he visits; then
his GILLY-MORE, or armour-bearer, to carry his sword and target,
and his gun; then his GILLY 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-TRUSHHARNISH, to carry his knapsack; and the piper and
the piper's man, and it may be a dozen young lads besides, 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?'  demanded
Waverley.

'All these!'  replied Evan; 'aye, 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 approached more closely those
huge mountains which Edward had hitherto only seen at a distance.
It was towards evening as they entered one of the tremendous
passes which afford communication between the High and Low
Country; the path, which was extremely steep and rugged, winded
up a chasm between two tremendous rocks, following the passage
which a foaming stream, that brawled far below, appeared to have
worn for itself in the course of ages.  A few slanting beams of
the sun, which was now setting, reached the water in its darksome
bed, and showed it partially, chafed by a hundred rocks, and
broken by a hundred falls.  The descent from the path to the
stream was a mere precipice, with here and there a projecting
fragment of granite, or a scathed tree, which had warped its
twisted roots into the fissures of the rock.  On the right hand,
the mountain rose above the path with almost equal
inaccessibility; but the hill on the opposite side displayed a
shroud of copsewood, with which some pines were intermingled.

'This,' said Evan, 'is the pass of Bally-Brough, which was kept
in former times by ten of the clan Donnochie against a 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.

It issued in a narrow glen, between two mountains, both very
lofty, and covered with heath.  The brook continued to be their
companion, and they advanced up its mazes, crossing them now and
then, on which occasions Even Dhu uniformly offered the
assistance of his attendants to carry over Edward; but our hero,
who had been always a tolerable pedestrian, declined the
accommodation, and obviously rose in his guide's opinion by
showing that he did not fear wetting his feet.  Indeed he was
anxious, so far as he could without affectation, to remove the
opinion which Evan seemed to entertain of the effeminacy of the
Lowlanders, and particularly of the English.

Through the gorge of this glen they found access to a black bog,
of tremendous extent, full of large pit-holes, which they
traversed with great difficulty and some danger, by tracks which
no one but a Highlander could have followed.  The path itself, or
rather the portion of more solid ground on which the travellers
half walked, half waded, was rough, broken, and in many places
quaggy and unsound.  Sometimes the ground was so completely
unsafe, that it was necessary to spring from one hillock to
another, the space between being incapable of bearing the human
weight.  This was an easy matter to the Highlanders, who wore
thin-soled brogues fit for the purpose, and moved with a peculiar
springing step; but Edward began to find the exercise, to which
he was unaccustomed, more fatiguing than he expected.  The
lingering twilight served to show them through this Serbonian
bog, but deserted them almost totally at the bottom of a steep
and very stony hill, which it was the travellers' next toilsome
task to ascend.  The night, however, was pleasant, and not dark;
and Waverley, calling up mental energy to support personal
fatigue, held on his march gallantly, though envying in his heart
his Highland attendants, who continued, without a symptom of
abated vigour, the rapid and swinging pace, or rather trot,
which, according to his computation, had already brought them
fifteen miles upon their journey.

After crossing this mountain, and descending on the other side
towards a thick wood, Evan Dhu held some conference with his
Highland attendants, in consequence of which Edward's baggage was
shifted from the shoulders of the gamekeeper to those of one of
the gillies, and the former was 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 Lowlander 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 such 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
traversing a thick, and, as it seemed, an endless wood of pines,
and consequently the path was altogether indiscernible in the
murky darkness which surrounded them.  The Highlander, however,
seemed to trace it by instinct, without the hesitation of a
moment, and Edward followed his footsteps as close as he could.

After journeying a considerable time in silence, he could not
help asking, 'Was it far to the end of their journey?'

'Ta cove was tree, four mile; but as Duinhe-wassel was a wee
taiglit, Donald could, tat is, might--would--should send ta
curragh.'

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
ay!  ta curragh.'

But in a short time Edward began to conceive his meaning, when,
issuing from the wood, he found himself on the banks of a large
river or lake, where his conductor gave him to understand they
must sit down for a little while.  The moon, which now began to
rise, showed obscurely the expanse of water which spread before
them, and the shapeless and indistinct forms of mountains with
which it seemed to be surrounded.  The cool and yet mild air of
the summer night refreshed Waverley after his rapid and toilsome
walk; and the perfume which it wafted from the birch-trees,
bathed in the evening dew, was exquisitely fragrant.  [It is not
the weeping birch, the most common species in the Highlands, but
the woolly-leaved Lowland birch, that is distinguished by this
fragrance.]

He had now time to give himself up to the full romance of his
situation.  Here he saw 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 outlaw, a second Robin
Hood, perhaps, or Adam o' Gordon, and that at deep midnight,
through scenes of difficulty and toil, separated from his
attendant, left by his guide.--What a variety of incidents for
the exercise of a romantic imagination, and all enhanced by the
solemn feeling of uncertainty, at least, if not of danger!  The
only circumstance which assorted ill with the rest, was the cause
of his journey--the Baron's milk-cows!  This degrading incident
he kept in the background.

While wrapped in these dreams of imagination, his companion
gently touched him, and pointing in a direction nearly straight
across the lake, said 'Yon's ta cove.'  A small point of light
was seen to twinkle in the direction in which he pointed, and
gradually increasing in size and lustre, seemed to flicker like a
meteor upon the verge of the horizon.  While Edward watched this
phenomenon, the distant dash of oars was heard.  The measured
sound approached near and more near, and presently a loud whistle
was heard in the same direction.  His friend with the battle-axe
immediately whistled clear and shrill, in reply to the signal,
and a boat, manned with four or five Highlanders, pushed for a
little inlet, near which Edward was sitting.  He advanced to meet
them with his attendant, was immediately assisted into the boat
by the officious attention of two stout mountaineers, and had no
sooner seated himself than they resumed their oars, and began to
row across the lake with great rapidity.



CHAPTER XVII

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 regulate, as they dipped to them in cadence.
The light, which they now approached more nearly, assumed a
broader, redder, and more irregular splendour.  It appeared
plainly to be a large fire, but whether kindled upon an island or
the main land, Edward could not determine.  As he saw it, the red
glaring orb seemed to rest on the very surface of the lake
itself, and 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 pallid moonlight.

The boat now neared the shore, and Edward could discover that
this large fire, amply supplied with branches of pine-wood by two
figures, who, in the red reflection of its 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 indeed true, that the fire had been lighted as a beacon to
the boatmen on their return.  They rowed right for the mouth of
the cave, and then, shipping their oars, permitted the boat to
enter in obedience to the impulse which it had received.

The skiff passed the little point or platform of rock on which
the fire was blazing, and running about two boats' length
farther, stopped where the cavern (for it was already arched
overhead) ascended from the water by five or six broad ledges of
rocks, so easy and regular that they might be termed natural
steps.  At this moment a quantity of water was suddenly flung
upon the fire, which sank 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 though not unpleasant
odour.  Their light was assisted by the red glare of a large
charcoal fire, round which were seated five or six armed
Highlanders, while others were indistinctly seen couched on their
plaids, in the more remote recesses of the cavern.  In one large
aperture, which the robber facetiously called his spence (or
pantry), 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 to meet his guest, totally different in
appearance and manner from what his imagination had anticipated.
The profession which he followed--the wilderness in which he
dwelt--the wild warrior-forms that surrounded him, were all
calculated to inspire terror.  From such accompaniments, Waverley
prepared himself to meet a stern, gigantic, ferocious figure,
such as Salvator would have chosen to be the central object of a
group of banditti.  [See Note 11.]

Donald Bean Lean was the very reverse of all these.  He was thin
in person and low in stature, with light sandy-coloured hair, and
small pale features, from which he derived his agnomen of BEAN,
or white; and although his form was light, well-proportioned, and
active, he appeared, on the whole, rather a diminutive and
insignificant figure.  He had served in some inferior capacity in
the French army, and in order to receive his English visitor 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.  The robber received Captain Waverley with a profusion of
French politeness and Scottish hospitality, seemed perfectly to
know his name and connexions, and to be particularly acquainted
with his uncle's political principles.  On these he bestowed
great applause, to which Waverley judged it prudent to make a
very general reply.

Being placed at a convenient distance from the charcoal fire, the
heat of which the season rendered oppressive, a strapping
Highland damsel placed before Waverley, Evan, and Donald Bean,
three cogues, or wooden vessels, composed of staves and hoops,
containing EANARUICH, [This was the regale presented by Rob Roy
to the Laird of Tullibody.] a sort of strong soup, made out of a
particular part of the inside of the beeves.  After this
refreshment, which, though coarse, fatigue and hunger rendered
palatable, steaks, roasted on the coals, were supplied in liberal
abundance, and disappeared before Even Dhu and their host with a
promptitude that seemed like magic, and astonished Waverley, who
was much puzzled to reconcile their voracity with what he had
heard of the abstemiousness of the Highlanders.  He was ignorant
that this abstinance was with the lower ranks wholly compulsory,
and that, like some animals of prey, those who practise it were
usually gifted with the power of indemnifying themselves to good
purpose, when chance threw plenty in their way.  The whisky came
forth in abundance to crown the cheer.  The Highlanders drank it
copiously and undiluted; but Edward, having mixed a little with
water, did not find it so palatable as to invite him to repeat
the draught.  Their host bewailed himself exceedingly that he
could offer him no wine:  'Had he but known four-and-twenty hours
before, he would have had some, had it been within the circle of
forty miles round him.  But no gentleman could do more to show
his sense of the honour of a visit from another, than to offer
him the best cheer his house afforded.  Where there are no bushes
there can be no nuts, and the way of those you live 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, visitors of every description
who haunted their dwelling, whether as friends or foes.

'Is not his son Malcolm TAISHATR?'  (a second-sighted person),
asked Evan.

'Nothing equal to his father,' replied Donald Bean.  He told us
the other day we were to see a great gentleman riding on a horse,
and there came nobody that whole day but Shemus Beg, the blind
harper, with his dog.  Another time he advertised us of a
wedding, and behold it proved a funeral; and on the creagh, when
he foretold to us we should bring home a hundred head of horned
cattle, we gripped nothing but a fat bailie of Perth.'

From this discourse he passed to the political and military state
of the country; and Waverley was astonished, and even alarmed, to
find a person of this description so accurately acquainted with
the strength of the various garrisons and 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 handsome, but stout
warlike fellows.  He put Waverley in mind of one or two minute
circumstances which had happened at a general review of the
regiment, which satisfied him that the robber had been an eye-
witness of it; and Evan Dhu having by this time retired from the
conversation, and wrapped himself up in his plaid to take some
repose, Donald asked Edward, in a very significant manner,
whether he had nothing particular to say to him.

Waverley, surprised and somewhat startled at this question from
such a character, answered he had no motive in visiting him but
curiosity to see his extraordinary place of residence.  Donald
Bean Lean looked him steadily in the face for an instant, and
then said, with a significant nod, 'You might as well have
confided in me; I am as much worthy of trust as either the Baron
of Bradwardine, or Vich Ian Vohr:--but you are equally welcome to
my house.'

Waverley felt an involuntary shudder creep over him at the
mysterious language held by this outlawed and lawless bandit,
which, in despite of his attempts to master it, deprived him of
the proper 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 matching 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 principal outlaw, and, when he
fell asleep, to a tall Highlander who acted as his lieutenant,
and seemed to keep watch during his repose.  Those who entered,
seemed to have returned from some excursion, of which they
reported the success, and went without further ceremony to the
larder, where, cutting with their dirks their rations from the
carcasses which were there suspended, they proceeded to broil and
eat them at their own pleasure and leisure.  The liquor was under
strict regulation, being served out either by Donald himself, his
lieutenant, or the strapping Highland girl aforesaid, who was the
only female that appeared.  The allowance of whisky, however,
would have appeared prodigal to any but Highlanders, who, living
entirely in the open air, and in a very moist climate, can
consume great quantities of ardent spirits without the usual
baneful effects either upon the brain or constitution.

At length the fluctuating groups began to swim before the eyes of
our hero as they gradually closed; nor did he re-open them till
the morning sun was high on the lake without, though there was
but a faint and glimmering twilight in the recesses of Uaimh an
Ri, or the King's Cavern, as the abode of Donald Bean Lean was
proudly denominated.



CHAPTER XVIII

WAVERLEY PROCEEDS ON HIS JOURNEY

Then Edward had collected his scattered recollection, he was
surprised to observe the cavern totally deserted.  Having arisen
and put his dress in some order, he looked more accurately round
him; but all was still solitary.  If it had not been for the
decayed brands of the fire, now sunk into grey ashes, and the
remnants of the festival, consisting of bones half burnt and half
gnawed, and an empty keg or two, there remained no traces of
Donald and his band.  When Waverley sallied forth to the entrance
of the cave, he perceived that the point of rock, on which
remained the marks of last night's beacon, was accessible by a
small path, either natural, or roughly hewn in the rock, along
the little inlet of water which ran a few yards up into the
cavern, where, as in a wet-dock, the skiff which brought him
there the night before was still lying moored.  When he reached
the small projecting platform on which the beacon had been
established, he would have believed his further progress by land
impossible, only that it was scarce probable but that the
inhabitants of the cavern had some mode of issuing from it
otherwise than by the lake.  Accordingly, he soon observed three
or four shelving steps, or ledges of rock, at the very extremity
of the little platform; and, making use of them as a staircase,
he clambered by their means around the projecting shoulder of the
crag on which the cavern opened, and, descending with some
difficulty on the other side, he gained the wild and precipitous
shores of a Highland loch, about four miles in length, and a
mile and a half across, surrounded by heathy and savage
mountains, on the crests of which the morning mist was still
sleeping.

Looking back to the place from which he came, he could not help
admiring the address which had adopted a retreat of such
seclusion and secrecy.  The rock, round the shoulder of which he
had turned by a few imperceptible notches, that barely afforded
place for the foot, seemed, in looking back upon it, a huge
precipice, which barred all further passage by the shores of the
lake in that direction.  There could be no possibility, the
breadth of the lake considered, of descrying the entrance of the
narrow and low-browed cave from the other side; so that, unless
the retreat had been sought for with boats, or disclosed by
treachery, it might be a safe and secret residence to its
garrison as long as they were supplied with provisions.  Having
satisfied his curiosity in these particulars, Waverley looked
around for Evan Dhu and his attendants, who, he rightly judged,
would be at no great distance, whatever might have become of
Donald Bean Lean and his party, whose mode of life was, of
course, liable to sudden migrations of abode.  Accordingly, at
the distance of about half a mile, he beheld a Highlander (Evan
apparently) angling in the lake, with 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 glittering birch-tree, and carpeted with a bank of firm white
sand, he found the damsel of the cavern, whose lay had already
reached him, busy, to the best of her power, in arranging to
advantage a morning repast of milk, eggs, barley-bread, fresh
butter, and honeycomb.  The poor girl had already made a circuit
of four miles that morning in search of the eggs, of the meal
which baked her cakes, and of the other materials of the
breakfast, being all delicacies which she had to beg or borrow
from distant cottagers.  The followers of Donald Bean Lean used
little food except the flesh of the animals which they drove away
from the Lowlands; bread itself was a delicacy seldom thought of,
because hard to be obtained, and all the domestic accommodations
of milk, poultry, butter, &c., 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 the cavern did not afford, she
had secured time also to arrange her own person in her best trim.
Her finery was very simple.  A short russet-coloured jacket, and
a petticoat, of scanty longitude, was her whole dress; but these
were clean, and neatly arranged.  A piece of scarlet embroidered
cloth, called the snood, confined her hair, which fell over it in
a profusion of rich dark curls.  The scarlet plaid, which formed
part of her dress, was laid aside, that it might not impede her
activity in attending the stranger.  I should forget Alice's
proudest ornament, were I to omit mentioning a pair of gold
ear-rings, and a golden rosary, which her father (for she was the
daughter of Donald Bean Lean) had brought from France, the
plunder, probably, of some battle or storm.

Her form, though rather large for her years, was very well
proportioned, and her demeanour had a natural and rustic grace,
with nothing of the sheepishness of an ordinary peasant.  The
smiles, displaying a row of teeth of exquisite whiteness, and the
laughing eyes, with which, in dumb show, she gave Waverley that
morning greeting which she wanted English words to express, might
have been interpreted by a coxcomb, or perhaps by a young
soldier, who, without being such, was conscious of a handsome
person, as meant to convey more than the courtesy of an hostess.
Nor do I take it upon me to say, that the little wild mountaineer
would have 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 produce of the morning's
sport, together with the angling-rod, while Evan strolled
forward, with an easy, self-satisfied, and important gait,
towards the spot where Waverley was so agreeably employed at the
breakfast-table.  After morning greetings had passed on both
sides, and Evan, looking at Waverley, had said something in
Gaelic to Alice, which made her laugh, yet colour up to her eyes,
through a complexion well embrowned by sun and wind, Evan
intimated his commands that the fish should be prepared for
breakfast.  A spark from the lock of his pistol produced a light,
and a few withered fir branches were quickly in flame, and as
speedily reduced to hot embers, on which the trout was broiled in
large slices.  To crown the repast, Evan produced from the pocket
of his short jerkin, a large scallop shell, and from under the
folds of his plaid, a ram's horn full of whisky.  Of this he took
a copious dram, observing he had already taken his MORNING with
Donald Bean Lean, before his departure; he offered the same
cordial to Alice and to Edward, which they both declined.  With
the bounteous air of a lord, Evan then proffered the scallop to
Dugald 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.
Meanwhile, Alice had made up in a small basket what she thought
worth removing, and hinging 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 curtsy.  Evan, who was esteemed a wag among the
mountain fair, advanced, as if to secure a similar favour; but
Alice, snatching up her basket, escaped up the rocky bank as
fleetly as a roe, and, turning round and laughing, called
something out to him in Gaelic, which he answered in the same
tone and language; then, waving her hand to Edward, she resumed
her road, and was soon lost among the thickets, though they
continued for some time to hear her lively carol, as she
proceeded gaily on her solitary journey.

They now again entered the gorge of the cavern, and stepping into
the boat, the Highlander pushed off, and, taking advantage of the
morning breeze, hoisted a clumsy sort of sail, while Evan assumed
the helm, directing their course, as it appeared to Waverley,
rather higher up the lake than towards the place of his
embarkation on the preceding night.  As they glided along the
silver mirror, Evan opened the conversation with a panegyric upon
Alice, who, he said, was both CANNY and FENDY; and was, to the
boot of all that, the best dancer of a strathspey in the whole
strath.  Edward assented to her praises so far as he understood
them, yet could not help regretting that she was condemned to
such a perilous and dismal life.

'Oich!  for that,' said Evan, 'there is nothing in Perthshire
that she need want, if she ask her father to fetch it, unless it
be too hot or too heavy.

'But to be the daughter of a cattle-stealer--a common thief!'

'Common thief!--no such thing:  Donald Bean Lean never LIFTED
less than a drove in his life.'

'Do you call him an uncommon thief, then?'

'No--he that steals a cow from a poor widow, or a stirk from a
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 cow
from a Lowland strath, is what no Highlander need ever think
shame upon.'

'But what can this end in, were he taken in such an
appropriation?'

'To be sure he would DIE FOR THE LAW, as many a pretty man has
done before him.'

'Die for the law!'

'Aye; that is, with the law, or by the law; be strapped up on the
KIND gallows of Crieff, [See Note 12.]  where his father died,
and his goodsire died, and where I hope he'll live to die
himself, if he's not shot, or slashed, in a creagh.'

'You HOPE such a death for your friend, Evan!'

'And that do I e'en; would you have me wish him to die on a
bundle of wet straw in yon den of his, like a mangy tyke?'

'But what becomes of Alice, then?'

'Troth, if such an accident were to happen, as her father would
not need her help ony langer, I ken naught to hinder me to marry
her mysell.'

'Gallantly resolved!'  said Edward;--'but, in the meanwhile,
Evan, what has your father-in-law (that shall be, if he have the
good fortune to be hanged) done with the Baron's cattle?'

'Oich,' answered Evan, 'they were all trudging before your lad
and Allan Kennedy before the sun blinked ower Ben-Lawers this
morning; and they'll be in the pass of Bally-Brough by this time,
in their way back to the parks of Tully-Veolan, all but two, that
were unhappily slaughtered before I got last night to Uaimh an
Ri.'

'And where are we going, Evan, if I may be so bold as to ask?'
said Waverley.

'Where would you be ganging, but to the laird's ain house of
Glennaquoich?  Ye would not think to be in his country, without
ganging to see him?  It would be as much as a man's life's
worth,'

'And are we far from Glennaquoich?'

But five bits of miles; and Vich Ian Vohr will meet us.'

In about half an hour they reached the upper end of the lake,
where, after landing Waverley, the two Highlanders drew the boat
into a little creek among thick flags and reeds, where it lay
perfectly concealed.  The oars they put in another place of
concealment, both for the use of Donald Bean Lean probably, when
his occasions should next bring him to that place.

The travellers followed for some time a delightful opening into
the hills, down which a little brook found its way to the lake.
When they had pursued their walk a short distance, Waverley
renewed his questions about their host of the cavern.

'Does he always reside in that cave?'

'Out, no!  it's past the skill of man to tell where he's to be
found at a' times; there's not a dern nook, or cove, or corri, in
the whole country, that he's not acquainted with.'

'And do others beside your master shelter him?'

'My master?--My master is in heaven,' answered Evan haughtily;
and then immediately assuming his usual civility of manner--'But
you mean my Chief;--no, he does not shelter Donald Bean Lean, nor
any that are like him; he only allows him (with a smile) wood and
water.'

'No great boon, I should think, Evan, when both seem to be very
plenty.'

'Ah!  but ye dinna see through it.  When I say wood and water, I
mean the loch and the land; and I fancy Donald would be put
till't if the laird were to look for him wi' threescore men in
the wood of Kailychat yonder; and if our boats, with a score or
twa mair, were to come down the loch to Uaimh an Ri, headed by
mysell, or ony other pretty man.'

'But suppose a strong party came against him from the Low
Country, would not your Chief defend him?'

'Na, he would not ware the spark of a flint for him--if they came
with the law.'

'And what must Donald do, then?'

'He behoved to rid this country of himsell, and fall back, it may
be, over the mount upon Letter Scriven.'

'And if he were pursued to that place?'

'I'se warrant he would go to his cousin's at Rannoch.'

'Well, but if they followed him to Rannoch?'

'That,' quoth Evan, 'is beyond all belief; and, indeed, to tell
you the truth, there durst not a Lowlander in all Scotland follow
the fray a gun-shot beyond Bally-Brough, unless he had the help
of the SIDIER DHU.'

'Whom do you call so?'

'The SIDIER DHU?  the black soldier; that is what they call the
independent companies that were raised to keep peace and law in
the Highlands.  Vich Ian Vohr commanded one of them for five
years, and I was sergeant myself, I shall warrant ye.  They call
them SIDIER DHU, because they wear the tartans,--as they call
your men, King George's men, SIDIER ROY, or red soldiers.'

'Well, but when you were in King George's pay, Evan, you were
surely King George's soldiers?'

'Troth, and you must ask Vich Ian Vohr about that; for we are for
his king, and care not much which o' them it is.  At any rate,
nobody can say we are King George's men now, when we have not
seen his pay this twelvemonth.'

This last argument admitted of no reply, nor did Edward attempt
any; he rather chose to bring back the discourse to Donald Bean
Lean.  'Does Donald confine himself to cattle, or does he LIFT,
as you call it, anything else that comes in his way?'

'Troth, he's nae nice body, and he'll just tak ony thing, but
most readily cattle, horse, or live Christians; for sheep are
slow of travel, and inside plenishing is cumbrous to carry, and
not easy to put away for siller in this country.'

'But does he carry off men and women?'

'Out, aye.  Did not ye hear him speak o' the Perth bailie?  It
cost that body five hundred merks ere he got to the south of
Bally-Brough.--And ance Donald played a pretty sport.  [See Note
13.]  There was to be a blythe bridal between the Lady
Cramfeezer, in the howe o' the Mearns (she was the auld laird's
widow, and no sae young as she had been hersell), and young
Gilliewhackit, who had spent his heirship and movables, like a
gentleman, at cock-matches, bull-baitings, horse-races, and the
like.  Now, Donald Bean Lean, being aware that the bridegroom was
in request, and wanting to cleik the cunzie (that is, to hook the
siller), he cannily carried off Gilliewhackit ae night when he
was riding DOVERING hame (wi' the malt rather abune the meal),
and with the help of his gillies he gat him into the hills with
the speed of light, and the first place he wakened in was the
cove of Uaimh an Ri.  So there was old to do about ransoming the
bridegroom; for Donald would not lower a farthing of a thousand
punds'--

The devil!'

'Punds Scottish, ya shall understand.  And the lady had not the
siller if she had pawned her gown; and they applied to the
governor o' Stirling castle, and to the major o' the Black Watch;
and the governor said, it was ower far to the northward, and out
of his district; and the major said, his men were gane hame to
the shearing, and he would not call them out before the victual
was got in for all the Cramfeezers in Christendom, let alane the
Mearns, for that it would prejudice the country.  And in the
meanwhile ye'll no hinder Gilliewhackit to take the small-pox.
There was not the doctor in Perth or Stirling would look near the
poor lad; and I cannot blame them, for Donald had been misguggled
by ane of these doctors about Paris, and he swore he would fling
the first into the loch that he catched beyond the Pass.
However, some cailliachs (that is, old women) that were about
Donald's hand, nursed Gilliewhackit sae weel, that between the
free open air in the cove and the fresh whey, deil an' he did not
recover maybe 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 home, and said he would be
pleased with onything they would like to gie him for the plague
and trouble which he had about Gilliewhackit to an unkenn'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 clinked in his purse either before or since.
And to the boot of all that, Gilliewhackit 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, illustrating 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 liberality in computing distance,
began to think that Evan's five miles were nearly doubled.  His
observation on the large measure which the Scottish allowed of
their land, in comparison to the computation of their money, was
readily answered by Evan, with the old jest, The deil take them
wha have the least pint stoup.'  ['The Scotch are liberal in
computing their land and liquor; the Scottish pint corresponds to
two English quarts.  As for their coin, every one knows the
couplet--

'How can the rogues pretend to sense?
 Their pound is only twenty pence.']

And now the report of a gun was heard, and a sportsman was seen,
with his dogs and attendant, at the upper end of the glen.
'Shough,' said Dugald Mahony, 'tat's ta Chief.'

'It is not,' said Evan imperiously.  'Do you think he would come
to meet a Sassenach Duinhe-wassel in such a way as that?'

But as they approached a little nearer, he said, with an
appearance of mortification, 'And it is even he, sure enough; and
he has not his tail on after all;--there is no living creature
with him but Callum 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 BIEN SES
GENS,' had no idea of raising himself in the eyes of an English
young man of fortune, by appearing with a retinue of idle
Highlanders disproportioned to the occasion.  He was well aware
that such an unnecessary attendance would seem to Edward rather
ludicrous than respectable; and while few men were more attached
to ideas of chieftainship and feudal power, he was, for that very
reason, cautious of exhibiting external marks of dignity, unless
at the time and in the manner when they were most likely to
produce an imposing effect.  Therefore, although, had he been to
receive a brother chieftain, he would probably have been attended
by all that retinue which Evan described with so much unction, he
judged it more respectable to advance to meet Waverley with a
single attendant, a very handsome Highland boy, who carried his
master's shooting-pouch and his broadsword, without which he
seldom went abroad.

When Fergus and Waverley met, the latter was struck with the
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 trousers, made of tartan,
chequed scarlet and white; in other particulars, his dress
strictly resembled Evan's, excepting that he had no weapon save a
dirk, very richly mounted with silver.  His page, as we have
said, carried his claymore and the fowling-piece, which he held
in his hand, seemed only designed for sport.  He had shot in the
course of his walk some young wild-ducks, as, though CLOSE TIME
was then unknown, the broods of grouse were yet too young for the
sportsman.  His countenance was decidedly Scottish, with all the
peculiarities of the northern physiognomy, but yet had so little
of ifs 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 favourable
impression derived from this handsome and dignified exterior.
Yet a skilful physiognomist would have been less satisfied with
the countenance on the second than on the first view.  The
eyebrow and upper lip bespoke something of the habit of
peremptory command and decisive superiority.  Even his courtesy,
though open, frank, and unconstrained, seemed to indicate a sense
of personal 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
slight signs, that it may thunder and lighten before the close of
evening.

It was not, however, upon their first meeting that Edward had an
opportunity of making these less favourable remarks.  The Chief
received him as a friend of the Baron of Bradwardine, with the
utmost expression of kindness and obligation for the visit;
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 without the least
hint as to his predatory habits, or the immediate occasion of
Waverley's visit, a topic which, as the Chief did not introduce
it, our hero also avoided.  While they walked merrily on towards
the house of Glennaquoich, Evan, who now fell respectfully into
the rear, followed with Callum Beg and Dugald Mahony.

We shall take the opportunity to introduce the reader to some
particulars of Fergus Mac-Ivor's character and history, which
were not completely known to Waverley till after a connexion,
which, though arising from a circumstance so casual, had for a
length of time the deepest influence upon his character, actions,
and prospects.  But this, being an important subject, must form
the commencement of a new chapter.



CHAPTER XIX

THE CHIEF AND HIS MANSION

The ingenious licentiate, Francisco de Ubeda, when he commenced
his history of La Picara Justina Diez,--which, by the way, is one
of the most rare books of Spanish literature,--complained of his
pen having caught up a hair, and forthwith begins, with more
eloquence than common sense, an affectionate expostulation with
that useful implement, upbraiding it with being the quill of a
goose,--a bird inconstant by nature, as frequenting the three
elements of water, earth, and air, indifferently, and being, of
course, 'to one thing constant never.'  Now I protest to thee,
gentle reader, that I entirely dissent from Francisco de Ubeda in
this matter, and hold it the most useful quality of my pen, that
it can speedily change from grave to gay, and from description
and dialogue to narrative and character.  So that, if my quill
display no other properties of its mother-goose than her
mutability, truly I shall be well pleased; and I conceive that
you, my worthy friend, will have no occasion for discontent.
From the jargon, therefore, of the Highland gillies, 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 centuries before,
had set up a claim to be recognized as chief of the numerous and
powerful clan to which he belonged, the name of which 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 Aeneas.  The state of the Perthshire
Highlands favoured his purpose.  A great baron in that country
had lately become traitor to the crown; Ian, which was the name
of our 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 he
and his posterity afterwards resided.  He followed the king also
in war to the fertile regions of England, where he employed his
leisure hours so actively in raising subsidies among the boors of
Northumberland and Durham, that upon his return he was enabled to
erect a stone tower, or fortalice, so much admired by his
dependants and neighbours, that he, who had hitherto been called
Ian Mac-Ivor, or John the son of Ivor, was thereafter
distinguished, both in song and genealogy, by the high title of
IAN NAN CHAISTEL, or John of the Tower.  The descendants of this
worthy were so proud of him, that the reigning chief always bore
the patronymic title of Vich Ian Vohr, i.e. the son of John the
Great; while the clan at large, to distinguish them from that
from which they had seceded, were denominated SLIOCHD NAN IVOR,
the race of Ivor.

The father of Fergus, the tenth in direct descent from John of
the Tower, engaged heart and hand in the insurrection of 1715,
and was forced to fly to France, after the attempt of that year
in favour of the Stuarts had proved unsuccessful.  More fortunate
than other fugitives, he obtained employment in the French
service, and married a lady of rank in that kingdom, by whom he
had two children, Fergus and his sister Flora.  The Scottish
estate had been forfeited and exposed to sale, but was re-
purchased for a small price in the name of the young proprietor,
who in consequence came to reside upon his native domains.  [See
Note 14.]  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,
within his little circle, as perfect a politician as Castruccio
Castracani himself.  He applied himself with great earnestness to
appease all the feuds and dissensions which often arose among
other clans in his neighbourhood, so that he became a frequent
umpire in their quarrels.  His own patriarchal power he
strengthened at every expense which his fortune would permit, and
indeed stretched his 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 was calculated to maintain.
These consisted chiefly of his own clan, not one of whom he
suffered to quit his lands if he could possibly prevent it.  But
he maintained, besides, many adventurers from the mother sept,
who deserted a less warlike, though more wealthy chief, to do
homage to Fergus Mac-Ivor.  Other individuals, too, who had not
even that apology, were 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 under his charge.  He caused his vassals to enter by
rotation into his company, and serve for a certain space of time,
which gave them all in turn a general notion of military
discipline.  In his campaigns against the banditti, it was
observed that he 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 suspicious lenity to those freebooters who made
restitution on his summons, and offered personal submission to
himself, while he rigorously pursued, apprehended, and sacrificed
to justice, all such interlopers as dared to despise his
admonitions or commands.  On the other hand, if any officers of
justice, military parties, or others, presumed to pursue thieves
or marauders through his territories, and without applying for
his consent and concurrence, nothing was more certain than that
they would meet with some notable foil or defeat; upon which
occasions Fergus Mac-Ivor was the first to condole with them,
and, after gently blaming their rashness, never failed deeply to
lament the lawless state of the country.  These lamentations did
not exclude suspicion, and matters were so represented to
Government, that our Chieftain was deprived of his military
command.  [See Note 15.]

Whatever Fergus Mac-Ivor felt on this occasion, he had the art of
entirely suppressing every appearance of discontent; but in a
short time the neighbouring country began to feel bad effects
from his disgrace.  Donald Bean Lean, and others of his class,
whose depredations had hitherto been confined to other districts,
appeared from thenceforward to have made a settlement on this
devoted border; and their ravages were carried on with little
opposition, as the Lowland gentry were chiefly Jacobites, and
disarmed.  This forced many of the inhabitants into contracts of
blackmail with Fergus Mac-Ivor, which not only established him
their protector, and gave him great weight in all their
consultations, but, moreover, supplied funds for the waste of his
feudal hospitality, which the discontinuance of his pay might
have otherwise essentially diminished.

In following this course of conduct, Fergus had a further object
than merely being the great man of his neighbourhood, and ruling
despotically over a small clan.  From his infancy upward, he had
devoted himself to the cause of the exiled family, and had
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 favour of such Lowland gentlemen in the
vicinity as were friends to the good cause; and for the same
reason, having incautiously quarrelled with Mr. Bradwardine, who,
notwithstanding his peculiarities, was much respected in the
country, he took advantage of the foray of Donald Bean Lean to
solder up the dispute in the manner we have mentioned.  Some,
indeed, surmised that he caused the enterprise to be suggested to
Donald, on purpose to pave the way to a reconciliation, which,
supposing that to be the case, cost the Laird of Bradwardine two
good milch-cows.  This zeal in their behalf the House of Stuart
repaid with a considerable share of their confidence, an
occasional supply of louis d'or, abundance of fair words, and a
parchment, with a huge waxen seal appended, purporting to be an
Earl's patent, granted by no less a person than James the Third
King of England, and Eighth King of Scotland, to his right leal,
trusty, and well-beloved Fergus Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich, in the
county of Perth, and kingdom of Scotland.

With this future coronet glittering before his eyes, Fergus
plunged deeply into the correspondence and plots of that unhappy
period; and, like all such active agents, easily reconciled his
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 remembered by the western shires under the name
of the Highland Host.  Upon occasion of this crusade against the
Ayrshire Whigs and Covenanters, the Vich Ian Vohr of the time had
probably been as successful as his predecessor was in harrying
Northumberland, and therefore left to his posterity a rival
edifice, as a monument of his magnificence.

Around the house, which stood on an eminence in the midst of a
narrow Highland valley, there appeared none of that attention to
convenience, far less to ornament and decoration, which usually
surrounds a gentleman's habitation.  An enclosure or two, divided
by dry-stone walls, were the only part of the domain that was
fenced; as to the rest, the narrow slips of level ground which
lay by the side of the brook exhibited a scanty crop of barley,
liable to constant depredations from the herds of wild ponies and
black cattle that grazed upon the adjacent hills.  These ever and
anon made an incursion upon the arable ground, which was repelled
by the loud, uncouth, and dissonant shouts of half a dozen
Highland swains, all running as if they had been mad, and every
one 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
Stowe or Blenheim.

There was a sight, however, before the gate, which perhaps would
have afforded the first owner of Blenheim more pleasure than the
finest view in the domain assigned to him by the gratitude of his
country.  This consisted of about a hundred Highlanders in
complete dress and arms; at sight of whom the Chieftain
apologized to Waverley in a sort of negligent manner.  'He had
forgot,' he said, 'that he had ordered a few of his clan out, for
the purpose of seeing that they were in a fit condition to
protect the country, and prevent such accidents as, he was sorry
to learn, had befallen the Baron of Bradwardine.  Before they
were dismissed, perhaps Captain Waverley might choose to see them
go through a part of their exercise.'

Edward assented, and the men executed with agility and precision
some of the ordinary military 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
always with effect upon the target.  Next, they paired off for
the broadsword exercise; and, having manifested their individual
skill and dexterity, united in two bodies, and exhibited a sort
of mock encounter, in which the charge, the rally, the flight,
the pursuit, and all the current of a heady fight, were exhibited
to the sound of the great war-bagpipe.

On a signal made by the Chief, the skirmish was ended.  Marches
were then made for running, wrestling, leaping, pitching the bar,
and other sports, in which this feudal militia displayed
incredible swiftness, strength, and agility; and accomplished the
purpose which their Chieftain had at heart, by impressing on
Waverley no light sense of their merit as soldiers, and of the
power of him who commanded them by his nod.  [See Note 16.]

'And what number of such gallant fellows have the happiness to
call you leader?'  asked Waverley.

'In a good cause, and under a chieftain whom they loved, the race
of Ivor have seldom taken the field under five hundred claymores.
But you are aware, Captain 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 Government, which has removed other means
of defence, must connive at our protecting ourselves.'

'But, with your force, you might soon destroy, or put down, such
gangs as that of Donald Bean Lean.'

'Yes, doubtless; and my reward would be a summons to deliver up
to General Blakeney, at Stirling, the few broadswords they have
left us:  there were little policy in that, 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
mansion.'



CHAPTER XX

A HIGHLAND FEAST

Ere Waverley entered the banqueting 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, indeed, 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
damsel, trained

  To chafe the limb, 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 father's herds did not feed so
near together, that I should do you this service.'  A small
donation, however, amply reconciled this ancient handmaiden to
the supposed degradation; and, as Edward proceeded to the hall,
she gave him her blessing, in the Gaelic proverb, 'May the open
hand be filled the fullest.'

The hall, in which the feast was prepared, occupied all the first
storey of Ian nan Chaistel's original erection, and a huge oaken
table extended through its whole length.  The apparatus for
dinner was simple, even to rudeness, and the company numerous,
even to crowding.  At the head of the table was the Chief
himself, with Edward, and two or three Highland visitors of
neighbouring clans; the elders of his own tribe, wadsetters, and
tacksmen, as they were called, who occupied portions of his
estate as mortgagers or lessees, sat next in rank beneath them,
their sons, and nephews, and foster-brethren; then the officers
of the Chief's household, according to their order; and, lowest
of all, the tenants who actually cultivated the ground.  Even
beyond this long perspective, Edward might see upon the green, to
which a huge pair of folding doors opened, a multitude of
Highlanders of a yet inferior description, who, nevertheless,
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 changeful 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 hospitality, apparently unbounded, had yet its line of
economy.  Some pains had been bestowed in dressing the dishes of
fish, game, &c., which were at the upper end of the table, and
immediately under the eye of the English stranger.  Lower down
stood immense clumsy joints of mutton and beef, which, but for
the absence of pork, [See Note 17.]  abhorred in the Highlands,
resembled the rude festivity of the banquet of Penelope's
suitors.  But the central dish was a yearling lamb, called 'a hog
in har'st,' roasted whole.  It was set upon its legs, with a
bunch of parsley in its mouth, and was probably exhibited in that
form to gratify the pride of the cook, who piqued himself more on
the plenty than the elegance of his master's table.  The sides of
this poor animal were fiercely attacked by the clansmen, some
with dirks, others with the 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 who feasted in the open air.

The liquor was supplied in the same proportion, and under similar
regulations.  Excellent claret and champagne were liberally
distributed among the Chief's immediate neighbours; whisky, plain
or diluted, and strong beer, refreshed those who sat near the
lower end.  Nor did this inequality of distribution appear to
give the least offence.  Every one present understood that his
taste was to be formed according to the rank which he held at
table; and, consequently, the tacksmen and their 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.  [See Note 18.]  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, that
Waverley dreaded his ears would never recover it.  Mac-Ivor,
indeed, apologized for the confusion occasioned by so large a
party, and pleaded the necessity of his situation, on which
unlimited hospitality was imposed as a paramount duty.  'These
stout idle kinsmen of mine,' he said, 'account my estate as held
in trust for their support; and I must find them beef and ale,
while the rogues will do nothing for themselves but practise the
broadsword, or wander about the hills, shooting, fishing,
hunting, drinking, and making love to the lasses of the strath.
But what can I do, Captain Waverley?  everything will keep after
its kind, whether it be a hawk or a Highlander.'  Edward made the
expected answer, in a compliment upon his possessing so many bold
and attached followers.

'Why, yes,' replied the Chief,' were I disposed, like my father,
to put myself in the way of getting one blow on the head, or two
on the neck, I believe the loons would stand by me.  But who
thinks of that in the present day, when the maxim is,--"Better an
old woman with a purse in her hand, than three men with belted
brands?"' Then, turning to the company, he proposed the 'Health
of Captain Waverley, a worthy friend of his kind neighbour and
ally, the Baron of Bradwardine.'

'He is welcome hither,' said one of the elders, 'if he come from
Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine.'

'I say nay to that,' said an old man, who apparently did not mean
to pledge the toast:  'I say nay to that;--while there is a green
leaf in the forest, there will be fraud in a Comyne.'

'There is nothing but honour in the Baron of Bradwardine,'
answered another ancient; 'and the guest that comes hither from
him should be welcome, though he came with blood on his hand,
unless it were blood of the race of Ivor.'

The old man, whose cup remained full, replied, 'There has been
blood enough of the race of Ivor on the hand of Bradwardine.'

'Ah!  Ballenkeiroch,' replied the first, 'you think rather of the
flash of the carbine at the Mains of Tully-Veolan, than the
glance of the sword that fought for the cause at Preston.'

'And well I may,' answered Ballenkeiroch; 'the flash of the gun
cost me a fair-haired son, and the glance of the sword has done
but little for King James.'

The Chieftain, in two words of French, explained to Waverley,
that the Baron had shot this old man's son in a fray near Tully-
Veolan about seven years before; and then hastened to remove
Ballenkeiroch's prejudice, by informing him that Waverley was an
Englishman, unconnected by birth or alliance with the family of
Bradwardine; upon which the old gentleman raised the hitherto-
untasted cup, and courteously drank to his health.  This ceremony
being requited in kind, the Chieftain made a signal for the pipes
to cease, and said aloud, 'Where is the song hidden, my friends,
that Mac-Murrough cannot find it?'

Mac-Murrough, the family BHAIRDH, an aged man, immediately took
the hint, and began to chant, with low and rapid utterance, a
profusion of Celtic verses, which were received by the audience
with all the applause of enthusiasm.  As he advanced in his
declamation, his ardour seemed to increase.  He had at first
spoken with his eyes fixed on the ground; he now cast them around
as if beseeching, and anon as if commanding, attention, and his
tones rose into wild and impassioned notes, accompanied with
appropriate gestures.  He seemed to Edward, who attended to him
with much interest, to recite many proper names, to lament the
dead, to apostrophize the absent, to exhort, and entreat, and
animate those who were present.  Waverley thought he even
discerned his own name, and was convinced his conjecture was
right, from the eyes of the company being at that moment turned
towards him simultaneously.  The ardour of the poet appeared to
communicate itself to the audience.  Their wild and sunburnt
countenances assumed a fiercer and more animated expression; all
bent forward towards the reciter, many sprang up and waved their
arms in ecstasy, and some laid their hands on their swords.  When
the song ceased, there was a deep pause, while the aroused
feelings of the poet and of the hearers gradually subsided into
their usual channel.

The Chieftain, who during this scene had appeared rather to watch
the emotions which were excited, than to partake their high tone
of enthusiasm, filled with claret a small silver cup which stood
by him.  'Give this,' he said to an attendant, 'to Mac-Murrough
nan Fonn (i.e. of the songs), and when he has drunk the juice,
bid him keep, for the sake of Vich Ian Vohr, the shell of the
gourd which contained it.'  The gift was received by Mac-Murrough
with profound gratitude; he drank the wine, and, kissing the cup,
shrouded it with reverence in the plaid which was folded on his
bosom.  He then burst forth into what Edward justly supposed to
be an extemporaneous effusion of thanks, and praises of his
Chief.  It was received with applause, but did not produce the
effect of his first poem.  It was obvious, however, that the clan
regarded the generosity of their Chieftain with high approbation.
Many approved Gaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of which
the Chieftain gave his guest the following versions:--'To him
that will not turn his back on friend or foe.'  'To him that
never forsook a comrade.'  'To him that never bought or sold
justice.'  'Hospitality to the exile, and broken bones to the
tyrant.'  'The lads with the kilts.'  'Highlanders, shoulder to
shoulder,'--with many other pithy sentiments of the like nature.

Edward was particularly solicitous to know the meaning of that
song which appeared to produce such effect upon the passions of
the company, and hinted his curiosity to his host.  'As I
observe,' said the Chieftain, 'that you have passed the bottle
during the last three rounds, I was about to propose to you to
retire to my sister's tea-table, who can explain these things to
you better than I can.  Although I cannot stint my clan in the
usual current of their festivity, yet I neither am addicted
myself to exceed in its amount, nor do I,' added he, smiling,
'keep a Bear to devour the intellects of such as can make good
use of them.'

Edward readily assented to this proposal, and the Chieftain,
saying a few words to those around him, left the table, followed
by Waverley.  As the door closed behind them, Edward heard Vich
Ian Vohr's health invoked with a wild and animated cheer, that
expressed the satisfaction of the guests, and the depth of their
devotion to his service.



CHAPTER XXI

THE CHIEFTAIN'S SISTER

The drawing-room of Flora Mac-Ivor was furnished in the plainest
and most simple manner; for at Glennaquoich every other sort of
expenditure was retrenched as much as possible, for the purpose
of maintaining, in its full dignity, the hospitality of the
Chieftain, and retaining and multiplying the number of his
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 together with great taste.  Her
hair was not disfigured by the art of the friseur, but fell in
jetty ringlets on her neck, confined only by a circlet, richly
set with diamonds.  This peculiarity she adopted in compliance
with the Highland prejudices, which could not endure that a
woman's head should be covered before wedlock.

Flora Mac-Ivor bore a most striking resemblance to her brother
Fergus; so much so, that they might have played Viola and
Sebastian with the same exquisite effect produced by the
appearance of Mrs. Henry Siddons and her brother, Mr. William
Murray, in these characters.  They had, the same antique and
regular correctness of profile; the same dark eyes, eyelashes,
and eyebrows; the same clearness of complexion, excepting that
Fergus's was embrowned by exercise, and Flora's possessed the
utmost feminine delicacy.  But the haughty, and somewhat stern
regularity of Fergus's features was beautifully softened in those
of Flora.  Their voices were also similar in tone, though
differing in the key.  That of Fergus, especially while issuing
orders to his followers during their military exercise, reminded
Edward of a favourite passage in the description of Emetrius:

  --whose voice was heard around,
  Loud as a trumpet with a silver sound.

That of Flora, on the contrary, was soft and sweet,--'an
excellent thing in woman;' yet, in urging any favourite topic,
which she often pursued with natural eloquence, it possessed as
well the tones which impress awe and conviction, as those of
persuasive insinuation.  The eager glance of the keen black eye,
which in the Chieftain seemed impatient even of the material
obstacles it encountered, had, in his sister, acquired a gentle
pensiveness.  His looks seemed to seek glory, power, all that
could exalt him above others in the race of humanity; while those
of his sister, as if she were already conscious of mental
superiority, seemed to pity, rather than envy, those who were
struggling for any further distinction.  Her sentiments
corresponded with the expression of her countenance.  Early
education had impressed upon her mind, as well as on that of the
Chieftain, the most devoted attachment to the exiled family of
Stuart.  She believed if the duty of her brother, of his clan, of
every man in Britain, at whatever personal hazard, to contribute
to that restoration which the partisans of the Chevalier de St.
George had not ceased to hope for.  For this she was prepared to
do all, to suffer all, to sacrifice all.  But her loyalty, as it
exceeded her brother's in fanaticism, excelled it also in purity.
Accustomed to petty intrigue, and necessarily involved in a
thousand paltry and selfish discussions, ambitious also by
nature, his political faith was tinctured, at least, if not
tainted, by the views of interest and advancement so easily
combined with it; and at the moment he should unsheathe his
claymore, it might be difficult to say whether it would be most
with the view of making James Stuart a king, or Fergus Mac-Ivor
an earl.  This, indeed, was a mixture of feeling which he did not
avow even to himself, but it existed, nevertheless, in a powerful
degree.

In Flora's bosom, on the contrary, the zeal of loyalty burnt pure
and unmixed with any selfish feeling; she would have as soon made
religion the mask of ambitious and interested views, as have
shrouded them under the opinions which she had been taught to
think patriotism.  Such instances of devotion were not uncommon
among the followers of the unhappy race of Stuart, of which many
memorable proofs will recur to the mind of most of my readers.
But peculiar attention on the part of the Chevalier de St. George
and his princess to the parents of Fergus and his sister, and to
themselves when orphans, had riveted their faith.  Fergus, upon
the death of his parents, had been for some time a page of honour
in the train of the Chevalier's lady, and, from his beauty and
sprightly temper, was uniformly treated by her with the utmost
distinction.  This was also extended to Flora, who was maintained
for some time at a convent of the first order, at the princess's
expense, and removed from thence into her own family, where she
spent nearly two years.  Both brother and sister retained the
deepest and most grateful sense of her kindness.

Having thus touched upon the leading principle of Flora's
character, I may dismiss the rest more slightly.  She was highly
accomplished, and had acquired those elegant manners to be
expected from one who, in early youth, had been the companion of
a princess; yet she had not learned to substitute the gloss of
politeness for the reality of feeling.  When settled in the
lonely regions of Glennaquoich, she found that her resources in
French, English, and Italian literature, were likely to be few
and interrupted; and, in order to fill up the vacant time, she
bestowed a part of it upon the music and poetical traditions of
the Highlanders, and began really to feel the pleasure in the
pursuit, which her brother, whose perceptions of literary merit
were more blunt, rather affected for the sake of popularity than
actually experienced.  Her resolution was strengthened in these
researches by the extreme delight which her inquiries seemed to
afford 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 accomplishing
his own aggrandizement, that we should term him the model of a
Highland Chieftain.  Flora felt the same anxiety for cherishing
and extending their patriarchal sway, but it was with the
generous desire of vindicating from poverty, or at least from
want and foreign oppression, those whom her brother was by birth,
according to the notions of the time and country, entitled to
govern.  The savings of her income, for she had a 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 from him save what was afforded by the
rude hospitality of his castle, and the general division and
subdivision of his estate among them.  Flora was so much beloved
by them, that when Mac-Murrough composed a song in which he
enumerated all the principal beauties of the district, and
intimated her superiority by concluding; that 'the fairest apple
hung on the highest bough,' he received, in donatives from the
individuals of the clan, more seed-barley than would have sowed
his Highland Parnassus, the Bard's croft as it was called, ten
times over.

From situation, as well as choice, Miss Mac-Ivor's society was
extremely limited.  Her most intimate friend had been Rose
Bradwardine, to whom she was much attached; and when seen
together, they would have afforded an artist two admirable
subjects for the gay and the melancholy muse.  Indeed Rose was so
tenderly watched by her father, and her circle of wishes was so
limited, that none arose but what he was willing to gratify, and
scarce any which did not come within 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
national events, and changes not to be brought round without both
hazard and bloodshed, and therefore not to be thought of with
levity.  Her manner, consequently, was grave, though she readily
contributed her talents to the amusement of society, and stood
very high in the opinion of the old Baron, who used to sing along
with her such French duets of Lindor and Cloris, &c., as were in
fashion about the end of the reign of old Louis le Grand.

It was generally believed, though no one durst have hinted it to
the Baron of Bradwardine, that Flora's entreaties had no small
share in allaying the wrath of Fergus upon occasion of their
quarrel.  She took her brother on the assailable side, by
dwelling first upon the Baron's age, and then representing the
injury which the cause might sustain, and the damage which must
arise to his own character in point of prudence, so necessary to
a political agent, if he persisted in 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 condescended to envy.  For the same reason she had
urged their reconciliation, which the Chieftain the more readily
agreed to, as it favoured some ulterior projects of his own.

To this young lady, now presiding at the female empire of the
tea-table, Fergus introduced Captain Waverley, whom she received
with the usual forms of politeness.



CHAPTER XXII

HIGHLAND MINSTRELSY

When the first salutations had passed, Fergus said to his sister,
'My dear Flora, before I return to the barbarous ritual of our
forefathers, I must tell you that Captain Waverley is a
worshipper of the Celtic muse, not the less so perhaps that he
does not understand a word of her language.  I have told him you
are eminent as a translator of Highland poetry, and that Mac-
Murrough admires your version of his songs upon the same
principle that Captain Waverley admires the original,--because he
does not comprehend them.  Will you have the goodness to read or
recite to our guest in English, the extraordinary string of names
which Mac-Murrough has tacked together in Gaelic?--My life to a
moorfowl's feather, you are provided with a version; for I know
you are in all the bard's councils, and acquainted with his songs
long before he rehearses them in the hall.'

'How can you say so, Fergus?  You 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 cup in the castle, and I suppose will cost me
something else next time I hold COUR PLENIERE, 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
which he must not draw,--a bard to sing of deeds which he dare
not imitate,--and a large goatskin purse without a louis d'or to
put into it.'

'Well, brother, since you betray my secrets, you cannot expect me
to keep yours.--I assure you, Captain Waverley, that Fergus is
too proud to exchange his broadsword for a marechal's baton; that
he esteems Mac-Murrough a far greater poet than Homer, and would
not give up his goat skin purse for all the louis d'or which it
could contain.'

'Well pronounced, Flora; blow for blow, as Conan [See Note 19.]
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 Waverley; for two
well-dressed young women, whose character 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 account 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 fireside in the
Highlands.  Some of these are said to be very ancient, and if
they are ever translated into any of the languages of civilized
Europe, cannot fail to produce a deep and general sensation.
Others are more modern, the composition of those family bards
whom the chieftains of more distinguished name and power retain
as the poets and historians of their tribes.  These, of course,
possess various degrees of merit; but much of it must evaporate
in translation, or be lost on those who do not sympathize with
the feelings of the poet.

'And your bard, whose effusions seemed to produce such effect
upon the company to-day,--is he reckoned among the favourite
poets of the mountain?'

'That is a trying question.  His reputation is high among his
countrymen, and you must not expect me to depreciate it.'   [The
Highland poet almost always was an improvisatore.  Captain Burt
met one of them at Lovat's table.]

'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 extraordinary the guess
appears, that there was some allusion to me in the verses which
he recited?'

'You have a quick observation, Captain Waverley, which in this
instance has not deceived you.  The Gaelic language, being
uncommonly vocalic, is well adapted for 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.'

'I would give my best horse to know what the Highland bard could
find to say of such an unworthy Southron as myself.'

'It shall not even cost you a lock of his mane.--Una, MAVOURNEEN!
(She spoke a few words to one of the young girls in attendance,
who instantly curtsied, and tripped out of the room.)--I have
sent Una to learn from the bard the expressions he used, and you
shall command my skill as dragoman.'

Una returned in a few minutes, and repeated to her mistress a few
lines in Gaelic.  Flora seemed to think for a moment, and then,
slightly colouring, she turned to Waverley--'It is impossible to
gratify your curiosity, Captain Waverley, without exposing my own
presumption.  If you will give me a few moments for
consideration, I will endeavour to engraft the meaning of these
lines upon a rude English translation, which I have attempted, of
a part of the original.  The duties of the tea-table seem to be
concluded, and, as the evening is delightful, Una will show you
the way to one of my favourite haunts, and Cathleen and I will
join you there.'

Una, having received instructions in her native language,
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 resounding with the clang of bagpipes and
the high applause of his guests.  Having gained the open air by a
postern door, they walked a little way up the wild, bleak, and
narrow valley in which the house was situated, following the
course of the stream that winded through it.  In a spot, about a
quarter of a mile from the castle, two brooks, which formed the
little river, had their junction.  The larger of the two came
down the long bare valley, which extended, apparently without any
change or elevation of character, as far as the hills which
formed its boundary 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 motions of the lesser brook were rapid and furious,
issuing from between precipices, like a maniac from his
confinement, all foam and uproar.

It was up the course of this last stream that Waverley, like a
knight of romance, was conducted by the fair Highland damsel, his
silent guide.  A small path, which had been rendered easy in many
places for Flora's accommodation, led him through scenery of a
very different description from that which he had just quitted.
Around the castle, all was cold, bare, and desolate, yet tame
even in desolation; but this narrow glen, at so short a distance,
seemed to open into the land of romance.  The rocks assumed a
thousand peculiar and varied forms.  In one place, a crag of huge
size presented its gigantic bulk, as if to forbid the passenger's
farther progress; and it was not until he approached its very
base, that Waverley discerned the sudden and acute turn by which
the pathway wheeled its course around this formidable obstacle.
In another spot, the projecting rocks from the opposite sides of
the chasm had approached so near to each other, that two pine-
trees laid across, and covered with turf, formed a rustic bridge
at the height of at least one 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 small portion of blue sky not intercepted by the
projecting rocks on either side, it was with a sensation of
horror that Waverley beheld Flora and her attendant appear, like
inhabitants of another region, propped, as it were, in mid air,
upon this trembling structure.  She stopped upon observing him
below, and, with an air of graceful ease, which made him shudder,
waved her handkerchief to him by way of signal.  He was unable,
from the sense of dizziness which her situation conveyed, to
return the salute; and was never more relieved than when the fair
apparition passed on from the precarious eminence which she
seemed to occupy with so much indifference, and disappeared on
the other side.

Advancing a few yards, and passing under the bridge which he had
viewed with so much terror, the path ascended rapidly from the
edge of the brook, and the glen widened into a 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 furlongs lost sight of the brook, suddenly
placed Waverley in front of a romantic waterfall.  It was not so
remarkable either for great height or quantity of water, as for
the beautiful accompaniments which made the spot interesting.
After a broken cataract of about twenty feet, the stream was
received in a large natural basin filled to the brim with water,
which, where the bubbles of the fall subsided, was so exquisitely
clear, that, although it was of great depth, the eye could
discern each pebble at the bottom.  Eddying round this reservoir,
the brook found its way over a broken part of the ledge, and
formed a second fall, which seemed to seek the very abyss; then,
wheeling out beneath from among the smooth dark rocks, which it
had polished for ages, it wandered murmuring down the glen,
forming the stream up which Waverley had just ascended.  [See
Note 20.]  The borders of this romantic 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 were
broken and interrupted by huge fragments of rock, and decorated
with trees and shrubs, some of which had been planted under the
direction of Flora, but so cautiously, that they added to the
grace, without diminishing the romantic wildness of the scene.

Here, like one of those lovely forms which decorate the
landscapes of Poussin, Waverley found Flora, gazing on the
waterfall.  Two paces further back stood Cathleen, holding a
small Scottish harp, the use of which had been taught to Flora by
Rory Dall, one of the last harpers of the Western Highlands.  The
sun, now stooping in the west, gave a rich and varied tinge to
all the objects which surrounded Waverley, and seemed to add more
than human brilliancy to the full expressive darkness of Flora's
eye, exalted the richness and purity of her complexion, and
enhanced the dignity and grace of her beautiful form.  Edward
thought he had never, even in his wildest dreams, imagined a
figure of such exquisite and interesting loveliness.  The wild
beauty of the retreat, bursting upon him as if by magic,
augmented the mingled feeling of delight and awe with which he
approached her, like a fair enchantress of Boiardo or Ariosto, by
whose nod the scenery around seemed to have been created, an Eden
in the wilderness.

Flora, like every beautiful woman, was conscious of her own
power, and pleased with its effects, which she could easily
discern from the respectful, yet confused address of the young
soldier.  But, as she possessed excellent sense, she gave the
romance of the scene, and other accidental circumstances, full
weight in appreciating the feelings with which Waverley seemed
obviously to be impressed; and, unacquainted with the fanciful
and susceptible peculiarities of his character, considered his
homage as the passing tribute which a woman of even inferior
charms might have expected in such a situation.  She therefore
quietly led the way to a spot at such a distance from the
cascade, that its sound should rather accompany than interrupt
that of her voice and instrument, and, sitting down upon a mossy
fragment of rock, she took the harp from Cathleen.

'I have given you the trouble of walking to this spot, Captain
Waverley, both because I thought the scenery would interest you,
and because a Highland song would suffer still more from my
imperfect translation, were I to introduce it without its own
wild and appropriate accompaniments.  To speak in the poetical
language of my country, the seat of the Celtic muse is in the
mist of the secret and solitary hill, and her voice in the murmur
of the mountain stream.  He who wooes her must love the barren
rock more than the fertile valley, and the solitude of the desert
better than the festivity of the hall.'

Few could have heard this lovely woman make this declaration,
with a voice where harmony was exalted by pathos, without
exclaiming that the muse whom she invoked could never find a more
appropriate representative.  But Waverley, though the thought
rushed on his mind, found no courage to utter it.  Indeed, the
wild feeling of romantic delight with which he heard the first
few notes she drew from her instrument, amounted almost to a
sense of pain.  He would not for worlds have quitted his place by
her side; yet he almost longed for solitude, that he might
decipher and examine at leisure the complication of emotions
which now agitated his bosom.

Flora had exchanged the measured and monotonous recitative of the
bard for a lofty and uncommon Highland air, which had been a
battle-song in former ages.  A few irregular strains introduced a
prelude of a wild and peculiar tone, which harmonized well with
the distant waterfall, and the soft sigh of the evening breeze in
the rustling leaves of an aspen which overhung the seat of the
fair harpress.  The following verses convey but little idea of
the feelings with which, so sung and accompanied, they were heard
by Waverley:--

  There is mist on the mountain, and night on the vale,
  But more dark is the sleep of the sons of the Gael.
  A stranger commanded--it sunk on the land;
  It has frozen each heart, and benumbed every hand!

  The dirk and the target lie sordid with dust;
  The bloodless claymore is but reddened with rust;
  On the hill or the glen if a gun should appear,
  It is only to war with the heath-cock or deer.

  The deeds of our sires if our bards should rehearse,
  Let a blush or a blow be the meed of their verse!
  Be mute every string, and be hushed 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.

  [The young and daring adventurer, Charles Edward, landed at
   Glenaladale, in Moidart, and displayed his standard in the
   valley of Glenfinnan, mustering around it the Mac-Donalds, the
   Camerons, and other less numerous clans, whom he had prevailed
   on to join him.  There is a monument erected on the spot, with
   a Latin inscription by the late Dr. Gregory.]


  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!

  [The Marquis of Tullibardine's elder brother, who, long exiled,
   returned to Scotland with Charles Edward in 1745]

  Ye sons of the strong, when that dawning shall break,
  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, Glengarry, and Sleat!
  Combine like three streams from one mountain of snow,
  And resistless in union rush down on the foe!

  True son of Sir Even, 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!

  Stern son of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kinntail,
  Let the stag in thy standard bound wild in the gale!
  May the race of Clan Gillean, the fearless and free,
  Remember Glenlivat, Harlaw, and Dundee!

  Let the clan of grey Fingon, whose offspring has given
  Such heroes to earth, and such martyrs to heaven,
  Unite with the race of renowned Rorri More,
  To launch the long galley, and stretch to the oar.

  How Mac-Shimei will joy when their chief shall display
  The ewe-crested bonnet o'er tresses of grey!
  How the race of wronged Alpine and murdered 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 Callum-More!
  Mac-Neil of the Islands, and Moy of the Lake,
  For honour, for freedom, for vengeance awake!

Here a large greyhound, bounding up the glen, jumped upon Flora,
and interrupted her music by his importunate caresses.  At a
distant whistle, he turned, and shot down the path again with the
rapidity of an arrow.  'That is Fergus's faithful attendant,
Captain Waverley, and that was his signal.  He likes no 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-born beggars,
  Mac-Leans, Mac-Kenzies, and Mac-Gregors.'

Waverley expressed his regret at the interruption.

'Oh, you cannot guess how much you have lost!  The bard, as in
duty bound, has addressed three long stanzas to Vich Ian Vohr of
the Banners, enumerating all his great properties, and not
forgetting his being a cheerer of the harper and bard,--"a giver
of bounteous gifts." Besides, you should have heard a practical
admonition to the fair-haired son of the stranger, who lives in
the land where the grass is always green--the rider on the
shining pampered steed, whose hue is like the raven, and whose
neigh is like the scream of the eagle for battle.  This valiant
horseman is affectionately conjured to remember that his
ancestors were distinguished by their loyalty, as well as by
their courage.--All this you have lost; but, since your curiosity
is not satisfied, I judge, from the distant sound of my brother's
whistle, I may have time to sing the concluding stanzas before he
comes to laugh at my translation.'

  Awake on your hills, on your islands awake,
  Brave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the lake!
  'Tis the bugle--but not for the chase is the call;
  'Tis the pibroch's shrill summons--but not to the hall.

  'Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death,
  When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath:
  They call to the dirk, the claymore, and the targe,
  To the march and the muster, the line and the charge.

  Be the brand of each Chieftain like Fin's in his ire!
  May the blood through his veins flow like currents of fire!
  Burst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of yore,
  Or die like your sires, and endure it no more!



CHAPTER XXIII

WAVERLEY CONTINUES AT GLENNAQUOICH

As Flora concluded her song, Fergus stood before them.  'I knew I
should find you here, even without the assistance of my friend
Bran.  A simple and unsublimed taste now, like my own, would
prefer a jet d'eau at Versailles to this cascade with all its
accompaniments of rock and roar; but this is Flora's Parnassus,
Captain Waverley, and that fountain her Helicon.  It would be
greatly for the benefit of my cellar if she could teach her
coadjutor, Mac-Murrough, the value of its influence:  he has just
drunk a pint of usquebaugh to correct, he said, the coldness of
the claret.--Let me try its virtues.'  He sipped a little water
in the hollow of his hand, and immediately commenced, with a
theatrical air,--

  'O Lady of the desert, hail!
  That lov'st the harping of the Gael,
  Through fair and fertile regions borne,
  Where never yet grew grass or corn.

But English poetry will never succeed under the influence of a
Highland Helicon.--ALLONS, COURAGE!--

  O vous, qui buvez, a tasse pleine,
  A cette heureuse fontaine,
  Ou on ne voit, sur le rivage,
  Que quelques vilains troupeaux,
  Suivis de nymphes de village,
  Qui les escortent sans sabots'--

'A truce, dear Fergus!  spare us those most tedious and insipid
persons of all Arcadia.  Do not, for Heaven's sake, bring down
Coridon and Lindor upon us.'

'Nay, if you cannot relish LA HOULETTE ET LE CHALUMEAU, 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 crackbrained
Italian romancers is it that says,

       Io d'Elicona niente
  Mi curo, in fe de Dio, che'il bere d'acque
  (Bea chi ber ne vuol) sempre me spiacque!
  [Good sooth, I reck not of your Helicon;
   Drink water whoso will, in faith I will drink none.]

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 CEANKINNE.'

Cathleen sang with much liveliness a little Gaelic song, the
burlesque elegy of a countryman on the loss of his cow, the comic
tones of which, though he did not understand the language, made
Waverley laugh more than once.   [This ancient Gaelic ditty is
still well known, both in the Highlands and in Ireland.  It was
translated into English, and published, if I mistake not, under
the auspices of the facetious Tom D'Urfey, by the title of
'Colley, my Cow.']

'Admirable, Cathleen!'  cried the Chieftain;  'I must find you a
handsome husband among the clansmen one of these days.'

Cathleen laughed, blushed, and sheltered herself behind her
companion.

In the progress of their return to the castle, the Chieftain
warmly pressed Waverley to remain for a week or two, in order to
see a grand hunting party, in which he and some other Highland
gentlemen proposed to join.  The charms of melody and beauty were
too strongly impressed in Edward's breast to permit his declining
an invitation so pleasing.  It was agreed, therefore, that he
should write a note to the Baron of Bradwardine, expressing his
intention to stay a fortnight at Glennaquoich, and requesting him
to forward by the bearer (a GILLY of the Chieftain's) any letters
which might have arrived for him.

This turned the discourse upon the Baron, whom Fergus highly
extolled as a gentleman and soldier.  His character was touched
with yet more discrimination by Flora, who observed that he was
the very model of the old Scottish cavalier, with all his
excellences and peculiarities.  'It is a character, Captain
Waverley, which is fast disappearing; for its best point was a
self-respect, which was never lost sight of till now.  But, in
the present time, the gentlemen whose principles do not permit
them to pay court to the existing government are neglected and
degraded, and many conduct themselves accordingly; and, like some
of the persons you have seen at Tully-Veolan, adopt habits and
companions inconsistent with their birth and breeding.  The
ruthless proscription of party seems to degrade the victims whom
it brands, however unjustly.  But let us hope that a brighter day
is approaching, when a Scottish country-gentleman may be a
scholar without the pedantry of our friend the Baron; a
sportsman, without the low habits of Mr. Falconer; and a
judicious improver of his property, without becoming a boorish
two-legged steer like Killancureit."

Thus did Flora prophesy a revolution, which time indeed has
produced, but in a manner very different from what she had in her
mind.

The amiable Rose was next mentioned, with the 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 husband will be to her what her
father now is--the object of all her care, solicitude, and
affection.  She will see nothing, and connect herself with
nothing, but by him and through him.  If he is a man of sense and
virtue, she will sympathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigue,
and share his pleasures.  If she becomes the property of a
churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, for
she will not long survive his unkindness.  And, alas, how great
is the chance that some such unworthy lot may be that of my poor
friend!--Oh, that I were a, queen this moment, and could command
the most amiable and worthy youth of my kingdom to accept
happiness with the hand of Rose 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 Bradwardine.  This is one of the
inexplicabilities of human nature, which we leave without
comment.

'Yours, brother?'  answered Flora, regarding him steadily.  'No;
you have another bride--Honour; and the dangers you must run in
pursuit of her rival would break poor Rose's heart.'

With this discourse they reached the castle, and Waverley soon
prepared his dispatches for Tully-Veolan.  As he knew the Baron
was punctilious in such matters, he was about to impress his
billet with a seal on which his armorial bearings were engraved,
but he did not find it at his watch, and thought he must have
left it at Tully-Veolan.  He mentioned his loss, borrowing at the
same time the family seal of the Chieftain.

'Surely,' said Miss Mac-Ivor, 'Donald Bean Lean would not--'

'My life for him, in such circumstances,' answered her brother;
--'besides, he would never have left the watch behind.'

'After all, Fergus,' said Flora,' and with every allowance, I am
surprised you can countenance that man.'

'I countenance him!--This kind sister of mine would persuade you,
Captain Waverley, that I take what the people of old used to call
"a steakraid," that is, a "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.  Oh, it is
certain, that unless I can find some way to charm Flora's tongue,
General Blakeney will send a sergeant's party from Stirling (this
he said with haughty and emphatic 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 a banditti, and your own honour is above taint.--Why
don't you send this Donald Bean Lean, whom I hate for his
smoothness and duplicity, even more than for his rapine, out of
your country at once?  No cause should induce me to tolerate such
a character.'

'NO cause, Flora?'  said the Chieftain, significantly.

'No cause, Fergus!  not even that which is nearest to my heart.
Spare it the omen of such evil supporters!'

'Oh, but, sister,' rejoined the Chief, gaily, 'you don't consider
my respect for LA BELLE PASSION.  Evan Dhu Maccombich is in love
with Donald's daughter, Alice, and you cannot expect me to
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 argument.--But hear ye not the
pipes, Captain Waverley?  Perhaps you will like better to dance
to them in the hall, than to be deafened with their harmony
without taking part in the exercise they invite us to.'

Waverley took Flora's hand.  The dance, song, and merry-making
proceeded, and closed the day's entertainment at the castle of
Vich Ian Vohr.  Edward at length retired, his mind agitated by a
variety of new and conflicting feelings, which detained him from
rest for some time, in that not unpleasing state of mind in which
fancy takes the helm, and the soul rather drifts passively along
with the rapid and confused tide of reflections, than exerts
itself to encounter, systematize, or examine them.  At a late
hour he fell asleep, and dreamed of Flora Mac-Ivor.



CHAPTER XXIV

A STAG-HUNT, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

Shall this be a long or a short chapter?--This is a question in
which you, gentle reader, have no vote, however much you may be
interested in the consequences; just as you may (like myself)
probably have 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 I think
proper, I cannot call you into Exchequer if you do not think
proper to read my narrative.  Let me therefore consider.  It is
true, that the annals and documents in my hands say but little of
this Highland chase; but then I can find copious materials for
description elsewhere.  There is old Lindsay of Pitscottie ready
at my elbow, with his Athole hunting, and his 'lofted and joisted
palace of green timber; with all kind of drink to be had in burgh
and land, as ale, beer, wine, muscadel, malvaise, hippocras, and
aquavitae; with wheat-bread, main-bread, ginge-bread, beef,
mutton, lamb, veal, venison, goose, grice, capon, coney, crane,
swan, partridge, plover, duck, drake, brissel-cock, pawnies,
black-cock, muir-fowl, and capercailzies;' not forgetting the
'costly bedding, vaiselle, and napry,' and least of all the
'excelling stewards, cunning barters, excellent cooks, and
pottingars, with confections and drugs for the desserts.'
Besides the particulars which may be thence gleaned for this
Highland feast (the splendour of which induced the Pope's legate
to dissent from an opinion which he had hitherto held, that
Scotland, namely, was the--the--the latter end of the world)--
besides these, might I not illuminate my pages with Taylor the
Water Poet's hunting in the braes of Mar, where,

  Through heather, mosse, 'mong frogs, and bogs, and fogs,
  'Mongst craggy cliffs and thunder-battered hills,
  Hares, hinds, bucks, roes, are chased by men and dogs,
  Where two hours' hunting fourscore fat deer kills.
  Lowland, your sports are low as is your seat;
  The Highland games and minds are high and great.

But without further tyranny over my readers, or display of the
extent of my own reading, I shall content myself with borrowing a
single incident from the memorable hunting at Lude, commemorated
in the ingenious Mr. Gunn's Essay on the Caledonian Harp, and so
proceed in my story with all the brevity that my natural style of
composition, partaking of what scholars call the periphrastic and
ambagitory, and the vulgar the circumbendibus, will permit me.

The solemn hunting was delayed, from various causes, for about
three weeks.  The interval was spent by Waverley with great
satisfaction at Glennaquoich; for the impression which Flora had
made on his mind at their first meeting grew daily stronger.  She
was precisely the character to fascinate a youth of romantic
imagination.  Her manners, her language, her talents for poetry
and music, gave additional and varied influence 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
gallantry which others appear to live for.  In the neighbourhood
of this enchantress, while sport consumed the morning, and music
and the dance led on the hours of evening, Waverley became daily
more delighted with his hospitable landlord, and more enamoured
of his bewitching sister.

At length, the period fixed for the grand hunting arrived, and
Waverley and the Chieftain departed for the place of rendezvous,
which was a day's journey to the northward of Glennaquoich.
Fergus was attended on this occasion by about three hundred of
his clan, well armed, and accoutred in their best fashion.
Waverley complied so far with the custom of the country as to
adopt the trews (he could not be reconciled to the kilt),
brogues, and bonnet, as the fittest dress for the exercise in
which he was to be engaged, and which least exposed him to be
stared at as a stranger when they should reach the place of
rendez-vous.  They found, on the spot appointed, several powerful
Chiefs, to all of whom Waverley was formally presented, and by
all cordially received.  Their vassals and clansmen, a part of
whose feudal duty it was to attend on these parties, appeared in
such numbers as amounted to a small army.  These active
assistants spread through the country far and near, forming a
circle, technically called the TINCHEL, which, gradually closing,
drove the deer in herds together towards the glen where the
Chiefs and principal sportsmen lay in wait for them.  In the
meanwhile, these distinguished personages bivouacked among the
flowery heath, wrapped up in their plaids; a mode of passing a
summer's night which Waverley found by no means unpleasant.

For many hours after sunrise, the mountain ridges and passes
retained their ordinary appearance of silence 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 sat on a hill retired;' probably as
deeply engaged in the discussion of politics and news, as
Milton's spirits in metaphysical disquisition.  At length signals
of the approach of the game were descried and heard.  Distant
shouts resounded from valley to valley, as the various parties of
Highlanders, climbing rocks, struggling through copses, wading
brooks, and traversing thickets, approached more and more near to
each other, and compelled the astonished deer, with the other
wild animals that fled before them, into a narrower circuit.
Every now and then the report of muskets was heard, repeated by a
thousand echoes.  The baying of the dogs was soon added to the
chorus, which grew ever louder and more loud.  At length the
advanced parties of the deer began to show themselves; and as the
stragglers came bounding down the pass by two or three at a time,
the Chiefs showed their skill by distinguishing the fattest deer,
and their dexterity in bringing them down with their guns.
Fergus exhibited remarkable address, and Edward was also so
fortunate as to attract the notice and applause of the sportsmen.

But now the main body of the deer appeared at the head of the
glen, compelled into a very narrow compass, and presenting such a
formidable phalanx, that their antlers appeared at a distance,
over the ridge of the steep pass, like a leafless grove.  Their
number was very great, and from a desperate stand which they
made, with the tallest of the red-deer stags arranged in front,
in a sort of battle array, gazing on the group which barred their
passage down the glen, the more experienced sportsmen began to
augur danger.  The work of destruction, however, now commenced on
all sides.  Dogs and hunters were at work, and muskets and fusees
resounded from every quarter.  The deer, driven to desperation,
made at length a fearful charge right upon the spot where the
more distinguished sportsmen had taken their stand.  The word was
given in Gaelic to fling themselves upon their faces; but
Waverley, on whose English ears the signal was lost, had almost
fallen a sacrifice to his ignorance of the ancient language in
which it was communicated.  Fergus, observing his danger, sprang
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.  [The thrust from the tynes, or
branches, of the stag's horns, was accounted far more dangerous
than those of the boar's tusk:--

  If thou be hurt with horn of stag, it brings thee to thy bier,
  But barber's hand shall boar's hurt heal; thereof have thou no
  fear.]

He detained him with a firm grasp until the whole herd of deer
had fairly run over them.  Waverley then attempted to rise, but
found that he had suffered several very severe contusions; and,
upon a further examination, discovered that he had sprained his
ankle violently.

This checked the mirth of the meeting, although the Highlanders,
accustomed to such incidents, and prepared for them, had suffered
no harm themselves.  A wigwam was erected almost in an instant,
where Edward was deposited on a couch of heather.  The surgeon,
or he who assumed the office, appeared to unite the characters of
a leech and a conjurer.  He was 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 breeches.  [This garb, which resembled the dress
often put on children in Scotland, called a polonie (i.e.
polonaise), is a very ancient modification of the Highland garb.
It was, in fact, the hauberk or shirt of mail, only composed of
cloth instead of rings of armour.]  He observed great ceremony in
approaching Edward; and though our hero was writhing with pain,
would not proceed to any operation which might assuage it until
he had perambulated his couch three times, moving from east to
west, according to the course of the sun.  This, which was called
making the DEASIL, [Old Highlanders will still make the deasil
around those whom they wish well to.  To go round a person in the
opposite direction, or wither-shins (German WIDER-SHINS), is
unlucky, and a sort of incantation.]  both the leech and the
assistants seemed to consider as a matter of the last importance
to the accomplishment of a cure; and Waverley, whom pain rendered
incapable of 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
his patient blood with a cupping-glass with great dexterity, and
proceeded, muttering all the while to himself in Gaelic, to boil
on the fire certain herbs, with which he compounded an
embrocation.  He then fomented the parts which had sustained
injury, never failing to murmur prayers or spells, which of the
two Waverley could not distinguish, as his ear only caught the
words GASPER-MELCHIOR-BALTHAZAR-MAX-PRAX-FAX, and similar
gibberish.  The fomentation had a speedy effect in alleviating
the pain and 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, while collecting 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 wert thou 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.'
  [This metrical spell, or something very like it, is preserved
  by Reginald Scott, in his work on Witchcraft.]

Edward observed, with some surprise, that even Fergus,
notwithstanding his knowledge and education, seemed to fall in
with the superstitious ideas of his countrymen, either because he
deemed it impolitic to affect scepticism on a matter of general
belief, or more probably because, like most men who do not think
deeply or accurately on such subjects, he had in his mind a
reserve of superstition which balanced the freedom of his
expressions and practice upon other occasions.  Waverley made no
commentary, therefore, on the manner of the treatment, but
rewarded the professor of medicine with a liberality beyond the
utmost conception of his wildest hopes.  He uttered, on the
occasion, so many incoherent blessings in Gaelic and English,
that Mac-Ivor, rather scandalized at the excess of his
acknowledgements, cut them short, by exclaiming, 'CEUD MILE
MHALLOICH ART ORT!'  i.e. 'A hundred 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 severe,--threw
him into a profound, but yet a feverish sleep, which he chiefly
owed to an opiate draught administered by the old Highlander from
some decoction of herbs in his pharmacopoeia.

Early the next morning, the purpose of their meeting being over,
and their sports damped by the untoward accident, in which Fergus
and all his friends expressed the greatest sympathy, it became a
question how to dispose of the disabled sportsman.  This was
settled by Mac-Ivor, who had a litter prepared, of 'birch and
hazel grey,'

  [On the morrow they made their biers,
  of birch and hazel grey.--CHEVY CHASE.]

which was borne by his people with such caution and
dexterity as renders it not improbable that they may have been
the ancestors of some of those sturdy Gael, who have now the
happiness to transport the belles of Edinburgh, in their sedan
chairs, to ten routs in one evening.  When Edward was elevated
upon their shoulders, he could not help being gratified with the
romantic effect produced by the breaking up of this sylvan camp.
[The author has been sometimes accused of confounding fiction
with reality.  He therefore thinks it necessary to state, that
the circumstance of the hunting described in the text as
preparatory to the insurrection of 1745, is, so far as he knows,
entirely imaginary.  But it is well known such a great hunting
was held in the Forest of Braemar, under the auspices of the
Earl of Mar, as preparatory to the Rebellion of 1715; and most
of the Highland Chieftains who afterwards engaged in that civil
commotion were present on this occasion.]

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 their bagpipes dying upon the ear.  Others made still a moving
picture upon the narrow plain, forming various changeful groups,
their feathers and loose plaids waving in the morning breeze, and
their arms glittering in the rising sun.  Most of the Chiefs came
to take farewell of Waverley, and to express their anxious hope
they might again, and speedily, meet; but the care of Fergus
abridged the ceremony of taking leave.  At length, his own men
being completely assembled and mustered.  Mac-Ivor commenced his
march, but not towards the quarter from which they had come.  He
gave Edward to understand, that the greater part of his
followers, now on the field, were bound on a distant expedition,
and that when he had deposited him in the house of a gentleman,
who he was sure would pay him every attention, he himself should
be under the necessity of accompanying them the greater part of
the way, but would lose no time in rejoining his friend.

Waverley was rather surprised that Fergus had not mentioned this
ulterior destination when they set out upon the hunting-party;
but his situation did not admit of many interrogatories.  The
greater part of the clansmen went forward under the guidance of
old Ballenkeiroch and Evan Dhu Maccombich, apparently in high
spirits.  A few remained for the purpose of escorting the
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 way, rendered inexpressibly
painful, Waverley was hospitably received into the house of a
gentleman related to Fergus, who had prepared for him every
accommodation which the simple habits of living, then universal
in the Highlands, put in his power.  In this person, an old man
about seventy, Edward admired a relic of primitive simplicity.
He wore no dress but what his estate afforded.  The cloth was the
fleece of his own sheep, woven by his own servants, and stained
into tartan by the dyes produced from the herbs and lichens of
the hills around him.  His linen was spun by his daughters and
maid-servants, from his own flax, nor did his table, though
plentiful, and varied with game and fish, offer an article but
what was of native produce.

Claiming himself no rights of clanship or vassalage, he was
fortunate in the alliance and protection of Vich Ian Vohr and
other bold and enterprising Chieftains, who protected him in the
quiet unambitious life he loved.  It is true, the youth born on
his grounds were often enticed to leave him for the service of
his more active friends; but a few old servants and tenants used
to shake their grey locks when they heard their master censured
for want of spirit, and observed, 'When the wind is still, the
shower falls soft.'  This good old man, whose charity and
hospitality were unbounded, would have received Waverley with
kindness, had he been the meanest Saxon peasant, since his
situation required assistance.  But his attention to a friend and
guest of Vich Ian Vohr was anxious and unremitted.  Other
embrocations were applied to the injured limb, and new spells
were put in practice.  At length, after more solicitude than was
perhaps for the advantage of his health, Fergus took farewell of
Edward for a few days, when, he said, he would return to
Tomanrait, and hoped by that time Waverley would be able to ride
one of the Highland ponies of his landlord, and in that manner
return to Glennaquoich.

The next day, when his good old host appeared, Edward learned
that his friend had departed with the dawn, leaving none of his
followers except Callum Beg, the sort of foot-page who used to
attend his person, and who had it now in charge to wait upon
Waverley.  On asking his host if he knew where the Chieftain was
gone, the old man looked fixedly at him, with something
mysterious and sad in the smile which was his only reply.
Waverley repeated his question, to which his host answered in a
proverb,--

  What sent the messengers to hell,
  Was asking what they knew full well.'
  [Corresponding to the Lowland saying, 'Mony ane speirs the
  gate they ken fu' weel.]

He was about to proceed, but Callum Beg said, rather pertly, as
Edward thought, that 'Ta Tighearnach (i.e. the Chief) did not
like ta Sassenagh Duinhe-wassel to be pingled wi' mickle
speaking, as she was na tat weel.'  From this Waverley concluded
he should disoblige his friend by inquiring of a stranger the
object of a journey which he himself had not communicated.

It is unnecessary to trace the progress of our hero's recovery.
The sixth morning had arrived, and he was able to walk about with
a staff, when Fergus returned with about a score of his men.  He
seemed in the highest spirits, congratulated Waverley on his
progress towards recovery, and finding he was able to sit on
horseback, proposed their immediate return to Glennaquoich,
Waverley joyfully acceded, for the form of his fair mistress had
lived in his dreams during all the time of his confinement.

  Now he has ridden o'er moor and moss,
  O'er hill and many a glen.

Fergus, all the while, with his myrmidons, striding stoutly by
his side, or diverging to get a shot at a roe or a heath-cock.
Waverley's bosom beat thick when they approached the old tower of
Ian nan Chaistel, and could distinguish the fair form of its
mistress advancing to meet them.

Fergus began immediately, with 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 Marquis of Mantua, the sad attendant of his half-
slain friend, Baldovinos of the Mountain.--Ah, long rest to thy
soul, Cervantes!  without quoting thy remnants, how should I
frame my language to befit romantic ears!'

Flora now advanced, and welcoming Waverley with much kindness,
expressed her regret for his accident, of which she had already
heard the particulars, and her surprise that her brother should
not have taken better care to put a stranger on his guard against
the perils of the sport in which he engaged him.  Edward easily
exculpated the Chieftain, who, indeed, at his own personal risk,
had probably saved his life.

This greeting over, Fergus said three or four words to his sister
in Gaelic.  The tears instantly sprang to her eyes, but they
seemed to be tears of devotion and joy, for she looked up to
heaven, and folded her hands as in a solemn expression of prayer
or gratitude.  After the pause of a minute, she presented to
Edward some letters which had been forwarded from 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 the north of the Tweed.

Both gentlemen retired to examine their dispatches, and Edward
speedily found that those which he had received contained matters
of very deep interest.



CHAPTER XXV

NEWS FROM ENGLAND

The letters which Waverley had hitherto received from his
relations in England, were not such as required any particular
notice in this narrative.  His father usually wrote to him with
the pompous affectation of one who was too much oppressed by
public affairs to find leisure to attend to those of his own
family.  Now and then he mentioned persons of rank in Scotland to
whom he wished his son should pay some attention; but Waverley,
hitherto occupied by the amusements which he had found at Tully-
Veolan and Glennaquoich, dispensed with paying any attention to
hints so coldly thrown out, especially as distance, shortness of
leave of absence, and so forth, furnished a ready apology.  But
latterly the burden of Mr. Richard Waverley's paternal epistles
consisted in certain mysterious hints of greatness and influence
which he was speedily to attain, and which would ensure his son's
obtaining the most rapid promotion, should he remain in the
military service.  Sir Everard's letters were of a different
tenor.  They were short; for the good Baronet was none of your
illimitable correspondents, whose manuscript overflows the folds
of their large post paper, and leaves no room for the seal; but
they were kind and affectionate, and seldom concluded without
some allusion to our hero's stud, some question about the state
of his purse, and a special inquiry after such of his recruits as
had preceded him from Waverley-Honour.  Aunt Rachel charged him
to remember his principles of religion, to take care of his
health, to beware of Scotch mists, which, she had heard, would
wet an Englishman through and through; never to go out at night
without his great-coat; and, above all, to wear flannel next to
his skin.

Mr. Pembroke only wrote to our hero one letter, but it was of 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 reference to the two tracts with which he had
presented Waverley.  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 pamphlets, lately published by his friend in
Little Britain, with whom he had kept up a sort of literary
correspondence, in virtue of which the library shelves of
Waverley-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 Jonathan Grubbet, bookseller and
stationer, Little Britain.  Such had hitherto been the style of
the letters which Edward had received from England; but the
packet delivered to him at Glennaquoich 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 written, without a
glance into the interior of the British Cabinet at the period in
question.

The Ministers of the day happened (no very singular event) to be
divided into two parties; the weakest of which, making up by
assiduity of intrigue their inferiority in real consequence, had
of late acquired some new proselytes, and with them the hope of
superseding their rivals in the favour of their sovereign, and
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 mysterious demeanour, an
attention to the etiquette of business, rather more than to its
essence, a facility in making long dull speeches, consisting of
truisms and commonplaces, hashed 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 dashes 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 everyday use, since they were
confessedly formed of no holiday texture.

This faith had become so general, that the insurgent party in the
Cabinet of which we have made mention, after sounding Mr. Richard
Waverley, were so satisfied with his sentiments and abilities, 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.  All the official gentlemen
concerned in it, who hesitated to take the part of a voluntary
resignation, were informed that the king had no further occasion
for their services; and, in Richard Waverley's case, which the
Minister considered as aggravated 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 occasion was a
masterpiece of its kind.  Aristides himself could not have made
out a harder case.  An unjust monarch, and an ungrateful country,
were the burden of each rounded paragraph.  He spoke of long
services, and unrequited sacrifices; though the former had been
overpaid by his salary, and nobody could guess in what the latter
consisted, unless it were in his deserting, not from conviction,
but for the lucre of gain, the Tory principles of his family.  In
the conclusion, his resentment was wrought to such an excess by
the force of his own oratory, that he could not repress some
threats of vengeance, however vague and impotent, and finally
acquainted his son with his pleasure that he should testify his
sense of the ill-treatment he had sustained, by throwing up his
commission as soon as the letter reached him.  This, he said, was
also his uncle's 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 recollection of their differences, and,
remote as he was from every means of learning that Richard's
disgrace was in reality only the just, as well as natural
consequence, of his own unsuccessful intrigues, the good but
credulous Baronet at once set it down as a new and enormous
instance of the injustice of the existing Government.  It was
true, he said, 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 Everard had no doubt that he now both saw
and felt the magnitude 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 disgrace; the
patrimonial injury could easily be obviated by the head of their
family.  But it was both the opinion of Mr. Richard Waverley and
his own, that Edward, the representative of the family of
Waverley-Honour, should not remain in a situation which subjected
him also to such treatment as that with which his father had been
stigmatized.  He requested his nephew therefore to take the
fittest, and, at the same time, the most speedy opportunity, of
transmitting his resignation to the War-Office, and hinted,
moreover, that little ceremony was necessary where so little had
been used to his father.  He sent multitudinous greetings to the
Baron of Bradwardine.

A letter from Aunt Rachel spoke out even more plainly.  She
considered the disgrace of brother Richard as the just reward of
his forfeiting his allegiance to a lawful, though exiled
sovereign, and taking the oaths to an alien; a concession which
her grandfather, Sir Nigel Waverley, refused to make, either to
the Roundhead Parliament or to Cromwell, when his life and
fortune stood in the utmost extremity.  She hoped her dear Edward
would follow the footsteps of his ancestors, and as speedily as
possible get rid of the badge of servitude to the usurping
family, and regard the wrongs sustained by his father as an
admonition from Heaven, that every desertion of the line of
loyalty becomes its own punishment.  She also concluded with her
respects to Mr. Bradwardine, and begged Waverley would inform her
whether his daughter, Miss Rose, was old enough to wear a pair of
very handsome ear-rings, which she proposed to send as a token of
her affection.  The good lady also desired to be informed whether
Mr. 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 political opinion to place in opposition to
the movements of indignation which he felt at his father's
supposed wrongs.  Of the real cause of his disgrace, Edward was
totally ignorant; nor had his habits at all led him to
investigate the politics of the period in which he lived, or
remark the intrigues in which his father had been so actively
engaged.  Indeed, 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 hesitation, into the resentful
feeling of the relations who had the best title to dictate his
conduct; and not perhaps the less willingly, when he remembered
the tedium of his quarters, and the inferior 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 decided by the
following letter from his commanding-officer, which, as it is
very short, shall be inserted verbatim:--

'SIR,

'Having carried somewhat beyond the line of my duty an indulgence
which even the lights of nature, and much more those of
Christianity, direct towards errors which may arise from youth
and inexperience, and that altogether without effect, I am
reluctantly compelled, at the present crisis, to use the only
remaining remedy which is in my power.  You are therefore, hereby
commanded to repair to --, the head-quarters of the regiment,
within three days after the date of this letter.  If you shall
fail to do so, I must report you to the War-Office as absent
without leave, and also take other steps, which will be
disagreeable to you, as well as to, Sir,

  'Your obedient Servant,
    J. GARDINER, Lieut.-Col.
  'Commanding the -- Regt. Dragoons.'

Edward's blood boiled within him as he read this letter.  He had
been accustomed from his very infancy to possess, in a great
measure, the disposal of his own time, and thus acquired habits
which rendered the rules of military 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 anything occurred, to his knowledge, that
should have induced his commanding-officer, without any other
warning than the hints we noticed at the end of the fourteenth
chapter, so suddenly to assume a harsh, and, as Edward deemed it,
so insolent a tone of dictatorial authority.  Connecting it with
the letters he had just received from his family, he could not
but suppose that it was designed to make him feel, in his present
situation, the same pressure of authority which had been
exercised in his father's case, and that the whole was a
concerted scheme to depress and degrade every member of the
Waverley family.

Without a pause, therefore, Edward wrote a few cold lines,
thanking his lieutenant-colonel for past civilities, and
expressing regret that he should have chosen to efface the
remembrance of them, by assuming a different tone towards him.
The strain of his letter, as well as what he (Edward) conceived
to be his duty, in the present crisis, called upon him to lay
down his commission; and he therefore enclosed the formal
resignation of a situation which subjected him to so unpleasant a
correspondence, and requested Colonel Gardiner would have the
goodness to forward it to the proper authorities.

Having finished this magnanimous epistle, he felt somewhat
uncertain concerning the terms in which his resignation ought to
be expressed, upon which subject he resolved to consult Fergus
Mac-Ivor.  It may be observed in passing, that the bold and
prompt habits of thinking, acting, and speaking, which
distinguished this young Chieftain, had given him a considerable
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 extensive knowledge of the world.

When Edward found his friend, the latter had still in his hand
the newspaper which he had perused, and advanced to meet him with
the embarrassment of one who has unpleasing news to communicate.
'Do your letters, Captain Waverley, confirm the unpleasing
information which I find in this paper?'

He put the paper into his hand, where his father's disgrace was
registered in the most bitter terms, transferred probably from
some London journal.  At the end of the paragraph was this
remarkable innuendo:--

'We understand, that "this same RICHARD, who hath done all this,"
is not the only example of the WAVERING HONOUR of W-v-rl-y H-n-r.
See the GAZETTE of this day.'

With hurried and feverish apprehension our hero turned to the
place referred to, and found therein recorded, 'Edward Waverley,
captain in -- regiment dragoons, superseded for absence without
leave:' and in the list of military promotions, referring to the
same regiment, he discovered this further article, 'Lieut. Julius
Butler, to be captain, vice Edward Waverley, superseded.'

Our hero's bosom glowed with the resentment which undeserved and
apparently premeditated insult was calculated to excite in the
bosom of one who had aspired after 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 absence had
been literally fulfilled, and without inquiry, as it seemed,
whether Edward had either received his summons, or was disposed
to comply with it.  The whole, therefore, appeared a formed plan
to degrade him in the eyes of the public; and the idea of its
having succeeded filled him with such bitter emotions, that,
after various attempts to conceal them, he at length threw
himself into Mac-Ivor's arms, and gave vent to tears of shame and
indignation.

It was none of this Chieftain's faults to be indifferent to the
wrongs of his friends; and for Edward, independent of certain
plans with which he was connected, he felt a deep and sincere
interest.  The proceeding appeared as extraordinary to him as it
had done to Edward.  He indeed knew of more motives than Waverley
was privy to, for the peremptory order that he should join his
regiment.  But that, without further inquiry into the
circumstances of a necessary delay, the commanding officer, in
contradiction to his known and established character, should have
proceeded in so harsh and unusual a manner, was a mystery which
he could not penetrate.  He soothed our hero, however, to the
best of his power, and began to turn his thoughts on revenge for
his insulted honour.

Edward eagerly grasped at the idea.  'Will you carry a message
for me to Colonel Gardiner, my dear Fergus, and oblige me for
ever?'

Fergus paused.  'It is an act of friendship which you should
command, could it be useful, or lead to the righting your honour;
but in the present case, I doubt if your commanding-officer would
give you the meeting on account of his having taken measures,
which, however harsh and exasperating, were still within the
strict bounds of his duty.  Besides, Gardiner is a precise
Huguenot, and has adopted certain ideas about the sinfulness of
such rencontres, from which it would be impossible to make him
depart, especially as his courage is beyond all suspicion.  And
besides, I--I--to say the truth--I dare not at this moment, for
some very weighty reasons, go near any of the military quarters
or garrisons belonging to this government.'

'And am I,' said Waverley, 'to sit down quiet and contented under
the injury I have received?'

'That will I never advise, my friend,' replied Mac-Ivor.  'But I
would have vengeance to fall on the head, not on the hand; on the
tyrannical and oppressive Government which designed and directed
these premeditated and reiterated insults, not on the tools of
office which they employed in the execution of the injuries they
aimed at you.'

'On the Government!'  said Waverley.

'Yes,' replied the impetuous Highlander, 'on the usurping House
of Hanover, whom your grandfather would no more have served than
he would have taken wages of red-hot gold from the great fiend of
hell!'

'But since the time of my grandfather, two generations of this
dynasty have possessed the throne,' said Edward, coolly.

'True,' replied the Chieftain; 'and because we have passively
given them so long the means of showing their native character,
--because both you and I myself have lived in quiet submission,
have even truckled to the times so far as to accept commissions
under them, and thus have 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 lines of your
favourite poet?--

  Had Richard unconstrained resigned the throne,
  A king can give no more than is his own;
  The title stood entailed 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
you are relieved of your servitude.  But first add a postcript to
your letter, marking the time when you received this
calvinistical Colonel's first summons, and express your regret
that the hastiness of his proceedings prevented your anticipating
them by sending your resignation.  Then let him blush for his
injustice.'

The letter was sealed accordingly, covering a formal resignation
of the commission, and Mac-Ivor dispatched it with some letters
of his own by a special messenger, with charge to put them into
the nearest post office in the Lowlands.



CHAPTER XXVI

AN ECLAIRCISSEMENT

The hint which the Chieftain had thrown out respecting Flora was
not unpremeditated.  He had observed with great satisfaction the
growing attachment of Waverley to his sister, nor did he see any
bar to their union, excepting the situation which Waverley's
father held in the ministry, and Edward's own commission in the
army of George II.  These obstacles were now removed, and in a
manner which apparently paved the way for the son's becoming
reconciled to another allegiance.  In every other respect the
match would be most eligible.  The safety, happiness, and
honourable provision of his sister, whom he dearly loved,
appeared to be ensured by the proposed union; and his heart
swelled when he considered how his own interest would be exalted
in the eyes of the ex-monarch to whom he had dedicated his
service, by an alliance with one of those ancient, powerful, and
wealthy English families of the steady Cavalier faith, to awaken
whose decayed attachment to the Stuart family was now a matter of
such vital importance to the Stuart cause.  Nor could Fergus
perceive any obstacle to such a scheme.  Waverley's attachment
was evident; and as his person was handsome, and his taste
apparently coincided with her own, he anticipated no opposition
on the part of Flora.  Indeed, between his ideas of patriarchal
power, and those which he had acquired in France respecting the
disposal of females in marriage, any opposition from his sister,
dear as she was to him, would have been the last obstacle on
which he would have calculated, even had the union been less
eligible.

Influenced by these feelings, the Chief now led Waverley in quest
of Miss Mac-Ivor, not without the hope that the present agitation
of his guest's spirits might give him courage to cut short what
Fergus termed the romance of the courtship.  They found Flora,
with her faithful attendants, Una and Cathleen, busied in
preparing what appeared to Waverley to be white bridal favours.
Disguising as well as he could the agitation of his mind,
Waverley asked for what joyful occasion Miss Mac-Ivor made such
ample preparation.

'It is for Fergus's bridal,' she said, smiling.

'Indeed!'  said Edward; 'he has kept his secret well.  I hope he
will allow me to be his bride's-man.'

'That is a man's office, but not yours, as Beatrice says,'
retorted Flora.

'And who is the fair lady, may I be permitted to ask, Miss Mac-
Ivor?'

'Did not I tell you long since, that Fergus wooed no bride but
Honour?'  answered Flora.

'And am I then incapable of being his assistant and counsellor in
the pursuit of honour?'  said our hero, colouring deeply.  'Do I
rank so low in your opinion?'

'Far from it, Captain Waverley.  I would to God you were of our
determination!  and made use of the expression which displeased
you, solely

  Because you are not of our quality,
  But stand against us as an enemy.

'That time is past, sister,' said Fergus; 'and you may wish
Edward Waverley (no longer captain) joy of being freed from the
slavery to an usurper, implied in that sable and ill-omened
emblem.'

'Yes,' said Waverley, undoing the cockade from his hat, 'it has
pleased the king who bestowed this badge upon me, to resume it in
a manner which leaves me little reason to regret his service.'

'Thank God for that!'  cried the enthusiast;--'and oh that they
may be blind enough to treat every man of honour who serves them
with the same indignity, that I may have less to sigh for when
the struggle approaches!

'And now, sister,' said the Chieftain, 'replace his cockade with
one of a 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,' replied the lady, 'till the knight adventurer had well
weighed the justice and the danger of the cause, Fergus.  Mr.
Waverley is just now too much agitated by feelings of recent
emotion, for me to press upon him a resolution of consequence.'

Waverley felt half alarmed at the thought of adopting the badge
of what was by the majority of the kingdom esteemed rebellion,
yet he could not disguise his chagrin at the coldness with which
Flora parried her brother's hint.  'Miss Mac-Ivor, I perceive,
thinks the knight unworthy of her encouragement and favour,' said
he, somewhat bitterly.

'Not so, Mr. Waverley,' she replied, with great sweetness.  'Why
should I refuse my brother's valued friend a boon which I am
distributing to his whole clan?  Most willingly would I enlist
every man of honour in the cause to which my brother has devoted
himself.  But Fergus has taken his measures with his eyes open.
His life has been devoted to this cause from his cradle; with him
its call is sacred, were it even a summons to the tomb.  But how
can I wish you, Mr. Waverley, so new to the world, so far from
every friend who might advise and ought to influence you,--in a
moment too of sudden pique and indignation,--how can I wish you
to plunge yourself at once into so desperate an enterprise?'

Fergus, who did not understand these delicacies, strode through
the apartment biting his lip, and then, with a constrained smile,
said, 'Well, sister, I leave you to act your new character of
mediator between the Elector of Hanover and the subjects of your
lawful sovereign and benefactor,' and left the room.

There was a painful pause, which was at length broken by Miss
Mac-Ivor.  'My brother is unjust,' she said, 'because he can bear
no interruption that seems to thwart his loyal zeal.'

'And do you not share his ardour?'  asked Waverley.

'Do I not?'  answered Flora--'God knows mine exceeds his, if that
be possible.  But I am not, like him, rapt by the bustle of
military preparation, and the infinite detail necessary to the
present undertaking, beyond consideration of the grand principles
of justice and truth, on which our enterprise is grounded; and
these, I am certain, can only be furthered by measures in
themselves true and just.  To operate upon your present feelings,
my dear Mr. Waverley, to induce you to an irretrievable step, of
which you have not considered either the justice or the danger,
is, in my poor judgement, neither the one nor the other.'

'Incomparable Flora!'  said Edward, taking her hand, 'how much do
I need such a monitor!'

'A better one by far,' said Flora, gently withdrawing her hand,
'Mr. Waverley will always find in his own bosom, when he will
give its small still voice leisure to be heard.'

'No, Miss Mac-Ivor, I dare not hope it.  A thousand 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 future life'--

'Hush, my dear sir!  now you carry your joy at escaping the hands
of a Jacobite recruiting officer to an unparalleled excess of
gratitude.'

'Nay, dear Flora, trifle with me no longer; you cannot mistake
the meaning of those feelings which I have almost involuntarily
expressed; and since I have broken the barrier of silence, let me
profit by my audacity--Or may I, with your permission, mention to
your brother'--

'Not for the world, Mr. Waverley!'

'What am I to understand?'  said Edward.  'Is there any fatal
bar--has any prepossession'--

'None, sir,' answered Flora.  'I owe it to myself to say, that I
never yet saw the person on whom I thought with reference to the
present subject.'

'The shortness of our acquaintance, perhaps--If Miss Mac-Ivor
will deign to give me time'

'I have not even that excuse.  Captain Waverley's character is so
open--is, in short, of that nature, that it cannot be
misconstrued, either in its strength or its weakness.'

'And for that weakness you despise me?'  said Edward.

'Forgive me, Mr. Waverley, and remember it is but within this
half-hour that there existed between us a barrier of a nature to
me insurmountable, since I never could think of an officer in the
service of the Elector of Hanover in any other light than as a
casual acquaintance.  Permit me then to arrange my ideas upon so
unexpected 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 broadswords, just
arrived from good friends; and two or three hundred stout fellows
almost fighting which shall first possess them.--But let me look
at you closer--Why, a true Highlander would say you had been
blighted by an evil eye.--Or can it be this silly girl that has
thus blanked your spirit?--Never mind her, dear Edward; the
wisest of her sex are fools in what regards the business of
life.'

'Indeed, my good friend,' answered Waverley, 'all that I can
charge against your sister is, that she is too sensible, too
reasonable.'

'If that be all, I ensure you for a louis d'or against the mood
lasting four-and-twenty hours.  No woman was ever steadily
sensible for that period; and I will engage, if that will please
you, Flora shall be as unreasonable to-morrow as any of her sex.
You must learn, my dear Edward, to consider women EN
MOUSQUETAIRE.'  So saying, he seized Waverley's arm, and dragged
him off to review his military preparations.



CHAPTER XXVII

UPON THE SAME SUBJECT

Fergus Mac-Ivor had too much tact and delicacy to renew the
subject which he had interrupted.  His head was, or appeared to
be, so full of guns, broadswords, bonnets, canteens, and tartan
hose, that Waverley could not for some time draw his attention to
any other topic.

'Are you to take the field so soon, Fergus,' he asked, 'that you
are making all these martial preparations?'

'When we have settled that you go with me, you shall know all;
but otherwise, the knowledge might rather be prejudicial to you.'

'But are you serious in your purpose, with such inferior forces,
to rise against an established government?  It is mere frenzy.'

'LAISSEZ FAIRE A DON ANTOINE--I shall take good care of myself.
We shall at least use the compliment of Conan, who never got a
stroke but he gave one.  I would not, however,' continued the
Chieftain, 'have you think me mad enough to stir till a
favourable opportunity:  I will not slip my dog before the game's
afoot.  But once more, will you join with us, and you shall know
all?'

'How can I?'  said Waverley; 'I who have so lately held that
commission which is now posting back to those that gave it?  My
accepting it implied a promise of fidelity, and an
acknowledgement of the legality of the government.

'A rash promise,' answered Fergus, 'is not a steel handcuff; it
may be shaken off, especially when it was given under deception,
and has been repaid by insult.  But if you cannot immediately
make up your mind to a glorious revenge, go to England, and ere
you cross the Tweed, you will hear tidings that will make the
world ring; and if Sir Everard be the gallant old cavalier I have
heard him described by some of our HONEST gentlemen of the year
one thousand seven hundred and fifteen, he will find you a better
horse-troop and a better cause than you have lost.'

'But your sister, Fergus?'

'Out, hyperbolical fiend,' replied the Chief, laughing; 'how
vexest thou this man!--Speak'st thou of nothing but of ladies?'

'Nay, be serious, my dear friend,' said Waverley; 'I feel that
the happiness of my future life must depend upon the answer which
Miss Mac-Ivor shall make to what I ventured to tell her this
morning.'

'And is this your very sober earnest,' said Fergus, more gravely,
'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,' answered his friend, 'I am very
glad to hear it; and so highly do I think of Flora, that; you are
the only man in England for whom I would say so much.--But before
you shake my hand so warmly, there is more to be considered.--
Your own family--will they approve your connecting yourself with
the sister of a highborn Highland beggar?'

'My uncle's situation,' said Waverley, '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 connexion.
And where can I find both united in such excellence as in your
sister?'

'Oh, nowhere!--CELA VA SANS DIRE,' replied Fergus with a smile.
'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, especially as I am
convinced that my uncle will be warm in my cause.'

'Religion, perhaps,' said Fergus, 'may make obstacles, though we
are not bigoted Catholics.'

'My grandmother was of the Church of Rome, and her 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,' replied Fergus, 'like her loving brother, is
very apt to have a pretty decisive will of her own, by which, in
this case, you must be ruled; but you shall not want my interest,
nor my counsel.  And, in the first place, I will give you one
hint--loyalty is her ruling passion; and since she could spell an
English book, she has been in love with the memory of the gallant
Captain Wogan, who renounced the service of the usurper Cromwell
to join the standard of Charles II, marched a handful of cavalry
from London to the Highlands to join Middleton, then in arms for
the king, and at length died gloriously in the royal cause.  Ask
her to show you some verses she made on his history and fate;
they have been much admired, I assure you.  The next point is--I
think I saw Flora go up towards the waterfall a short time since
--follow, man, follow!  don't allow the garrison time to
strengthen its purposes of resistance--ALERTE A LA MURAILLE!
Seek Flora out, and learn her decision as soon as you can--and
Cupid go with you, while I go to look over belts and cartouch-
boxes.'

Waverley ascended the glen with an anxious and throbbing heart.
Love, with all its romantic train of hopes, fears, and wishes,
was mingled with other feelings of a nature less easily defined.
He could not but remember how much this morning had changed his
fate, and into what a complication of perplexity it was likely to
plunge him.  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 infer either subversion of the
government he had so lately served, or the destruction of all who
had participated in them, Should Flora even listen to his suit
favourably, what prospect was there of its being brought to a
happy termination, amid the tumult of an impending insurrection?
Or how could he make the selfish request that she should leave
Fergus, to whom she was so much attached, and, retiring with him
to England, wait, as a distant spectator, the success of her
brother's undertaking, or the ruin of all his hopes and
fortunes!--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 whirled along by him, the
partaker of all his desperate and impetuous motions, renouncing
almost the power of judging, or deciding upon the rectitude or
prudence of his actions,--this was no pleasing prospect for the
secret pride of Waverley to stoop to.  And yet what other
conclusion remained, saving the rejection of his addresses by
Flora, an alternative not to be thought of in the present high-
wrought state of his feelings, with anything short of mental
agony.  Pondering the doubtful and dangerous prospect before him,
he at length arrived near the cascade, where, as Fergus had
augured, he found Flora seated.

She was quite alone; and, as soon as she observed his approach,
she arose, and came to meet him.  Edward attempted to say
something within the verge of ordinary compliment and
conversation, but found himself unequal to the task.  Flora
seemed at first equally embarrassed, but recovered herself more
speedily, and (an unfavourable augury for Waverley's suit) was
the first to enter upon the subject of their last interview, 'It
is too important, in every point of view, Mr. Waverley, to permit
me to leave you in doubt on my sentiments.'

'Do not speak them speedily,' said Waverley, much agitated,
'unless they are such as, I fear from your manner, I must not dare
to anticipate.  Let time--let my future conduct--let your
brother's influence'--

'Forgive me, Mr. Waverley,' said Flora, her complexion a little
heightened, but her voice firm and composed.  'I should incur my
own heavy censure, did I delay expressing my sincere conviction
that I can never regard you otherwise than as a valued friend.  I
should do you the highest injustice did I conceal my sentiments
for a moment.  I see I distress you, and I grieve for it, but
better now than later; and oh, 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!'  exclaimed Waverley, 'why should you anticipate such
consequences from a union where birth is equal, where fortune is
favourable, where, if I may venture to say so, the tastes are
similar, where you allege no preference for another, where you
even express a favourable opinion of him whom you reject?'

'Mr. Waverley, I HAVE that favourable opinion,' answered Flora;
'and so strongly, that though I would rather have been silent on
the grounds of my resolution, you shall command them, if you
exact such a mark of my esteem and confidence.'

She sat down upon a fragment of rock, and Waverley, placing
himself near her, anxiously pressed for the explanation she
offered.

'I dare hardly,' she said, 'tell you the situation of my
feelings, they are so different from those usually ascribed to
young women at my period of life; and I dare hardly touch upon
what I conjecture to be the nature of yours, lest I should give
offence where I would willingly administer consolation.  For
myself, from my infancy till this day, I have had but one wish
--the restoration of my royal benefactors to their rightful
throne.  It is impossible to express to you the devotion of my
feelings to this single subject; and I will frankly confess, that
it has so occupied my mind as to exclude every thought respecting
what is called my own settlement in life.  Let me but live to see
the day of that happy restoration, and a Highland cottage, a
French convent, or an English palace, will be alike indifferent
to me.'

'But, dearest Flora, how is your enthusiastic zeal for the exiled
family inconsistent with my happiness?'

'Because you seek, or ought to seek in the object of your
attachment, a heart whose principal delight should be in
augmenting your domestic felicity, and returning your affection,
even to the height of romance.  To a man of less keen
sensibility, and less enthusiastic tenderness of disposition,
Flora Mac-Ivor might give content, if not happiness; for were the
irrevocable words spoken, 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 capable of loving, of
admiring you, than to me?'

'Simply because the tone of our affections would be more in
unison, and because his more blunted sensibility would not
require the return of enthusiasm which I have not to bestow.  But
you, Mr. Waverley, would for ever refer to the idea of domestic
happiness which your imagination is capable of painting, and
whatever fell short of that ideal representation would be
construed into coolness and indifference, while you might
consider the enthusiasm with which I regarded the success of the
royal family as defrauding your affection of its due return.'

'In other words, Miss Mac-Ivor, you cannot love me?'  said her
suitor, dejectedly.

'I could esteem you, Mr. Waverley, as much, perhaps more, than
any man I have ever seen; but I cannot love you as you ought to
be loved.  Oh!  do not, for your own sake, desire so hazardous an
experiment!  The woman whom you marry ought to have affections
and opinions moulded upon yours.  Her studies ought to be your
studies;--her wishes, her feelings, her hopes, her fears, should
all mingle with yours.  She should enhance your pleasures, share
your sorrows, and cheer your melancholy.'

'And, why will not you, Miss Mac-Ivor, who can so well describe a
happy union,--why will not you be yourself the person you
describe?'

'Is it possible you do not yet comprehend me?'  answered Flora.
'Have I not told you, that every keener sensation of my mind is
bent exclusively towards an event, upon which, indeed, I have no
power but those of my earnest prayers?'

'And might not the granting the suit I solicit,' said Waverley,
too earnest on his purpose to consider what he was about to say,
'even advance the interest to which you have devoted yourself?
My family is wealthy and powerful, inclined in principles to the
Stuart race, and should a favourable opportunity'--

'A favourable opportunity!'  said Flora, somewhat scornfully,--
'inclined in principles!--Can such lukewarm adherence be
honourable to yourselves, or gratifying to your lawful
sovereign?--Think, from my present feelings, what I should suffer
when I held the place of member in a family where the rights
which I hold most sacred are subjected to cold discussion, and
only deemed worthy of support when they shall appear on the point
of triumphing without it!'

'Your doubts,' quickly replied Waverley, 'are unjust as far as
concerns myself.  The cause that I shall assert, I dare support
through every danger, as undauntedly as the boldest who draws
sword in its behalf.'

'Of that,' answered Flora, 'I cannot doubt for a moment.  But
consult your own good sense and reason, rather than a
prepossession hastily adopted, probably only because you have met
a young woman possessed of the usual accomplishments, in a
sequestered and romantic situation.  Let your part in this great
and perilous drama rest upon conviction, and not on a hurried,
and probably a 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, although wildly enthusiastic,
was generous and noble, and disdained to avail itself of any
indirect means of supporting the cause to which she was devoted.

After walking a little way in silence down the path, Flora thus
resumed the conversation.--'One word more, Mr. Waverley, ere we
bid farewell to this topic for ever; and forgive my boldness if
that word have the air of advice.  My brother Fergus is anxious
that you should join him in his present enterprise.  But do not
consent to this:  you could not, by your single exertions,
further his success, and you would inevitably share his fall, if
it be God's pleasure that fall he must.  Your character would
also suffer irretrievably.  Let me beg you will return to your
own country; and, having publicly freed yourself from every tie
to the usurping government, I trust you will see cause, and find
opportunity, to serve your injured sovereign with effect, and
stand forth, as your loyal ancestors, at the head of your natural
followers and adherents, a worthy representative of the house of
Waverley.'

'And should I be so happy as thus to distinguish myself, might I
not hope'--

'Forgive my interruption,' said Flora.  'The present time only is
ours, and I can but explain to you with candour the feelings
which I now entertain; how they might be altered by a train of
events too favourable perhaps to be hoped for, it were in vain
even to conjecture:  only be assured, Mr. Waverley, that, after
my brother's honour and happiness, there is none which I shall
more sincerely pray for than for yours.'

With these words she parted from him, for they were now arrived
where two paths separated.  Waverley reached the castle amidst a
medley of conflicting passions.  He avoided any private interview
with Fergus, as he did not find himself able either to encounter
his raillery, or reply to his solicitations.  The wild revelry of
the feast, for Mac-Ivor kept open table for his clan, served in
some degree to stun reflection.  When their festivity was ended,
he began to consider how he should again meet Miss Mac-Ivor after
the painful and interesting explanation of the morning.  But
Flora did not appear.  Fergus, whose eyes flashed when he was
told by Cathleen that her mistress designed to keep her apartment
that evening, went himself in quest of her; but apparently his
remonstrances were in vain, for he returned with a heightened
complexion, and manifest symptoms of displeasure.  The rest of
the evening passed on without any allusion, on the part either of
Fergus or Waverley, to the subject which engrossed the
reflections of the latter, and perhaps of both.

When retired to his own apartment, Edward endeavoured to sum up
the business of the day.  That the repulse he had received from
Flora would be persisted in for the present, there was no doubt.
But could he hope for ultimate success in case circumstances
permitted the renewal of his suit?  Would the enthusiastic
loyalty, which at this animating moment left no room for a softer
passion, survive, at least in its engrossing force, the success
or the failure of the present political machinations?  And if so,
could he hope that the interest which she had acknowledged him to
possess in her favour, might be improved into a warmer
attachment?  He taxed his memory to recall every word she had
used, with the appropriate looks and gestures which had enforced
them, and ended by finding himself in the same state of
uncertainty.  It was very late before sleep brought relief to the
tumult of his mind, after the most painful and agitating day
which he had ever passed.



CHAPTER XXVIII

A LETTER FROM TULLY-VEOLAN

In the morning, when Waverley's troubled reflections had for some
time given way to repose, there came music to his dreams, but not
the voice of Selma.  He imagined himself transported back to
Tully-Veolan, and that he heard Davie Gellatley singing in the
court those matins which used generally to be the first sounds
that disturbed his repose while a guest of the Baron of
Bradwardine.  The notes which suggested this vision continued,
and waxed louder, until Edward awoke in earnest.  The illusion,
however, did not seem entirely dispelled.  The apartment was in
the fortress of Ian nan Chaistel, but it was still the voice of
Davie Gellatley that made the following lines resound under the
window:--

  My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
  My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
  A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
  My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
  [These lines form the burden of an old song to which Burns
  wrote additional verses.]

Curious to know what could have determined Mr. Gellatley 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 naught in the Highlands but syboes and leeks,
  And lang-leggit callants gaun wanting the breeks;
  Wanting the breeks, and without hose and shoon,
  But we'll a' win the breeks when King Jamie comes hame.
  [These lines are also ancient, and I believe to the tune of
  'We'll never hae peace till Jamie comes hame;'
  to which Burns likewise wrote some verses.]

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 the gates of the castle with their
presence, and was capering and dancing full merrily in the
doubles and full career of a Scotch foursome reel, to the music
of his own whistling.  In this double capacity of dancer and
musician, he continued, until an idle piper, who observed his
zeal, obeyed the unanimous call of SEID SUAS (i.e. blow up), and
relieved him from the latter part of his trouble.  Young and old
then mingled in the dance as they could find partners.  The
appearance of Waverley 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, he of a
sudden prolonged his side-step until it brought him to the place
where Edward was standing, and, still keeping time to the music
like Harlequin in a pantomime, he thrust a letter into our hero's
hand, and continued his saltation without pause or intermission,
Edward, who perceived that the address was in Rose's handwriting,
retired to peruse it, leaving the faithful bearer to continue his
exercise until the piper or he should be tired out.

The contents of the letter greatly surprised him.  It had
originally commenced with DEAR SIR; but these words had been
carefully erased, and the monosyllable, SIR, substituted in their
place.  The rest of the contents shall be given in Rose's own
language :--

'I fear I am using an improper freedom by intruding upon you, yet
I cannot trust to any one else to let you know some things which
have happened here, with which it seems necessary you should be
acquainted.  Forgive me if I am wrong in what I am doing; for,
alas!  Mr. Waverley, I have no better advice than that of my own
feelings;--my dear father is gone from this place, and when he
can return to my assistance and protection, God alone knows.  You
have probably heard, that in consequence of some troublesome news
from the Highlands, warrants were sent out for apprehending
several gentlemen in these parts, and, among others, my dear
father.  In spite of all my tears and entreaties that he would
surrender himself to the Government, he joined with Mr. Falconer
and some other gentlemen, and they have all gone northwards, with
a body of about forty horsemen.  So I am not so anxious
concerning his immediate safety, as about what may follow
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 has escaped, in case you happen to have
heard that he was in danger.

'The day after my father went off, there came a party of soldiers
to Tully-Veolan, and behaved very rudely to Bailie Macwheeble;
but the officer was very civil to me, only said his duty obliged
him to search for arms and papers.  My father had provided
against this by taking away all the arms except the old useless
things which hung in the hall; and he had put all his papers out
of the way.  But oh!  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 on your falling into their
hands you would be in great danger; I cannot prevail on myself to
write what wicked falsehoods they said, for I am sure they are
falsehoods; but you will best judge what you ought to do.  The
party that returned carried off your servant prisoner, with your
two horses, and everything 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 military violence nor
fighting among clans permitted, but everything was done according
to an equal law that protected all who were harmless and
innocent.  I hope you will exert your indulgence as to my
boldness in writing to you, where it seems to me, though perhaps
erroneously, that your safety and honour are concerned.  I am
sure--at least I think, my father would approve of my writing;
for Mr. Rubrick is fled to his cousin's at the Duchran, to be out
of danger from the soldiers and the Whigs, and Bailie Macwheeble
does not like to meddle (he says) in other men's concerns, though
I hope what may serve my father's friend at such a time as this,
cannot be termed improper interference.  Farewell, Captain
Waverley!  I shall probably never see you more; for it would be
very improper to wish you to call at Tully-Veolan just now, even
if these men were gone; but I will always remember 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.

'PS.--I hope you will send me a line by David Gellatley, just to
say you have received this, and that you will take care of
yourself; and forgive me if I entreat you, for your own sake, to
join none of these unhappy cabals, but escape, as fast as
possible, to your own fortunate country.--My compliments to my
dear Flora, and, to Glennaquoich.  Is she not as handsome and
accomplished as I have described her?'

Thus concluded the letter of Rose Bradwardine, the contents of
which both surprised and affected Waverley.  That the Baron
should fall under the suspicions of Government, in consequence of
the present stir among the partisans of the house of Stuart,
seemed only the natural consequence of his political
predilections; but how he himself should have been involved in
such suspicions, conscious that until yesterday he had been free
from harbouring a thought against the prosperity of the reigning
family, seemed inexplicable.  Both at Tully-Veolan and
Glennaquoich, his hosts had respected his engagements with the
existing government, and though enough passed by accidental
innuendo that might induce him to reckon the Baron and the Chief
among those disaffected gentlemen who were still numerous in
Scotland, yet until his own connexion with the army had been
broken off by the resumption of his commission, he had no reason
to suppose that they nourished any immediate or hostile attempts
against the present establishment.  Still he was aware that
unless he meant at once to embrace the proposal of Fergus Mac-
Ivor, it would deeply concern him to leave the 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 accessory
to the plague of civil war.  Whatever were the original rights of
the Stuarts, calm reflection told him, that, omitting the
question how far James the Second could forfeit those of his
posterity, he had, according to the united voice of the whole
nation, justly forfeited his own.  Since that period, four
monarchs had reigned in peace and glory over Britain, sustaining
and exalting the character of the nation abroad, and its
liberties at home.  Reason asked, was it worth while to disturb a
government so long settled and established, and to plunge a
kingdom into all the miseries of civil war, for the purpose of
replacing upon the throne the descendants of a monarch by whom it
had been wilfully forfeited?  If, on the other hand, his own
final conviction of the goodness of their cause, or the commands
of his father or uncle, should recommend to him allegiance to the
Stuarts, still it was necessary to clear his own character by
showing that he had not, as seemed to be falsely insinuated,
taken any step to this purpose, during his holding the commission
of the reigning monarch.

The affectionate simplicity of Rose, and her anxiety for his
safety,--his sense, too, of her unprotected state, and of the
terror and actual dangers to which she might be exposed, made an
impression upon his mind, and he instantly wrote to thank her in
the kindest terms for her solicitude on his account, to express
his earnest good wishes for her welfare and that of her father,
and to assure her of his own safety.  The feelings which this
task excited were speedily lost in the necessity which he now saw
of bidding farewell to Flora Mac-Ivor, perhaps for ever.  The
pang attending this reflection were 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 judgement the
choice adopted by his passions.  But time pressed, calumny was
busy with his fame, and every hour's delay increased the power to
injure it.  His departure must be instant.

With this determination he sought out Fergus, and communicated to
him the contents of Rose's letter, with his own resolution
instantly to go to Edinburgh, and put into the hands of some one
or other of those persons of influence to whom he had letters
from his father, his exculpation from any charge which might be
preferred against him.

'You run your head into the lion's mouth,' answered Mac-Ivor.
'You do not know the severity of a Government harassed by just
apprehensions, and a consciousness of their own illegality and
insecurity.  I shall have to deliver you from some dungeon in
Stirling or Edinburgh Castle.'

'My innocence, my rank, my father's intimacy with Lord M--,
General G--, &c., will be a sufficient protection,' said
Waverley.

'You will find the contrary,' replied the Chieftain;--'these
gentlemen will have enough to do about their own matters.  Once
more, will you take the plaid, and stay a little while with us
among the mists and the crows, in the bravest cause ever sword
was drawn in?'  [A Highland rhyme on Glencairn's Expedition, in
1650, has these  lines--

 We'll hide a while among ta crows,
 'We'll wiske ta sword and bend ta bows.]

'For many reasons, my dear Fergus, you must hold me excused.'

'Well, then,' said Mac-Ivor, 'I shall certainly find you exerting
your poetical talents in elegies upon a prison, or your
antiquarian researches in detecting the Oggam  [The Oggam is a
species of the old Irish character.  The idea of the
correspondence betwixt the Celtic and Punic, founded on a scene
in Plautus, was not started till General Vallancey set up his
theory, long after the date of Fergus Mac-Ivor.] character, or
some Punic hieroglyphic upon the key-stones of a vault, curiously
arched.  Or what say you to UN PETIT PENDEMENT BIEN JOLI?
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?'  said Waverley.

'For a hundred good reasons,' answered Fergus:  'First, you are
an Englishman; secondly, a gentleman; thirdly, a prelatist
abjured; and, fourthly, they have not had an opportunity to
exercise their talents on such a subject this long while.  But
don't be cast down, beloved:  all will be done in the fear of the
Lord.'

'Well, I must run my hazard,'

'You are determined, then?'

'I am.'

'Wilful will do 't,' said Fergus;--'but you cannot go on foot and
I shall want no horse, as I must march on foot at the head of the
children of Ivor; you shall have Brown Dermid.'

'If you will sell him, I shall certainly be much obliged.'

'If your proud English heart cannot be obliged by a gift or loan,
I will not refuse money at the entrance of a campaign:  his price
is twenty guineas, [Remember, reader, it was Sixty Years since.]
And when do you propose to depart?'

'The sooner the better,' answered Waverley.

'You are right, since go you must, or rather, since go you will:
I will take Flora's pony, and ride with you as far as Bally-
Brough.--Callum 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 Edinburgh.  Put on a Lowland dress, Callum, 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?'

'Surely--that is, if Miss Mac-Ivor will honour me so far.'

'Cathleen, let my sister know that Mr. Waverley wishes to bid her
farewell before he leaves us.--But Rose Bradwardine,--her
situation must be thought of.  I wish she were here.  And why
should she not?  There are but four red-coats at 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 opened--it was but Cathleen, with her lady's
excuse, and wishes for Captain Waverley's health and happiness.



CHAPTER XXIX

WAVERLEY'S RECEPTION IN THE LOWLANDS AFTER HIS HIGHLAND TOUR

It was noon when the two friends stood at the top of the pass of
Bally-Brough.  'I must go no farther,' said Fergus Mac-Ivor, who
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, write letters, and make friends as many and as
fast as you can; there will speedily be unexpected guests on the
coast of Suffolk, or my news from France has deceived me.'  [The
sanguine Jacobites, during the eventful years 1745-6, kept up the
spirits of their party by the rumour of descents from France on
behalf of the Chevalier St. George.]

Thus parted the friends; Fergus returning back to his castle,
while Edward, followed by Callum Beg, the 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 altogether
embittered feelings which separation and uncertainty produce in
the mind of a youthful lover.  I am not sure if the ladies
understand the full value of the influence of absence, nor do I
think it wise to teach it them, lest, like the Clelias and
Mandanes of yore, they should resume the humour of sending their
lovers into banishment.  Distance, in truth, produces in idea the
same effect as in real prospective.  Objects are softened, and
rounded, and rendered doubly graceful; the harsher and more
ordinary points of character are mellowed down, and those by
which it is remembered are the more striking outlines that mark
sublimity, grace, or beauty.  There are mists, too, in the
mental, as well as the natural horizon, to conceal what is less
pleasing in distant objects, and there are happy lights, to
stream in full glory upon those points which can profit by
brilliant illumination.

Waverley forgot Flora Mac-Ivor's prejudices in her magnanimity,
and almost pardoned her indifference towards his affection, when
he recollected the grand and decisive object which seemed to fill
her whole soul.  She, whose sense of duty so wholly engrossed her
in the cause of a benefactor,--what would be her feelings in
favour of the happy individual who should be so fortunate as to
awaken them?  Then came the doubtful question, whether he might
not be that happy man,--a question which fancy endeavoured to
answer in the affirmative, by conjuring up all she had said in
his praise, with the addition of a comment much more flattering
than the text warranted.  All that was commonplace--all that
belonged to the everyday world--was melted away and obliterated
in those dreams of imagination, which only remembered with
advantage the points of grace and dignity that distinguished
Flora, from the generality of her sex, not the particulars which
she held in common with them, Edward was, in short, in the fair
way of creating a goddess out of a high-spirited, accomplished,
and beautiful young woman; and the time was wasted in castle-
building, until, at the descent of a steep hill, he saw beneath
him the market-town of --.

The Highland politeness of Callum Beg--there are few nations, by
the way, who can boast of so much natural politeness as the
Highlanders [The Highlander, in former times, had always a high
idea, of his own gentility, and was anxious to impress the same
upon those with whom he conversed.  His language abounded in the
phrases of courtesy and compliment; and the habit of carrying
arms, and mixing with those who did so, made if particularly
desirable they should use cautious politeness in their
intercourse with each other.]--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, Callum pressed closer to his side, and hoped 'When they
cam to the public, his honour wad not say nothing about Vich Ian
Vohr, for ta people were bitter Whigs, deil burst tem.'

Waverley assured the prudent page that he would be cautious; and
as he now distinguished, not indeed the ringing of bells, but the
tinkling of something like a hammer against the side of an old
messy, green, inverted porridge-pot, that hung in an open booth,
of the size and shape of a parrot's cage, erected to grace the
east end of a building resembling an old barn, he asked Callum
Beg if it were Sunday.

'Could na say just preceesely--Sunday seldom cam aboon the pass
of Bally-Brough.'

On entering the town, however, and advancing towards the most
apparent public house which presented itself, the numbers of old
women, in tartan screens and red cloaks, who streamed from the
barn-resembling building, debating, as they went, the comparative
merits of the blessed youth Jabesh Rentowel, and that chosen
vessel Maister Goukthrapple, induced Callum to assure his
temporary master, 'that it was either ta muckle Sunday hersell,
or ta little government Sunday that they ca'd ta fast.'

On alighting at the sign of the Seven-branched Golden
Candlestick, 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.  Reflecting, however, in all probability, that he
possessed the power of mulcting them for this irregularity, a
penalty which they might escape by passing into Gregor
Duncanson's, at the sign of the Highlander and the Hawick Gill,
Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks condescended to admit them into his
dwelling.

To this sanctified person Waverley addressed his request that he
would procure him a guide, with a saddle-horse, to carry his
portmanteau to Edinburgh.

'And whar may ye be coming from?'  demanded mine host of the
Candlestick.

'I have told you where I wish to go; I do not conceive any
further information necessary either for the guide or his saddle-
horse.'

'Hem!  Ahem!'  returned he of the Candlestick, somewhat
disconcerted at this rebuff.  'It's the general fast, sir, and I
cannot enter into ony carnal transactions on sic a day, when the
people should be humbled, and the back sliders should return, as
worthy Mr. Goukthrapple said; and moreover when, as the precious
Mr. Jabesh Rentowel did weel observe, the land was mourning for
covenants burnt, broken, and buried.'

'My good friend,' said Waverley, 'if you cannot let me have a
horse and guide, my servant shall seek them elsewhere.'

'Aweel!  Your servant?--and what for gangs he not forward wi' you
himsell?'

Waverley had but very little of a captain of horse's spirit
within him--I mean of that sort of spirit which I have been
obliged to when I happened, in a mail-coach, or diligence, to
meet some military man who has kindly taken upon him the
disciplining of the waiters, and the taxing of reckonings.  Some
of this useful talent our hero had, however, acquired during his
military service, and on this gross provocation it began
seriously to arise.  'Look ye, sir; I came here for my own
accommodation, and not to answer impertinent questions.  Either
say you can, or cannot, get me what I want; I shall pursue my
course in either case.'

Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks left the room with some indistinct
muttering; but whether negative or acquiescent, Edward could not
well distinguish.  The hostess, a civil, quiet, laborious drudge,
came to take his orders for dinner, but declined to make answer
on the subject of the horse and guide; for the Salique law, it
seems, extended to the stables of the Golden Candlestick.

From a window which overlooked the dark and narrow court in which
Callum Beg rubbed down 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?'  began the latter.

'And ye may say that,' answered Callum.

'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 propitiation, resumed his
scrutiny.

'Ye'll no hae mickle better whisky than that aboon the Pass?'

'I am nae frae aboon the Pass.'

'Ye're a Highlandman by your tongue?'

'Na; I am but just Aberdeen-a-way.'

'And did your master come frae Aberdeen wi' you?'

'Aye--that's when I left it mysell,' answered the cool and
impenetrable Callum 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 hantle siller,
and never grudges ony thing till a poor body, or in the way of a
lawing.'

'He wants a guide and a horse frae hence to Edinburgh?'

'Aye, and ye maun find it him forthwith.'

'Ahem!  It will be chargeable.'

'He cares na for that a bodle.'

'Aweel, Duncan--did ye say your name was Duncan, or Donald?'

'Na, man--Jamie--Jamie Steenson--I telt ye before.'

This last undaunted parry altogether foiled Mr. Cruickshanks,
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 on the reckoning and horse-hire, that might compound for
his ungratified curiosity.  The circumstance of its being the
fast-day was not forgotten in the charge, which, on the whole,
did not, however, amount to much more than double what in
fairness it should have been.

Callum Beg soon after announced in person the ratification of
this treaty, adding, 'Ta auld deevil was ganging to ride wi' ta
Duinhe-wassel hersell.'

'That will not be very pleasant, Callum, nor altogether safe, for
our host seems a person of great curiosity; but a traveller must
submit to these inconveniences.  Meanwhile, my good lad, here is
a trifle for you to drink Vich Ian Vohr's health.'

The hawk's eye of Callum flashed delight upon a golden guinea,
with which these last words were accompanied.  He hastened, not
without a curse on the intricacies 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
requital on his part, he gathered close up to Edward, with an
expression of countenance peculiarly knowing, and spoke in an
undertone, 'If his honour thought ta auld deevil Whig carle was a
bit dangerous, she could easily provide for him, and tell ane ta
wiser.'

'How, and in what manner?'

'Her ain sell,' replied Callum, 'could wait for him a wee bit
frae the toun, and kittle his quarters wi' her SKENE-OCCLE.'

'Skene-occle!  what's that?'

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. Ebenezer Cruickshanks; in
which injunction the page seemed to acquiesce with an air of
great indifference.

'Ta Duinhe-wassel might please himsell; 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 enterprising character is so well drawn by
Clarendon.  He had originally engaged 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
the Earl of Glencairn and General Middleton in the Highlands of
Scotland, took leave of Charles II, who was then at Paris, passed
into England, assembled a body of cavaliers in the neighbourhood
of London, and traversed the kingdom, which had been so long
under domination of the usurper, by marches conducted with such
skill, dexterity, and spirit, that he safely united his handful
of horsemen with the body of Highlanders then in arms.  After
several months of desultory warfare, in which Wogan's skill and
courage gained him the highest reputation, he had the misfortune
to be wounded in a dangerous manner, and no surgical assistance
being within reach, he terminated his short but glorious career.

Where 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 disposition 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 tease her; for,
to tell you the truth, I think her more in love with the memory
of that dead hero, than she is likely to be with any living one,
unless he shall tread a similar path.  But English squires of our
day keep their oak-trees to shelter their deer-parks, or repair
the losses of an evening at White's, and neither invoke them to
wreathe their brows nor shelter their graves.  Let me hope for
one brilliant exception in a dear friend, to whom I would most
gladly give a dearer title.'

The verses were inscribed,

TO AN OAK TREE

IN THE CHURCHYARD OF --, IN THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND, SAID TO
MARK THE GRAVE OF CAPTAIN WOGAN, KILLED IN 1649.

  Emblem of England's ancient faith,
  Full proudly may thy branches wave,
  Where loyalty lies low in death,
  And valour fills a timeless grave.

  And thou, brave tenant of the tomb!
  Repine not if our clime deny,
  Above thine honoured sod to bloom,
  The flowerets 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 worth be type of thine?

  No!  for 'mid storms of Fate opposing,
  Still higher swelled thy dauntless heart,
  And, while Despair the scene was closing,
  Commenced thy brief but brilliant part.

  Twas then thou sought'st on Albyn's hill,
  (When England's sons the strife resigned),
  A rugged race, resisting still,
  And unsubdued though unrefined.

  Thy death's hour heard no kindred wail,
  No holy knell thy requiem rung;
  Thy mourners were the plaided Gael;
  Thy dirge the clamorous pibroch sung.

  Yet who, in Fortune's summer-shine,
  To waste life's longest term away,
  Would change that glorious dawn of thine,
  Though darkened 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 Wogan's tomb.

Whatever might be the real merit of Flora Mac-Ivor's poetry, the
enthusiasm which it intimated was well calculated to make a
corresponding impression upon her lover.  The lines were read--
read again--then deposited in Waverley's bosom--then again drawn
out, and read line by line, in a low and smothered voice, and
with frequent pauses which, prolonged the mental treat, as an
epicure protracts, by sipping slowly the enjoyment of a delicious
beverage.  The entrance of Mrs. Cruickshanks, with the sublunary
articles of dinner and wine, hardly interrupted this pantomime of
affectionate enthusiasm.

At length the tall, ungainly figure and ungracious visage of
Ebenezer presented themselves.  The upper part of his form,
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 over-shadowed both, and being
buttoned beneath the chin, was called a TROT-COZY.  His hand
grasped a huge jockey-whip, garnished with brass mounting.  His
thin legs tenanted a pair of gambadoes, fastened at the sides
with rusty clasps.  Thus accoutred, he stalked into the midst of
the apartment, and announced his errand in brief phrase:-- 'Yer
horses are ready.'

'You go with me yourself then, landlord?'

'I do, as far as Perth; where you may be supplied With a guide to
Embro', as your occasions shall require.'

Thus saying, he placed under Waverley's eye the bill which he
held in his hand; and at the same time, self-invited, filled a
glass of wine, and drank devoutly to a blessing on their journey.
Waverley stared at the man's impudence, but, as their connexion
was to be short, and promised to be convenient, he made no
observation upon it; and, having paid his reckoning, expressed
his intention to depart immediately.  He mounted Dermid
accordingly, and sallied forth from the Golden Candlestick,
followed by the puritanical figure we have described, after he
had, at the expense of some time and difficulty, and by the
assistance of a 'louping-on-stane,' or structure of masonry
erected for the traveller's 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 portmanteau was deposited.  Our hero, though not in a
very gay humour, could hardly help laughing at the appearance of
his new squire, and at imagining the astonishment which his
person and equipage would have excited at Waverley-Honour.

Edward's tendency to mirth did not escape mine host of the
Candlestick, who, conscious of the cause, infused a double
portion of souring into the pharisaical leaven of his
countenance, and resolved internally that in one way or other the
young ENGLISHER should pay dearly for the contempt with which he
seemed to regard him.  Callum also stood at the gate, and
enjoyed, with undissembled glee, the ridiculous figure of Mr.
Cruickshanks.  As Waverley passed him, he pulled off his hat
respectfully, and approaching his stirrup, bade him 'Tak heed the
auld Whig deevil played him nae cantrip.'

Waverley once more thanked, and bade him farewell, and then rode
briskly onward, not sorry to be out of hearing of the shouts of
the children, as they beheld old Ebenezer rise and sink in his
stirrups, to avoid the concussions occasioned by a hard trot upon
a half-paved street.  The village of -- was soon several miles
behind him.



CHAPTER XXX

SHOWS THAT THE LOSS OF A HORSE'S SHOE MAY BE A SERIOUS INCONVENIENCE

The manner and air of Waverley, but, above all, the glittering
contents of his purse, and the indifference with which he seemed
to regard them, somewhat overawed his companion, and deterred him
from making any attempts to enter upon conversation.  His own
reflections were, moreover, agitated by various surmises, and by
plans of self-interest, with which these were intimately
connected.  The travellers journeyed, therefore, in silence,
until it was interrupted by the annunciation, on the part of the
guide, that his 'naig had lost a fore-foot shoe, which,
doubtless, his honour would consider it was his part to replace.'

This was what lawyers call a FISHING 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 expected that I am to
pay for the casualties whilk may befall the puir naig while in
your honour's service.--Nathless, if your honour--'

'Oh, you mean I am to pay the farrier; but where shall we find
one?'

Rejoiced at discerning there would be no objection made on the
part of his temporary master, Mr. Cruickshanks assured him that
Cairnvreckan, a village which they were about to enter, was happy
in an excellent blacksmith; 'but as he was a professor, he would
drive a nail for no man on the Sabbath, or kirk-fast, unless it
were in a case of absolute necessity, for which he always charged
sixpence each shoe.'  The most important part of this
communication, in the opinion of the speaker, made a very slight
impression on the hearer, who only internally wondered what
college this veterinary professor belonged to; not aware that the
word was used to denote any person who pretended to uncommon
sanctity of faith and manner.

As they entered the village of Cairnvreckan, they speedily
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 betokened 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 appeared to be
in full activity.  Nor was the labour of a rural and pacific
nature.  The master smith, benempt, as his sign intimated, John
Mucklewrath, with two assistants, toiled busily in arranging,
repairing, and furbishing old muskets, pistols, and swords, which
lay scattered around his workshop in military confusion.  The
open shed, containing the forge, was crowded with persons who
came and went as if receiving and communicating important news;
and a single glance at the aspect of the people who traversed the
street in haste, or stood assembled in groups, with eyes
elevated, and hands uplifted, announced that some extraordinary
intelligence was agitating the public mind of the municipality of
Cairnvreckan.  'There is some news,' said mine host of the
Candlestick, pushing his lantern-jawed visage and bare-boned nag
rudely forward into the crowd--'there is some news; and if it
please my Creator, I will forthwith obtain speirings thereof.'

Waverley, with better regulated curiosity than his attendant's,
dismounted, and gave his horse to a boy who stood idling near.
It arose, perhaps, from the shyness of his character in early
youth, that he felt dislike at applying to a stranger even for
casual information, without previously glancing at his
physiognomy and appearance.  While he looked about in order to
select the person with whom he would most willingly hold
communication, the buzz around saved him in some degree the
trouble of interrogatories.  The names of Lochiel, Clanronald,
Glengarry, and other distinguished Highland Chiefs, among whom
Vich Ian Vohr was repeatedly mentioned, were as familiar in men's
mouths as household 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 years
old, which she danced in her arms, without regard to its screams
of terror, sang forth, with all her might,--

 'Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling,
  Charlie is my darling,
  The young Chevalier!

'D'ye hear what's come ower ye now,' continued the virago, 'ye
whingeing Whig carles?  D'ye hear wha's coming to cow yer cracks?

  Little wot ye wha's coming,
  Little wot ye wha's coming,
  A' the wild Macraws are coming.'

The Vulcan of Cairnvreckan, who acknowledged his Venus in this
exulting Bacchante, regarded her with a grim and ire-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 ranting fule sangs in?--a time when the
wine of wrath is poured out without mixture in the cup of
indignation, and a day when the land should give testimony
against popery, and prelacy, and quakerism, and independency, and
supremacy, and erastianism, and antinomianism, and a' the errors
of the church?'

'And that's a' your Whiggery,' re-echoed the Jacobite heroine;
'that's a' your Whiggery, and your presbytery, ye cut-lugged,
graning carles!  What!  d'ye think the lads wi' the kilts will
care for yer synods and yer presbyteries, and yer buttock-mail,
and yer stool o' repentance?  Vengeance on the black face o't!
Mony an honester woman's been set upon it than streeks doon
beside ony Whig in the country.  I mysell'--

Here John Mucklewrath, who dreaded her entering upon a detail of
personal experience, interposed his matrimonial authority.  'Gae
hame, and be d-- (that I should say sae), and put on the sowens
for supper.'

'And you, ye doil'd dotard,' replied his gentle helpmate, her
wrath, which had hitherto wandered abroad over the whole
assembly, being at once and violently impelled into its natural
channel, 'ye stand there hammering dog-heads for fules that will
never snap them at a Highlandman, instead, of earning bread for
your family, and shoeing this winsome young gentleman's horse
that's just come frae the north!  I'se warrant him nane of your
whingeing King George folk, but a gallant Gordon, at the least o'
him.'

The eyes of the assembly were now turned upon Waverley, who took
the opportunity to beg the smith to shoe his guide's horse with
all speed, as he wished to proceed on his journey;--for he had
heard enough to make him sensible that there would be danger in
delaying long in this place.  The smith's eye rested on him with
a look of displeasure and suspicion, not lessened by the
eagerness with which his wife enforced Waverley's mandate.  'D'ye
hear what the weel-favoured young gentleman says, ye drunken
ne'er-do-good?'

And what may your name be, sir?'  quoth Mucklewrath.

'It is of no consequence to you, my friend, provided I pay your
labour.'

'But it may be of consequence to the state, sir,' replied an old
farmer, smelling strongly of whisky and peat-smoke; 'and I doubt
we maun delay your journey till you have seen the Laird.'

'You certainly,' said Waverley, haughtily, 'will find it both
difficult and dangerous to detain me, unless you can produce some
proper authority.'

There was a pause and a whisper among the crowd--'Secretary
Murray;' 'Lord Lewis Gordon;' 'Maybe the Chevalier himsell!'
Such were the surmises that passed hurriedly among them, and
there was obviously an increased disposition to resist WaverIey's
departure.  He attempted to argue mildly with them, but his
voluntary ally, Mrs. Mucklewrath, broke in upon and drowned his
expostulations, taking his part with an abusive violence, which
was all set down to Edward's account by those on whom it was
bestowed.  'YE'LL stop ony gentleman that's the Prince's freend?'
for she too, though with other feelings, had adopted the general
opinion respecting Waverley.  'I daur ye to touch him,' spreading
abroad her long and muscular fingers, garnished with claws which
a vulture might have envied.  'I'll set my ten commandments in
the face o' the first loon that lays a finger on him.'

'Gae hame, gudewife, quoth the farmer aforesaid; 'it wad better
set 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, gudeman,
  And a green turf on your head, gudeman!
  Then I would ware my widowhood
  Upon a ranting Highlandman.'

This canticle, which excited a suppressed titter among the
younger part of the audience, totally overcame the patience of
the taunted man of the anvil.  'Deil be in me but I'll put this
het gad down her throat!'  cried he, in an ecstasy of wrath,
snatching a bar from the forge; and he might have executed his
threat, had he not been withheld by a part of the mob; while the
rest endeavoured to force the termagant out of his presence.

Waverley meditated a retreat in the confusion, but his horse was
nowhere to be seen.  At length he observed, at some distance, his
faithful attendant, Ebenezer, who, as soon as he had perceived
the turn matters were likely to take, had withdrawn both horses
from the press, and, mounted on the one, and holding the other,
answered the loud and repeated calls of Waverley for his horse--
'Na, na!  if ye are nae friend to kirk and the king, and are
detained as siccan a person, ye maun answer to honest men of the
country for breach of contract; and I maun keep the naig and the
walise for damage and expense, in respect my horse and mysell
will lose to-morrow's 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 personal 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
Partridge says, that one man with a pistol is equal to a hundred
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 Cairnvreckan would therefore
probably have given way, nor would Ebenezer, whose natural
paleness had waxed three shades more cadaverous, have ventured to
dispute a mandate so enforced, had not the Vulcan of the village,
eager to discharge upon some more worthy object the fury which
his helpmate had provoked, and not ill satisfied to find such an
object in Waverley, rushed at him with the red-hot bar of iron,
with such determination as made the discharge of his pistol an
act of self-defence.  The unfortunate man fell; and while Edward,
thrilled with a natural horror at the incident, neither had
presence of mind to unsheathe his sword nor to draw his remaining
pistol, the populace threw themselves upon him, disarmed him, and
were about to use him with great violence, when the appearance of
a venerable clergyman, the pastor of the parish, put a curb on
their fury.

This worthy man (none of the Goukthrapples or Rentowels)
maintained his character with the common people, although he
preached the practical fruits of Christian faith, as well as its
abstract tenets, and was respected by the higher orders,
notwithstanding he declined 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 doctrine, that, although his memory has formed a
sort of era in the annals of Cairnvreckan, so that the
parishioners, to denote what befell Sixty Years since, still say
it happened 'in good Mr. Morton's time,' I have never been able
to discover which he belonged to, the evangelical, or the
moderate party in the kirk.  Nor do I hold the circumstance of
much moment, since, in my own remembrance, the one was headed by
an Erskine, the other by a Robertson.  [The Rev. John Erskine,
D.D., an eminent Scottish divine, and a most excellent man,
headed the Evangelical party in the Church of Scotland at the
time when the celebrated Dr. Robertson, the historian, was the
leader of the Moderate party.  These two distinguished persons
were colleagues in the Old Grey Friars' Church, Edinburgh; and,
however much they differed in church politics, preserved the most
perfect harmony as private friends, and as clergymen serving the
same cure.]

Mr. Morton had been alarmed by the discharge of the pistol, and
the increasing hubbub around the smithy.  His first attention,
after he had directed the bystanders to detain Waverley, but to
abstain from injuring him, was turned to the body of Mucklewrath,
over which his wife, in a revulsion of feeling, was weeping,
howling, and tearing her elf-locks, in a state little short of
distraction.  On raising up the smith, the first discovery was,
that he was alive; and the next, that he was likely to live as
long as if he had never heard the report of a pistol in his life.
He had made a narrow escape, however; the bullet had grazed his
head, and stunned him for a moment or two, which trance terror
and confusion of spirit had prolonged, somewhat longer.  He now
arose to demand vengeance on the person of Waverley, and with
difficulty acquiesced in the proposal of Mr. Morton, that he
should be carried before the laird, as a justice of peace, and
placed at his disposal.  The rest of the assistants unanimously
agreed to the measure recommended; even Mrs. Mucklewrath, who had
begun to recover from 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, escorted by the
whole inhabitants of the village who were not bed-ridden, was
conducted to the house of Cairnvreckan, which was about half a
mile distant.



CHAPTER XXXI

AN EXAMINATION

Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, an elderly gentleman, who had
spent his youth in the military service, received Mr. Morton with
great kindness, and our hero with civility.  which the equivocal
circumstances wherein Edward was placed rendered constrained and
distant.

The nature of the smith's hurt was inquired into, and as the
actual injury was likely to prove trifling, and the circumstances
in which it was received rendered the infliction, on Edward's
part, a natural act of self-defence, the Major conceived he might
dismiss that matter, on Waverley's depositing in his hands a
small sum for the benefit of the wounded person.

'I could wish, sir,' continued the Major, 'that my duty
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 communicated to
the magistrate all he knew or suspected, from the reserve of
Waverley, and the evasions of Callum Beg.  The horse upon which
Edward rode, he said he knew to belong to Vich Ian Vohr, though
he dared not tax Edward's former attendant with the fact, lest he
should have his house and stables burnt over his head some night
by that godless gang, the Mac-Ivors.  He concluded by
exaggerating his own services to kirk and state, as having been
the means, under God (as he modestly qualified the assertion), of
attaching this suspicious and formidable delinquent.  He
intimated hopes of future reward, and of instant reimbursement
for loss of time, and even of character, by travelling on the
state business on the fast-day.

To this Major Melville answered, with great composure, that so
far from claiming any merit in this affair, Mr. Cruickshanks
ought to deprecate the imposition of a very heavy fine for
neglecting to lodge, in terms of the recent proclamation, an
account with the nearest magistrate of any stranger who came to
his inn; that as Mr. Cruickshanks boasted so much of religion and
loyalty, he should not impute this conduct to disaffection, but
only suppose that his zeal for kirk and state had been lulled
asleep by the opportunity of charging a stranger with double
horse-hire; that, however, feeling himself incompetent to decide
singly upon the conduct of a person of such importance, he should
reserve it for consideration of the next quarter-sessions.  Now
our history for the present saith no more of him of the
Candlestick, who wended dolorous and malcontent back to his own
dwelling.

Major Melville then commanded the villagers to return to their
homes, excepting two, who officiated as constables, and whom he
directed to wait below.  The apartment was thus cleared of every
person but Mr. Morton, whom the Major invited to remain; a sort
of factor, who acted as clerk; and Waverley himself.  There
ensued a painful and embarrassed pause, till Major Melville,
looking upon Waverley with much compassion, and often consulting
a paper or memorandum which he held in his hand, requested to
know his name.--'Edward Waverley.'

'I thought so; late of the -- dragoons, and nephew of Sir Everard
Waverley of Waverley-Honour?'

'The same.'

'Young gentleman, I am extremely sorry that this painful duty has
fallen to my lot.'

'Duty, Major Melville, renders apologies superfluous.'

'True, sir; permit me, therefore, to ask you how your time has
been disposed of since you obtained leave of absence from your
regiment, several weeks ago, until the present moment?'

'My reply,' said Waverley, 'to so general a question must be
guided by the nature of the charge which renders it necessary.  I
request to know what that charge is, and upon what authority I am
forcibly detained to reply to it?'

'The charge, Mr. Waverley, I grieve to say, is of a very high
nature, and affects your character both as a soldier and a
subject.  In the former 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 regiment, contrary to the express orders of your
commanding-officer.  The civil crime of which you stand accused
is that of high treason, and levying war against the king, the
highest delinquency of which a subject can be guilty.'

'And by what authority am I detained to reply to such heinous
calumnies?'

'By one which you must not dispute, nor I disobey.'

He handed to Waverley a warrant from the Supreme Criminal Court
of Scotland, in full form, for apprehending and securing the
person of 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 conscious guilt, while Mr.
Morton was rather disposed to construe it into the surprise of
innocence unjustly suspected.  There was something true in both
conjectures; for although Edward's mind acquitted him of the
crime with which he was charged, yet a hasty review of his own
conduct convinced him he might have great difficulty in
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, I must
necessarily request to see such papers as you have on your
person.'

'You shall, sir, without reserve,' said Edward, throwing his
pocket-book and memorandums upon the table; 'there is but one
with which I could wish you would dispense.'

'I am afraid, Mr. Waverley, I can indulge you with no
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 morning received,
and presented them with the envelope.  The Major perused them in
silence, and directed his clerk to make a copy of them.  He then
wrapped the copy in the envelope, and placing it on the table
before him, returned the original to Waverley, with an air of
melancholy gravity.

After indulging the prisoner, for such our hero must now be
considered, with what he thought a reasonable time for
reflection, Major Melville resumed his examination, premising,
that as Mr. Waverley seemed to object to general questions, his
interrogatories should be as specific as his information
permitted.  He then proceeded in his investigation, dictating, as
he went on, the import of the questions and answers to the
amanuensis, by whom it was written down.

Did Mr. Waverley know one Humphry Houghton, a non-commissioned
officer in Gardiner's dragoons?'

'Certainly; he was sergeant of my troop, and son of a tenant of
my uncle.'

'Exactly--and had a considerable share of your confidence, and an
influence among his comrades?'

'I had never occasion to repose confidence in a person of his
description,' answered Waverley.  'I favoured Sergeant Houghton
as a clever, active young fellow, and I believe his fellow
soldiers respected him accordingly.'

'But you used through this man,' answered Major Melville, 'to
communicate with such of your troop as were recruited upon
Waverley-Honour?'

'Certainly; the poor fellows, finding themselves in a regiment
chiefly composed of Scotch or Irish, looked up to me in any of
their little distresses, and naturally made their countryman, and
sergeant, their spokesman on such occasions.'

'Sergeant Houghton's influence,' continued the Major, 'extended,
then, particularly over those soldiers who followed you to the
regiment from your uncle's estate?'

'Surely;--but what is that to the present purpose?'

'To that I am just coming, and I beseech your candid reply.  Have
you, since leaving the regiment, held any correspondence, direct
or indirect, with this Sergeant Houghton?'

'I!--I hold correspondence with a man of his rank and situation!
--How, or for what purpose?'

'That you are to explain;--but did you not, for example, send to
him for some books?'

'You remind me of a trifling commission,' said Waverley, 'which I
gave Sergeant Houghton, because my servant could not read.  I do
recollect I bade him, by letter, select some books, of which I
sent him a list, and send them to me at Tully-Veolan.'

'And of what description were those books?'

'They related almost entirely to elegant literature; they were
designed for a lady's perusal.'

'Were there not, Mr. Waverley, treasonable tracts and pamphlets
among them?'

'There were some political treatises, into which I hardly looked.
They had been sent to me by the officiousness of a kind friend,
whose heart is more to be esteemed than his prudence or political
sagacity; they seemed to be dull compositions.'

'That friend,' continued the persevering inquirer, 'was a Mr.
Pembroke, a nonjuring clergyman, the author of two treasonable
works, of which the manuscripts were found among your baggage?'

'But of which, I give you my honour as a gentleman,' replied
Waverley, 'I never read six pages.'

'I am not your judge, Mr. Waverley; your examination will be
transmitted elsewhere.  And now to proceed--Do you know a person
that passes by the name of Wily Will, or Will Ruthven?'

'I never heard of such a name till this moment.'

'Did you never, through such a person, or any other person,
communicate with Sergeant Humphry Houghton, instigating him to
desert, with as many of his comrades as he could seduce to join
him, and unite with the Highlanders and other rebels now in arms
under the command of the young Pretender?'

'I assure you I am not only entirely guiltless of the plot you
have laid to my charge, but I detest it from the very bottom of
my soul, nor would I be guilty of such treachery to gain a
throne, either for myself or any other man alive.'

'Yet when I consider this envelope, in the handwriting of one of
those misguided gentlemen who are now in arms against their
country, and the verses which it enclosed, I cannot but find some
analogy between the enterprise I have mentioned and the exploit
of Wogan, which the writer seems to expect you should imitate.'

Waverley was struck with the coincidence, but denied that the
wishes or expectations of the letter-writer were to be regarded
as proofs of a charge otherwise chimerical.

'But, if I am rightly informed, your time was spent, during your
absence from the regiment, between the house of this Highland
Chieftain, and that of Mr. Bradwardine of Bradwardine, also in
arms for this unfortunate cause?'

'I do not mean to disguise it; but I do deny, most resolutely,
being privy to any of their designs against the Government.'

'You do not, however, I presume, intend to deny, that you
attended your host Glennaquoich to a rendezvous, where, under a
pretence of a general hunting-match, most of the accomplices of
his treason were assembled to concert measures for taking arms?'

'I acknowledge having been at such a meeting,' said Waverley;
'but I neither heard nor saw anything which could give it the
character you affix to it.'

'From thence you proceeded,' continued the magistrate, 'with
Glennaquoich and a part of his clan, to join the army of the
young Pretender, and returned, after having paid your homage to
him, to discipline and arm the remainder, and unite them to his
bands on their way southward?'

'I never went with Glennaquoich on such an errand.  I never so
much as heard that the person whom you mention was in the
country.'

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 symptoms which indicated a disposition
in the Highlanders to take arms; but added, that having no
inclination to join their cause, and no longer any reason for
remaining in Scotland, he was now on his return to his native
country, to which he had been summoned by those who had a right
to direct his motions, as Major Melville would perceive from the
letters on the table.

Major Melville accordingly perused the letters of Richard
Waverley, of Sir Everard, and of Aunt Rachel; but the inferences
he drew from them were different from what Waverley expected.
They held the language of discontent with Government, threw out
no obscure hints of revenge; and that of poor Aunt Rachel, which
plainly asserted the justice of the Stuart cause, was held to
contain the open avowal of what the others only ventured to
insinuate.

'Permit me another question, Mr. Waverley,' said Major Melville.
'Did you not receive repeated letters from your 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 among your soldiers?'

'I never did, Major Melville.  One letter, indeed, I received
from him, containing a civil intimation of his wish that I would
employ my leave of absence otherwise than in constant residence
at Bradwardine, as to which, I own, I thought he was not called
on to interfere; and, finally, I received, on the same day on
which I observed myself superseded in the Gazette, a second
letter from Colonel Gardiner, commanding me to join the
regiment,--an order which, owing to my absence, already mentioned
and accounted for, I received too late to be obeyed.  If there
were any intermediate letters--and certainly, from the Colonel's
high character, I think it probable that there were--they have
never reached me.'

'I have omitted, Mr. Waverley,' continued Major Melville, 'to
inquire after a matter of less consequence, but which has
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 commission,
suffered the task of resenting it to devolve upon another
gentleman of the company.  This, sir, cannot be charged against
you in a court of justice; but if, as I am informed, the officers
of your regiment requested an explanation of such a rumour, as a
gentleman and soldier, I cannot but be surprised that you did not
afford it to them.'

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 honour for lost, and, leaning his head upon his
hand, resolutely refused to answer any further questions, since
the fair and candid statement he had already made had only served
to furnish arms against him.

Without expressing either surprise or displeasure at the change
in Waverley's manner, Major Melville proceeded composedly to put
several other queries to him.  'What does it avail me to answer
you?'  said Edward, sullenly.  'You appear convinced of my guilt,
and wrest every reply I have made to support your own
preconceived opinion.  Enjoy your supposed triumph, then, and
torment me no further.  If I am capable of the cowardice and
treachery your charge burdens me with, I am not worthy to be
believed in any reply I can make to you.  If I am not deserving
of your suspicion--and God and my own conscience bear evidence
with me that it is so--then I do not see why I should, by my
candour, lend my accusers arms against my innocence.  There is no
reason I should answer a word more, and I am determined to abide
by this resolution.'  And again he resumed his posture of sullen
and determined silence.

'Allow me,' said the magistrate, 'to remind you of one reason
that may suggest the propriety of a candid and open confession.
The inexperience of youth, Mr. Waverley, lays it open to the
plans of the more designing and artful; and one of your friends
at least--I mean Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich--ranks high in the
latter class, as, from your apparent ingenuousness, youth, and
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 willingly act as
intercessor.  But as you must necessarily be acquainted with the
strength of the individuals in this country who have assumed
arms, with their means, and with their plans, I must expect you
will merit this mediation on my part by a frank and candid avowal
of all that has come to your knowledge upon these heads.  In
which case, I think I can venture to promise that a very short
personal restraint will be the only ill consequence 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 hitherto answered your questions with candour,
or declined them with temper, because their import concerned
myself alone; but as you presume to esteem me mean enough to
commence informer against others, who received me, whatever may
be their public misconduct, as a guest and friend,--I declare to
you that I consider your questions as an insult infinitely more
offensive than your calumnious suspicions; and that, since my
hard fortune permits me no other mode of resenting them than by
verbal defiance, you should sooner have my heart out of my bosom,
than a single syllable of information on subjects which I could
only become acquainted with in the full confidence of
unsuspecting hospitality.'

Mr. Morton and the Major looked at each other; and the former,
who, in the course of the examination, had been repeatedly
troubled with a sorry rheum, had recourse to his snuff-box and
his handkerchief.

'Mr. Waverley,' said the Major, 'my present situation prohibits
me alike from giving or receiving offence, and I will not
protract a discussion which approaches to either.  I am afraid I
must sign a warrant for detaining you in custody, but this house
shall for the present be your prison.  I fear I cannot persuade
you to accept a share of our supper?--(Edward shook his head)--
but I will order refreshments in your apartment.

Our hero bowed and withdrew, under guard of the officers of
justice, to a small but handsome room, where, declining all
offers of food or wine, he flung himself on the bed, and,
stupefied by the harassing events and mental fatigue of this
miserable day, he sank into a deep and heavy slumber.  This was
more than he himself could have expected; but it is mentioned of
the North American Indians, when at the stake of torture, that on
the least intermission of agony, they will sleep until the fire
is applied to awaken them.



CHAPTER XXXII

A CONFERENCE, AND THE CONSEQUENCE

Major Melville had detained Mr. Morton during his examination of
Waverley, both because he thought he might derive assistance from
his practical good sense and approved loyalty, and also because
it was agreeable to have a witness of unimpeached candour and
veracity to proceedings which touched the honour and safety of a
young Englishman of high rank and family, and the expectant heir
of a large fortune.  Every step he knew would be rigorously
canvassed, and it was his business to place the justice and
integrity of his own conduct beyond the limits of question.

When Waverley retired, the laird and clergyman of Cairnvreckan
sat down in silence to their evening meal.  While the servants
were in attendance, neither chose to say anything on the
circumstances which occupied their minds, and neither felt it
easy to speak upon any other.  The youth and apparent frankness
of Waverley stood in strong contrast to the shades of suspicion
which darkened around him, and he had a sort of NAIVETE and
openness of demeanour, that seemed to belong to one unhackneyed
in the ways of intrigue, and which pleaded highly in his favour.

Each mused over the particulars of the examination, and each
viewed it through the medium of his own feelings.  Both were men
of ready and acute talent, and both were equally competent to
combine various parts of evidence, and to deduce from them the
necessary conclusions.  But the wide difference of their habits
and education often occasioned a great discrepancy in their
respective deductions from admitted premises.

Major Melville had been versed in camps and cities; he was
vigilant by profession, and cautious from experience; had met
with much evil in the world, and therefore, though himself an
upright magistrate and an honourable man, his opinions of others
were always strict, and sometimes unjustly severe.  Mr. Morton,
on the contrary, had passed from the literary pursuits of a
college, where he was beloved by his companions, and respected by
his teachers, to the ease and simplicity of his present charge,
where his opportunities of witnessing evil were few, and never
dwelt upon but in order to encourage repentance and amendment;
and where the love and respect of his parishioners repaid his
affectionate zeal in their behalf, by endeavouring to disguise
from him what they knew would give him the most acute pain,
namely, their own occasional transgressions of the duties which
it was the business of his life to recommend.  Thus it was a
common saying in the neighbourhood (though both wore 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 a disposition naturally mild and
contemplative.  His feelings on the present occasion were
therefore likely to differ from those of the severe
disciplinarian, strict magistrate, and distrustful man of the
world.

When the servants had withdrawn, the silence of both parties
continued, until Major Melville, filling his glass, and pushing
the bottle to Mr. Morton, commenced.  'A distressing affair this,
Mr. Morton.  I fear this youngster has brought himself within the
compass of a halter.'

'God forbid!'  answered the clergyman.

'Marry, and amen,' said the temporal magistrate; 'but I think
even your merciful logic will hardly deny the conclusion.'

'Surely, Major,' answered the clergyman, 'I should hope it might
be averted, for aught we have heard to-night?'

'Indeed!'  replied Melville.  'But, my good parson, you are one
of those who would communicate to every criminal the benefit of
clergy.'

'Unquestionably I would: mercy and long-suffering are the grounds
of the doctrine I am called to teach.'

'True, religiously speaking; but mercy to a criminal may be gross
injustice to the community.  I don't speak of this young fellow
in particular, who I heartily wish may be able to clear himself,
for I like both his modesty and his spirit.  But I fear he has
rushed upon his fate.'

'And why?  Hundreds of misguided gentlemen are now in arms
against the Government; many, doubtless, upon principles which
education and early prejudice have gilded with the names of
patriotism and heroism;--Justice, when she selects her victims
from such a multitude (for surely all will not be destroyed),
must regard the moral motive.  He whom ambition, or hope of
personal advantage, has led to disturb the peace of a well-
ordered government, let him fall a victim to the laws; but surely
youth, misled by the wild visions of chivalry and imaginary
loyalty, may plead for pardon.'

'If visionary chivalry and imaginary loyalty come within the
predicament of high treason,' replied the magistrate, 'I know no
court in 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 established
to my satisfaction,' said the clergyman.

'Because your good nature blinds your good sense,' replied Major
Melville.  'Observe now: this young man, descended of a family of
hereditary Jacobites, his uncle the leader of the Tory interest
in the county of --, his father a disobliged and discontented
courtier, his tutor a nonjuror, and the author of two treasonable
volumes--this youth, I say, enters into Gardiner's dragoons,
bringing with him a body-of young fellows from his uncle's
estate, who have not stickled at avowing, in their way, the High
Church principles they learned at Waverley-Honour, in their
disputes with their comrades.  To these young men Waverley is
unusually attentive; they are supplied with money beyond a
soldier's wants, and inconsistent with his discipline; and are
under the management of a favourite sergeant, through whom they
hold an unusually close communication with their captain, and
affect to consider themselves as independent of the other
officers, and superior to their comrades.'

'All this, my dear Major, is the natural consequence of their
attachment to their young landlord, and of their finding
themselves in a regiment levied chiefly in the north of Ireland
and the west of Scotland, and of course among comrades disposed
to quarrel with them, both as Englishmen, and as members of the
Church of England.'

'Well said, parson!'  replied the magistrate.--'I would some of
your synod heard you.--But let me go on.  This young man obtains
leave of absence, goes to Tully-Veolan--the principles of the
Baron of Bradwardine are pretty well known, not to mention that
this lad's uncle brought him off in the year fifteen; he engages
there in a brawl, in which he is said to have disgraced the
commission he bore; Colonel Gardiner writes to him, first mildly,
then more sharply--I think you will not doubt his having done so,
since he says so; the mess invite him to explain the quarrel in
which he is said to have been involved; he neither replies to his
commander nor his comrades.  In the meanwhile, his soldiers
become mutinous and disorderly, and at length, when the rumour of
this unhappy rebellion becomes general, his favourite Sergeant
Houghton, and another fellow, are detected in correspondence with
a French emissary, accredited, as he says, by Captain Waverley,
who urges him, according to the men's confession, to desert with
the troop and join their captain, who was with Prince Charles.
In the meanwhile this trusty captain is, by his own admission,
residing at Glennaquoich 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 round him.
He returns an absolute refusal, and throws up his commission.'

'He had been already deprived of it,' said Mr. Morton.

'But he regrets,' replied Melville, '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
pestilent jacobitical pamphlets, enough to poison a whole
country, besides the unprinted lucubrations of his worthy friend
and tutor Mr. Pembroke.

'He says he never read them,' answered the minister.

'In an ordinary case I should believe him,' replied the
magistrate, 'for they are as stupid and pedantic in composition,
as mischievous in their tenets.  But can you suppose anything but
value for the principles they maintain would induce a young man
of his age to lug such trash about with him?  Then, when news
arrive of the approach of the rebels, he sets out in a sort of
disguise, refusing to tell his name; and, if yon old fanatic tell
truth, attended by a very suspicious character, and mounted on a
horse known to have belonged to Glennaquoich, and bearing on his
person letters from his family expressing high rancour against
the house of Brunswick, and a copy of verses in praise of one
Wogan, who abjured the service of the Parliament to join the
Highland insurgents, when in arms to restore the house of Stuart,
with a body of English cavalry the very counterpart of his own
plot--and summed up with a "Go thou and do likewise," from that
loyal subject, and most safe and peaceable character, Fergus Mac-
Ivor of Glennaquoich, Vich Ian Vohr, and so forth.  And, lastly,'
continued Major Melville, warming in the detail of his arguments,
'where do we find this second edition of Cavalier Wogan?  Why,
truly, in the very track most proper for execution of his design,
and pistolling the first of the king's subjects who ventures to
question his intentions.'

Mr. Morton prudently abstained from argument, which be perceived
would only harden the magistrate in his opinion, and merely asked
how he intended to dispose of the prisoner?

'It is a question of some difficulty, considering the state of
the country,' said Major Melville.

'Could you not detain him (being such a gentleman-like young man)
here in your own house, out of harm's way, till this storm blow
over?'

'My good friend,' said Major Melville, 'neither your house nor
mine will be long out of harm's way, even were it legal to
confine him here.  I have just learned that the commander-in-
chief, who marched into the Highlands to seek out and disperse
the insurgents, has declined giving them battle at Corryerick,
and marched on northward with all the disposable force of
Government to Inverness, John-o'-Groat's House, or the devil, for
what I know, leaving the road to the Low Country open and
undefended to the Highland army.'

'Good God!'  said the clergyman.  'Is the man a coward, a
traitor, or an idiot?'

'None of the three, I believe,' answered Melville.  'Sir John has
the commonplace 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 overawe the disaffected
districts, They are now recalled towards Stirling, and a small
body comes this way to-morrow or next day, commanded by the
westland man,--what's his name?--You saw him, and said he was the
very model of one of Cromwell's military saints,'

Gilfillan, the Cameronian,' answered Mr. Morton.  'I wish the
young gentleman may be safe with him.  Strange things are done in
the heat and hurry of minds in so agitating a crisis, and I fear
Gilfillan is of a sect which has suffered persecution without
learning mercy.'

'He has only to lodge Mr. Waverley in Stirling Castle,' said the
Major: 'I will give strict injunctions to treat him well.  I
really cannot devise any better mode for securing him, and I
fancy you would hardly advise me to encounter the responsibility
of setting him at liberty.'

'But you will have no objection to my seeing him tomorrow in
private?'  said the minister.

'None, certainly; your loyalty and character are my warrant.  But
with what view do you make the request?'

'Simply,' replied Mr. Morton, 'to make the experiment whether he
may not be brought to communicate to me some circumstances which
may hereafter be useful to alleviate, if 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 XXXIII

A CONFIDANT

Waverley awoke in the morning, from troubled dreams and
unrefreshing slumbers, to a full consciousness of the horrors of
his situation.  How it might terminate he knew not.  He might be
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
justice, where he knew the laws and forms differed in many
respects from those of England, and had been taught to believe,
however erroneously, that the liberty and rights of the subject
were less carefully protected.  A sentiment of bitterness rose in
his mind against the Government, which he considered as the cause
of his embarrassment and peril, and he cursed internally his
scrupulous rejection of Mac-Ivor's invitation to accompany him to
the field.

'Why did not I,' he said to himself, 'like other men of honour,
take the earliest opportunity to welcome to Britain the
descendant of her ancient kings, and lineal heir of her throne?
Why did not I

  Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,
  And welcome home again discarded faith,
  Seek out Prince Charles, and fall 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 interpretation which this Scotch magistrate
has put upon the letters of my uncle and father, it is plain that
I ought to have understood them as marshalling me to the course
of my ancestors; and it has been my gross dullness, joined to the
obscurity of expression which they adopted for the sake of
security, that has confounded my judgement.  Had I yielded to the
first generous impulse of indignation when I learned that my
honour was practised upon, how different had been my present
situation!  I had then been free and in arms, fighting, like my
forefathers, for love, for loyalty, and for fame.  And now I am
here, netted and in the toils, at the disposal of a suspicious,
stern, and cold-hearted man, perhaps to be turned over to the
solitude of a dungeon, or the infamy of a public execution.  O
Fergus!  how true has your prophecy proved; and how speedy, how
very speedy, has been its accomplishment!'

While Edward was ruminating on these painful subjects of
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; but he
suppressed it upon observing the benevolent and reverend
appearance of the clergyman who had rescued him from the
immediate violence of the villagers.

'I believe, sir,' said the unfortunate young man, 'that in any
other circumstances I should have had as much gratitude to
express to you as the safety of my life may be worth; but such is
the present tumult of my mind, and such is my anticipation of
what I am yet likely to endure, that I can hardly offer you
thanks for your interposition.'

Mr. Morton replied, that, far from making any claim upon his good
opinion, his only wish and the sole purpose of his visit was to
find out the means of deserving it.  'My excellent friend, Major
Melville,' he continued, 'has feelings and duties as a soldier
and public functionary, by which I am not fettered; nor can I
always coincide in opinions which he forms, perhaps with too
little allowance for the imperfections of human nature.  He
paused, and then proceeded:  'I do not intrude myself on your
confidence, Mr. Waverley, for the purpose of learning any
circumstances, the knowledge of which can be prejudicial either
to yourself or to others; but I own my earnest wish is, that you
would entrust me with any particulars which could lead to your
exculpation.  I can solemnly assure you they will be deposited
with a faithful, and, to the extent of his limited powers, a
zealous agent.'

'You are, sir, I presume, a Presbyterian clergyman?'--Mr. Morton
bowed.--'Were I to be guided by the prepossessions of education,
I might distrust your friendly professions in my case; but I have
observed that similar prejudices are nourished in this country
against your professional brethren of the Episcopal persuasion,
and I am willing to believe them equally unfounded in both
cases.'

'Evil to him that thinks otherwise,' said Mr. Morton; 'or who
holds church government and ceremonies as the exclusive gage of
Christian faith or moral virtue.'

'But,' continued Waverley, 'I cannot perceive why I should
trouble you with a detail of particulars, out of which, after
revolving them as carefully as possible in my recollection, 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 myself so.'

'It is for that very reason, Mr. Waverley,' said the clergyman,
'that I venture to solicit your confidence.  My knowledge of
individuals in this country is pretty general, and can upon
occasion be extended.  Your situation will, I fear, preclude you
taking those active steps for recovering intelligence, or tracing
imposture, which I would willingly undertake in your behalf; and
if you are not benefited by my exertions, at least they cannot be
prejudicial to you.'

Waverley, after a few minutes' reflection, was convinced that his
reposing confidence in Mr. Morton, so far as he himself was
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 therefore ran
briefly over most of the events with which the reader is already
acquainted, suppressing his attachment to Flora, and indeed
neither mentioning her nor Rose Bradwardine in the course of his
narrative.

Mr. Morton seemed particularly struck with the account of
Waverley's visit to Donald Bean Lean.  'I am glad,' he said, 'you
did not mention this circumstance to the Major.  It is capable of
great misconstruction on the part; of those who do not consider
the power of curiosity and the influence of romance as motives of
youthful conduct.  When I was a young man like you, Mr. Waverley,
any such hair-brained expedition (I beg your pardon for the
expression) would have had inexpressible charms for me.  But
there are men in the world who will not believe that danger and
fatigue are often incurred without any very adequate cause, and
therefore who are sometimes led to assign motives of action
entirely foreign to the truth.  This man Bean Lean is renowned
through the country as a sort of Robin Hood, and the stories
which are told of his address and enterprise are the common tales
of the winter fireside.  He certainly possesses talents beyond
the rude sphere in which he moves; and, being neither destitute
of ambition nor encumbered with scruples, he will probably
attempt, by every means, to distinguish himself during the period
of these unhappy commotions.'  Mr. Morton then made a careful
memorandum of the various particulars of Waverley's interview
with Donald Bean Lean, and the other circumstances which he had
communicated.

The interest which this good man seemed to take in his
misfortunes,--above all, the full confidence he appeared to
repose in his innocence,--had the natural effect of softening
Edward's heart, whom the coldness of Major Melville had taught to
believe that the world was leagued to oppress him.  He shook Mr.
Morton warmly by the hand, and assuring him that his kindness and
sympathy had 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 I am well
pleased for your sake, for the governor is a man of honour and
humanity.  But I am more doubtful of your treatment upon the
road; Major Melville is involuntarily obliged to entrust the
custody of your person to another.'

'I am glad of it,' answered Waverley.  'I detest that cold-
blooded calculating Scotch magistrate.  I hope he and I shall
never meet more:  he had neither sympathy with my innocence nor
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 Inquisition.  Do not vindicate him, my dear
sir, for that I cannot bear with patience; tell me rather who is
to have the charge of so important a state prisoner as I am.'

'I believe a person called Gilfillan, one of the sect who are
termed Cameronians.'

'I never heard of them before.'

'They claim,' said the clergyman, 'to represent the more strict
and severe Presbyterians, who in Charles Second's and James
Second's days, refused to profit by the Toleration, or
Indulgence, as it was called, which was extended to others of
that religion.  They held conventicles in the open fields, and
being treated, with great violence and cruelty by the Scottish
government, more than once took arms during those reigns.  They
take their name from their leader, Richard Cameron.

'I recollect,' said Waverley; 'but did not the triumph of
Presbytery at the Revolution extinguish that sect?'

'By no means,' replied Morton; 'that great event fell yet far
short of what they proposed, which was nothing less than the
complete establishment of the Presbyterian Church, upon the
grounds of the old Solemn League and Covenant.  Indeed, I believe
they scarce knew what they wanted; but being a numerous body of
men, and not unacquainted with the use of arms, they kept
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 towards Stirling, under whose escort Major Melville
proposes you shall travel.  I would willingly speak to Gilfillan
in your behalf; but, having deeply imbibed all the prejudices of
his sect, and being of the same fierce disposition, he would pay
little regard to the remonstrances of an Erastian divine, as he
would politely term me.--And now, farewell, my young friend; for
the present, I must not weary out the Major's indulgence, that I
may obtain his permission to visit you again in the course of the
day.'



CHAPTER XXXIV

THINGS MEND A LITTLE

About noon, Mr. Morton returned, and brought an invitation from
Major Melville that Mr. Waverley would honour him with his
company to dinner, notwithstanding the unpleasant affair which
detained him at Cairnvreckan, from which he should heartily
rejoice to see Mr. Waverley completely extricated.  The truth
was, that Mr. Morton's favourable report and opinion had somewhat
staggered the preconceptions of the old soldier concerning
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 indeed, but certainly not dishonour.
Besides, a person whom the Major trusted had reported to him
(though, as it proved, inaccurately) a contradiction of the
agitating news of the preceding evening.  According to this
second edition of the 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
reconcile his information with the well-known abilities of some
of the gentlemen in the Highland army, yet it was the course
which was likely to be most agreeable to others.  He remembered
the same policy had detained them in the north in the year 1715,
and he anticipated a similar termination to the insurrection as
upon that occasion.

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
affair would prove a youthful escapade, which might be easily
atoned by a short confinement.  The kind mediator had some
trouble to prevail on his young friend to accept the invitation.
He dared not urge to him the real motive, which was a good-
natured wish to secure a favourable report of Waverley's case
from Major Melville to Governor Blakeney.  He remarked, from the
flashes of our hero's spirit, that touching upon this topic would
be sure to defeat his purpose.  He therefore pleaded, that the
invitation argued the Major's disbelief of any part of the
accusation which was inconsistent with Waverley's conduct as a
soldier and a man of honour, and that to decline his courtesy
might be interpreted into a consciousness that it was unmerited.
In short, he so far satisfied Edward that the manly and proper
course was to meet the Major on easy terms, that, suppressing his
strong dislike again to encounter his cold and punctilious
civility, Waverley agreed to be guided by his new friend.  The
meeting, at first, was stiff and formal enough.  But Edward,
having accepted the invitation, and his mind being really soothed
and relieved by the kindness of Morton, held himself bound to
behave with ease, though he could not affect cordiality.  The
Major was somewhat of a BON VIVANT, and his wine was excellent.
He told his old campaign stories, and displayed much knowledge of
men and manners.  Mr. Morton had an internal fund of placid and
quiet gaiety, which seldom failed to enliven any small party in
which he found himself pleasantly seated.  Waverley, whose life
was a dream, gave ready way to the predominating impulse, and
became the most lively of the party.  He had at all times
remarkable 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
pressing a third bottle of Burgundy, when the sound of a drum was
heard at some distance.  The Major, who, in the glee of an old
soldier, had forgot the duties of a magistrate, cursed, with a
muttered military oath, the circumstances which recalled him to
his official functions.  He rose and went towards the window,
which commanded a very near view of the high-road, and he was
followed by his guests.

The drum advanced, beating no measured martial tune, but a kind
of rub-a-dub-dub, like that with which the fire-drum startles the
slumbering artisans of a Scotch burgh.  It is the object of this
history to do justice to all men; I must therefore record, in
justice to the drummer, that he protested he could beat any known
march or point of war known in the British army, and had
accordingly commenced with 'Dumbarton's Drums,' when he was
silenced by Gifted Gilfillan, the commander of the party, who
refused to permit his followers to move to this profane, and
even, as he said, persecuting tune, and commanded the drummer to
beat the 119th Psalm.  As this was beyond the capacity of the
drubber of sheepskin, he was fain to have recourse to the
inoffensive row-de-dow, as a harmless substitute for the sacred
music which his instrument or skill were unable to achieve.  This
may be held a trifling anecdote, but the drummer in question was
no less than town-drummer of Anderton.  I remember his successor
in office, a member of that enlightened body, the British
Convention:  be his memory, therefore, treated with due respect.



CHAPTER XXXV

A VOLUNTEER SIXTY YEARS SINCE

On hearing the unwelcome sound of the drum, Major Melville
hastily opened a sashed door, and stepped out upon a sort of
terrace which divided his house from the high-road from which the
martial music proceeded.  Waverley and his new friend followed
him, though probably he would have dispensed with their
attendance.  They soon recognized in solemn march, first, the
performer upon the drum; secondly, a large flag of four
compartments, on which were inscribed the words COVENANTS,
RELIGION, KING, KINGDOMES.  The person 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 religious zeal was the ruling principle.  A martyr
at the stake, a soldier in the field, a lonely and banished
wanderer consoled by the intensity and supposed purity of his
faith under every earthly privation; perhaps a persecuting
inquisitor, as terrible in power as unyielding in adversity; any
of these seemed congenial characters to this personage.  With
these high traits of energy, there was something in the affected
precision and solemnity of his deportment and discourse, that
bordered upon the ludicrous; so that, according to the mood of
the spectator's mind, and the light under which Mr. Gilfillan
presented himself, one might have feared; admired, or laughed at
him.  His dress was that of a west-country peasant, of better
materials indeed than that of the lower rank, but in no respect
affecting either the mode of the age, or of the Scottish gentry
at any period.  His arms were a broadsword and pistols, which,
from the antiquity of their appearance, might have seen the rout
of Pentland, or Bothwell Brigg.

As he came up a few steps to meet Major Melville, and touched
solemnly, but slightly, his huge and overbrimmed blue bonnet, in
answer to the Major, who had courteously raised a small
triangular gold-laced hat, Waverley was irresistibly impressed
with the idea that he beheld a leader of the Roundheads of yore
in conference with one of Marlborough's captains.

The group of about thirty armed men who followed this gifted
commander, was of a motley description.  They were in ordinary
Lowland dresses, of different colours, which, contrasted with the
arms they bore, gave them an irregular and mobbish appearance; so
much is the eye accustomed to connect uniformity of dress with
the military character.  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 religious
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 limbs
listlessly along, or straggled 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 experience,
would have sent all these fellows to the right about.

Greeting, however, Mr. Gilfillan civilly, he requested to know if
he had received the letter he had sent to him upon his march, and
could undertake the charge of the state prisoner whom he there
mentioned, as far as Stirling Castle.  'Yea,' was the concise
reply of the Cameronian leader, in a voice which seemed to issue
from the very PENETRALIA of his person.

'But your escort, Mr. Gilfillan, is not so strong as I expected,'
said Major Melville,

'Some of the people,' replied Gilfillan, 'hungered and were
athirst by the way, and tarried until their poor souls were
refreshed with the word.'

'I am sorry, sir,' replied the Major, 'you did not trust to your
refreshing your men at Cairnvreckan; whatever my house contains
is at the command of 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; 'howbeit, I thank you; but the people remained
waiting upon the precious Mr. Jabesh Rentowel, for the outpouring
of the afternoon exhortation.'

'And have you, sir,' said the Major, 'when the rebels are about
to spread themselves through this country, actually left a great
part of your command at a field-preaching!'

Gilfillan again smiled scornfully as he made this indirect
answer,--'Even thus are the children of this world wiser in their
generation than the children of light!'

'However, sir,' said the Major, 'as you are to take charge of
this gentleman to Stirling, and deliver him, with these papers,
into the hands of Governor Blakeney, I beseech you to observe
some rules of military discipline upon your march.  For example,
I would advise you to keep your men more closely together, and
that each, in his march, should cover his file-leader, instead of
straggling like geese upon a common; and, for fear of surprise, I
further recommend to you to form a small advance-party of your
best men, with a single vidette in front of the whole march, so
that when you approach a village or a wood'--(Here the Major
interrupted himself)--'But as I don't observe you listen 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 pursued; but one
thing I would have you well aware of, that you are to treat this
gentleman, your prisoner, with no rigour nor incivility, and are
to subject him to no other restraint than is necessary for his
security.'

'I have looked into my commission,' said Mr. Gilfillan,
subscribed by a worthy and professing nobleman, William, Earl of
Glencairn; nor do I find it therein set down that I am to receive
any charges or commands anent my doings from Major William
Melville of Cairnvreckan.'

Major Melville reddened even to the well-powdered ears which
appeared beneath his neat military side-curls, the more so, as he
observed Mr. Morton smile at the same moment.  'Mr. Gilfillan,'
he answered with some asperity, 'I beg ten thousand pardons for
interfering with a person of your importance.  I thought,
however, that as you have been bred a grazier, if I mistake not,
there might be occasion to remind you of the difference 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.  Morton also took an
affectionate farewell; and Waverley, having mounted his horse,
with a musketeer leading it by the bridle, and a file upon each
side to prevent his escape, set forward upon the march with
Gilfillan and his party.  Through the little village they were
accompanied with the shouts of the children, who cried out, 'Eh!
see to the Southland gentleman, that's gaun to be hanged for
shooting lang John Mucklewrath the smith!'



CHAPTER XXXVI

AN INCIDENT

The dinner-hour of Scotland Sixty Years since was two o'clock.
It was therefore about four o'clock of a delightful autumn
afternoon that Mr. Gilfillan commenced his march, in hopes,
although Stirling was eighteen miles distant, he might be able,
by becoming a borrower of the night for an hour or two, to reach
it that evening.  He therefore put forth his strength, and
marched stoutly along at the head of his followers, eyeing our
hero from time to time, as if he longed to enter into controversy
with him.  At length unable to resist the temptation, he
slackened his pace till he was alongside of his prisoner's horse,
and after marching a few steps in silence abreast of him, he
suddenly asked,--'Can ye say wha the carle was wi' the black
coat; and the mousted head, that was wi' the Laird of
Cairnvreckan?'

'A Presbyterian clergyman,' answered Waverley.

'Presbyterian!'  answered Gilfillan contemptuously:  'a wretched
Erastian, or rather an obscured Prelatist,--a favourer of the
black Indulgence; ane of thae dumb dogs that canna bark:  they
tell ower a clash o' terror and a clatter o' comfort in their
sermons, without ony sense, or savour, or life.--Ye've been fed
in siccan a fauld, belike?'

'No; I am of the Church of England,' said Waverley.

And they're just neighbour-like,' replied the Covenanter; 'and
nae wonder they gree sae weel.  Wha wad hae thought the goodly
structure of the Kirk of Scotland, built up by our fathers in
1642, wad hae been defaced by carnal ends and, the corruptions of
the time;--aye, wha wad hae thought the carved work of the
sanctuary would hae been sae soon cut down!'

To this lamentation, which one or two of the assistants chorussed
with a deep groan, our hero thought it unnecessary to make any
reply.  Whereupon Mr. Gilfillan, resolving that he should be a
hearer at least, if not a disputant, proceeded in his Jeremiad.

'And now is it wonderful, when, for lack of exercise anent the
call to the service of the altar and the duty of the day,
ministers fall into sinful compliances with patronage, and
indemnities, and oaths, and bonds, and, other corruptions,--is it
wonderful, I say, that you, sir, and other sic-like unhappy
persons, should labour to build up your auld Babel of iniquity,
as in the bluidy persecuting saint-killing times?  I trow, gin ya
werena blinded wi' the graces and favours, and services and
enjoyments, and employments and inheritances, of this wicked
world, I could prove to you, by the Scripture, in what a filthy
rag ye put your trust; and that your surplices, and your copes
and vestments, are but cast-off-garments of the muckle harlot,
that sitteth upon seven hills, and drinketh of the cup of
abomination.  But, I trow, ye are deaf as adders upon that side
of the head; aye, ye are deceived with her enchantments, and ye
traffic with her merchandise, and ye are drunk with the cup of
her fornication!'

How much longer this military theologist might have continued his
invective, in which he spared nobody but the scattered remnant 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 his exhortation till
the party had reached Stirling, had not his attention been
attracted by a pedlar who had joined the march from a cross-road,
and who sighed or groaned with great regularity at all fitting
pauses of his homily.

'And what may ya be, friend?'  said the Gifted Gilfillan.

'A puir pedler, 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 searching and explaining the
secret,--aye, the secret and obscure and incomprehensible causes
of the backslidings of the land; aye, 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
cottars 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
merk, have had the blessing of increase, but the pride of heart
has not increased with them; nor do I delight to be called
captain, though I have the subscribed commission of that gospel-
searching nobleman, the Earl of Glencairn, in whilk I 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 lines have fallen in pleasant places!--And
siccan a breed o' cattle is not in ony laird's land in Scotland.'

'Ye say right,--ye say right, friend,' retorted Gilfillan
eagerly, for he was not inaccessible to flattery upon this
subject,--'ye say right; they are the real Lancashire, and
there's no the like o' them even at the Mains of Kilmaurs;' and
he then entered into a discussion of their excellences, to which
our readers will probably be as indifferent as our hero.  After
this excursion, the leader returned to his theological
discussions, while the pedlar, less profound upon those mystic
points, contented himself with groaning, and expressing his
edification at suitable intervals.

'What a blessing it would be to the puir blinded popish nations
among whom I hae sojourned, to have siccan a light to their
paths!  I hae been as far as Muscovia in my sma' trading way, as
a travelling merchant; and I hae been through France, and the Low
Countries, and a' Poland, and maist feck o' Germany; and oh!  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 Whiggamore's Raid,
and the Assembly of Divines at Westminster, and the Longer and
Shorter Catechism, and the Excommunication at Torwood, and the
slaughter of Archbishop Sharp.  This last topic, again, led him
into the lawfulness of defensive arms, on which subject he
uttered much more sense than could have been expected from some
other parts of his harangue, and attracted even Waverley's
attention, who had hitherto been lost in his own sad reflections.
Mr. Gilfillan then considered the lawfulness of a private man's
standing forth as the avenger of public oppression, and as he was
labouring with great earnestness the cause of Mas James Mitchell,
who fired at the Archbishop of St. Andrews some years before the
prelate's assassination on Magus Muir, 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 somewhat 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 little dingles of stunted
brushwood.  A thicket of the latter description crowned the hill
up which the party ascended.  The foremost of the band, being the
stoutest and most active, had pushed on, and having surmounted
the ascent, were out of ken for the present.  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 offence to the rigour of his companion, the rather because
it appeared to indicate inattention to the treasures of
theological and controversial knowledge which was pouring out for
his edification.  He therefore signified gruffly, that he could
not waste his time in waiting for a useless cur.

'But if your honour wad 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 likely,' answered the pedlar, with great composure; 'but
ne'ertheless, I shall take leave to whistle again upon puir
Bawty,'

This last signal was answered in an unexpected manner; for six or
eight stout Highlanders, who lurked among the copse and
brushwood, sprang into the hollow way, and began to lay about
them with their claymores.  Gilfillan, un-appalled at this
undesirable apparition, cried out manfully, 'The sword of the
Lord and of Gideon!'  and, drawing his broadsword, would probably
have done as much credit to the good old cause as any of its
doughty 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 instructor
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 Gilfillan'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,
who, 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, who could, however,
distinguish a few dropping shots fired about the spat which he
had left.  This, as he afterwards learned, proceeded from
Gilfillan's party, who had now assembled, the stragglers in front
and rear having joined the others.  At their approach the
Highlanders drew off, but not before they had rifled Gilfillan
and two of his people, who remained on the spot grievously
wounded.  A few shots were exchanged betwixt them and the
Westlanders; but the latter, now without a commander, and
apprehensive of a second ambush, did not make any serious effort
to recover their prisoner, judging it more wise to proceed on
their journey to Stirling, carrying with them their wounded
captain and comrades.



CHAPTER XXXVII

WAVERLEY IS STILL IN DISTRESS

The velocity, and indeed violence, with which Waverley was
hurried along, nearly deprived him of sensation; for the injury
he had received from his fall prevented him from aiding himself
so effectually as he might otherwise have done.  When this was
observed by his conductors, they called to their aid two or three
others of the party, and swathing our hero's body in one of their
plaids, divided his weight by that means among them, and
transported him at the same rapid rate as before, without any
exertion of his own.  They spoke little, and that in Gaelic; and
did not slacken their pace till they had run nearly two miles,
when they abated their extreme rapidity, but continued still to
walk very fast, relieving each other occasionally,

Our hero now endeavoured to address them, but was only answered
with 'CHA N'EIL BEURL' AGAM,' i.e. 'I have no English,' being, as
Waverley well knew, the constant reply of a Highlander, when he
either does not understand, or does not choose to reply to, an
Englishman or Lowlander.  He then mentioned the name of Vich Ian
Vohr, concluding that he was indebted to his friendship for his
rescue from the clutches of Gifted Gilfillan; but neither did
this produce any mark of recognition from his escort.

The twilight had given place to moonshine when the party halted
upon the brink of a precipitous glen, which, as partly
enlightened by the moonbeams, seemed full of trees and tangled
brushwood.  Two of the Highlanders dived into it by a small
footpath, as if to explore its recesses, and one of them
returning in a few minutes, said something to his companions, who
instantly raised their burden, and bore him, with great attention
and care, down the narrow and abrupt descent.  Notwithstanding
their precautions, however, Waverley's person came more than once
into contact, rudely enough, with the projecting stumps and
branches which overhung the pathway.

At the bottom of the descent, and, as it seemed, by the side of a
brook (for Waverley heard the rushing of a considerable body of
water, although its stream was invisible in the darkness), the
party again stopped before a small and rudely-constructed hovel.
The door was open, and the inside of the premises appeared as
uncomfortable and rude as its situation and exterior foreboded.
There was no appearance of a floor of any kind; the roof seemed
rent in several places; the walls were composed of loose stones
and turf, and the thatch of branches of trees.  The fire was in
the centre, and filled the whole wigwam with smoke, which escaped
as much through the door as by means of a circular aperture in
the roof.  An old Highland sibyl, the only inhabitant of this
forlorn mansion, appeared busy in the preparation of some food.
By the light which the fire afforded, Waverley could discover
that his attendants were not of the clan of Ivor, for Fergus was
particularly strict in requiring from his followers that they
should wear the tartan striped in the mode peculiar to their
race; a mark of distinction anciently general through the
Highlands, and still maintained by those chiefs who were proud of
their lineage, or jealous of their separate and exclusive
authority.

Edward had lived at Glennaquoich long enough to be aware of a
distinction which he had repeatedly heard noticed; and now
satisfied that he had no interest with his attendants, he glanced
a disconsolate eye around the interior of the cabin.  The only
furniture, excepting a washing-tub, and a wooden press, called in
Scotland an AMBRY, sorely decayed, was a large wooden bed,
planked, as is usual, all around, and opening by a sliding panel.
In this recess the Highlanders deposited Waverley, after he had
by signs declined any refreshment.  His slumbers were broken and
unrefreshing; strange visions passed before his eyes, and it
required constant and reiterated efforts of mind to dispel them.
Shivering, violent headache, and shooting pains in his limbs,
succeeded these symptoms; and in the morning it was evident to
his Highland attendants or guard, for he knew not in which light
to consider them, that Waverley was quite unfit to travel.  After
a long consultation among themselves, six of the party left the
hut with their arms, leaving behind an old and a young man.  The
former addressed Waverley, and bathed the contusions, which
swelling and livid colour now made conspicuous.  His own
portmanteau, which the Highlanders had not failed to bring off,
supplied him with linen, and, to his great surprise, was, with
all its undiminished contents, freely resigned to his use.  The
bedding of his couch seemed clean and comfortable, and his aged
attendant closed the door of the bed, for it had no curtain,
after a few words of Gaelic, from which Waverley gathered that he
exhorted him to repose.  So behold our hero for a second time the
patient of a Highland Aesculapius, but in a situation much more
uncomfortable than when he was the guest of the worthy Tomanrait.

The symptomatic fever which accompanied the injuries he had
sustained did not abate till the third day, when it gave way to
the care of his attendants and the strength of his constitution,
and he could now raise himself in his bed, though not without
pain.  He observed, however, that there was a great
disinclination, on the part of the old woman who acted as his
nurse, as well as on that of the elderly Highlander, to permit
the door of the bed to be left open, so that he might amuse
himself with observing their motions; and at length, after
Waverley had repeatedly drawn open, and they had as frequently
shut, the hatchway of his cage, the old gentleman put an end to
the contest, by securing it on the outside with a nail, so
effectually that the door could not be drawn till this exterior
impediment was removed.

While musing upon the cause of this contradictory spirit in
persons whose conduct intimated no purpose of plunder, and who,
in all other points, appeared to consult his welfare and his
wishes, it occurred to our hero, that, during the worst crisis of
his illness, a female figure, younger than his old Highland
nurse, had appeared to flit around his couch.  Of this, indeed,
he had but a very indistinct recollection, but his suspicions
were confirmed when, attentively listening, he often heard, in
the course of the day, the voice of another female conversing in
whispers with his attendant.  Who could it be?  And why should
she apparently desire concealment?  Fancy immediately roused
herself, and turned to Flora Mac-Ivor.  But after a short
conflict between his eager desire to believe she was in his
neighbourhood, guarding, like an angel of mercy, the couch of his
sickness, Waverley was compelled to conclude that his conjecture
was altogether improbable; since, to suppose she had left the
comparatively safe situation at Glennaquoich to descend into the
Low Country, now the seat of civil war, and to inhabit such a
lurking-place as this, was a thing hardly to be imagined.  Yet
his heart bounded as he sometimes could distinctly hear the trip
of a light female step glide to or from the door of the hut, or
the suppressed sounds of a female voice, of softness and
delicacy, hold dialogue with the hoarse inward croak of old
Janet, for so he understood his antiquated attendant was
denominated.

Having nothing else to amuse his solitude, he employed himself in
contriving some plan to gratify his curiosity, in spite of the
sedulous caution of Janet and the old Highland janizary, for he
had never seen the young fellow since the first morning.  At
length, upon accurate examination, the infirm state of his wooden
prison-house appeared to supply the means of gratifying his
curiosity, for out of a spot which was somewhat decayed he was
able to extract a nail.  Through this minute aperture he could
perceive a female form, wrapped in a plaid, in the act of
conversing with Janet.  But, since the days of our grandmother
Eve, the gratification of inordinate curiosity has generally
borne its penalty in disappointment.  The form was not that of
Flora, nor was the face visible; and, to crown his vexation,
while he laboured with the nail to enlarge the hole, that he
might obtain a more complete view, a slight noise betrayed his
purpose, and the object of his curiosity instantly disappeared;
nor, so far as he could observe, did she again revisit the
cottage.

All precautions to blockade his view were from that time
abandoned, and he was not only permitted, but assisted to rise
and quit what had been, in a literal sense, his couch of
confinement.  But he was not allowed to leave the hut; for the
young Highlander had now rejoined his senior, and one or other
was constantly on the watch.  Whenever Waverley approached the
cottage door, the sentinel upon duty civilly, but resolutely,
placed himself against it and opposed his exit, accompanying his
action with signs which seemed to imply there was danger in the
attempt, and an enemy in the neighbourhood.  Old Janet appeared
anxious and upon the watch; and Waverley, who had not yet
recovered strength enough to attempt to take his departure in
spite of the opposition of his hosts, was under the necessity of
remaining patient.  His fare was, in every point of view, better
than he could have conceived; for poultry, and even wine, were no
strangers to his table.  The Highlanders never presumed to eat
with him, and unless in the circumstance of watching him, treated
him with great respect.  His sole amusement was gazing from the
window, or rather the shapeless aperture which was meant to
answer the purpose of a window, upon large and rough brook, which
raged and foamed through a rocky channel, closely canopied with
trees and bushes, about ten feet beneath the site of his house of
captivity.

Upon the sixth day of his confinement, Waverley found himself so
well, that he began to meditate his escape from this dull and
miserable prison-house, thinking any risk which he might incur in
the attempt preferable to the stupefying and intolerable
uniformity of Janet's retirement.  The question indeed occurred,
whither he was to direct his course when again at his own
disposal.  Two schemes seemed practicable, yet both attended with
danger and difficulty.  One was to go back to Glennaquoich, and
join Fergus Mac-Ivor, by whom he was sure to be kindly received;
and in the present state of his mind, the rigour with which he
had been treated fully absolved him, in his own eyes, from his
allegiance to the existing government.  The other project was to
endeavour to attain a Scottish seaport, and thence to take
shipping for England.  His mind wavered between these plans; and
probably, if he had effected his escape in the manner he
proposed, he would have been finally determined by the
comparative facility by which either might have been executed.
But his fortune had settled that he was not to be left to his
option.

Upon the evening of the seventh day the door of the hut suddenly
opened, and two Highlanders entered, whom Waverley recognized as
having been a part of his original escort to this cottage.  They
conversed for a short time with the old man and his companion,
and then made Waverley understand, by very significant signs,
that he was to prepare to accompany them.  This was a joyful
communication.  What had already passed during his confinement
made it evident that no personal injury was designed to him; and
his romantic spirit, having recovered during his repose much of
that elasticity which anxiety, resentment, disappointment, and
the mixture of unpleasant feelings excited by his late
adventures, had for a time subjugated, was now wearied with
inaction.  His passion for the wonderful, although it is the
nature of such dispositions to be excited, by that degree of
danger which merely gives dignity to the feeling of the
individual exposed to it, had sunk under the extraordinary and
apparently, insurmountable evils by which he appeared environed
at Cairnvreckan.  In fact, this compound of intense curiosity and
exalted imagination forms a peculiar species of courage, which
somewhat resembles the light usually carried by a miner,--
sufficiently competent, indeed, to afford him guidance and
comfort during the ordinary perils of his labour, but certain to
be extinguished should he encounter the more formidable hazard of
earth-damps or pestiferous vapours.  It was now, however, once
more rekindled, and with a throbbing mixture of hope, awe, and
anxiety, Waverley watched the group before him, as those who had
just arrived snatched a hasty meal, and the others assumed their
arms, and made brief preparations for their departure.

As he sat in the smoky hut, at some distance from the fire,
around which the others were crowded, he felt a gentle pressure
upon his arm.  He looked round--it was Alice, the daughter of
Donald Bean Lean.  She showed him a packet of papers in such a
manner that the motion was remarked by no one else, put her
finger for a second to her lips, and passed on, as if to assist
old Janet in packing Waverley's clothes in his portmanteau.  It
was obviously her wish that he should not seem to recognize her;
yet she repeatedly looked back at him, as an opportunity occurred
of doing so unobserved, and when she saw that he remarked what
she did, she folded the packet with great address and speed in
one of his shirts, which she deposited in the portmanteau.

Here then was fresh food for conjecture.  Was Alice his unknown
warden, and was this maiden of the cavern the tutelar genius that
watched his bed during his sickness?  Was he in the hands of her
father?  and if so, what was his purpose?  Spoil, his usual
object, seemed in this case neglected; for not only Waverley's
property was restored, but his purse, which might have tempted
this professional plunderer, had been all along suffered to
remain in his possession.  All this perhaps the packet might
explain; but it was plain from Alice's manner that she desired he
should consult it in secret.  Nor did she again seek his eye
after she had satisfied herself that her manoeuvre was observed
and understood.  On the contrary, she shortly afterwards left
the hut, and it was only as she tripped out from the door, that,
favoured by the obscurity, she gave Waverley a parting smile and
nod of significance, ere she vanished in the dark glen.

The young Highlander was repeatedly dispatched by his comrades as
if to collect intelligence.  At length when he had returned for
the third or fourth time, the whole party arose, and made signs
to our hero to accompany them.  Before his departure, however, he
shook hands with old Janet, who had been so sedulous in his
behalf, and added substantial marks of his gratitude for her
attendance.

'God bless you!  God prosper you, Captain Waverley!'  said Janet,
in good Lowland Scotch, though he had never hitherto heard her
utter a syllable, save in Gaelic.  But the impatience of his
attendants prohibited his asking any explanation.



CHAPTER XXXVIII

A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE

There was a moment's pause when the whole party had got out of
the hut; and the Highlander who assumed the command, and who, in
Waverley's awakened recollection, seemed to be the same tall
figure who had acted as Donald Bean Lean's lieutenant, by
whispers and signs imposed the strictest silence.  He delivered
to Edward a sword and steel pistol, and, pointing up the tract,
laid his hand on the hilt of his own claymore, as if to make him
sensible they might have occasion to use force to make good their
passage.  He then placed himself at the head of the party, who
moved up the pathway in single or Indian file, Waverley being
placed nearest to their leader.  He moved with great precaution,
as if to avoid giving any alarm, and halted as soon as he came to
the verge of the ascent.  Waverley was soon sensible of the
reason, for he heard at no great distance an English sentinel
call out 'All's well.'  The heavy sound sank on the night-wind
down the woody glen, and was answered by the echoes of its banks.
A second, third, and fourth time, the signal was repeated,
fainter and fainter, as if at a greater and greater distance.  It
was obvious that a party of soldiers were near, and upon their
guard, though not sufficiently so to detect men skilful in every
art of predatory warfare, like those with whom he now watched
their ineffectual precautions.

When these sounds had died upon the silence of the night, the
Highlanders began their march swiftly, yet with the most cautious
silence.  Waverley had little time, or indeed disposition, for
observation, and could only discern that; they passed at some
distance from a large building, in the windows of which a light
or two yet seemed to twinkle.  A little farther on, the leading
Highlander snuffed the wind like a setting spaniel, and then made
a signal to his party again to halt.  He stooped down upon all-
fours, wrapped up in his plaid, so as to be scarce
distinguishable from the heathy ground on which he moved, and
advanced in this posture to reconnoitre.  In a short time he
returned, and dismissed his attendants excepting one; and,
intimating to Waverley that he must imitate his cautious mode of
proceeding, all three crept forward on hands and knees.

After proceeding a greater way in this inconvenient manner than
was at all comfortable to his knees and shins, Waverley perceived
the smell of smoke, which probably had been much sooner
distinguished by the more acute nasal organs of his guide.  It
proceeded from the corner of a low and ruinous sheepfold, the
walls of which were made of loose stones, as is usual in
Scotland.  Close by this low wall the Highlander guided Waverley,
and, in order probably to make him sensible of his danger, or
perhaps to obtain the full credit of his own dexterity, he
intimated to him, by sign and example, that he might raise his
head so as to peep into the sheepfold.  Waverley did so, and
beheld an outpost of four or five soldiers lying by their watch-
fire.  They were all asleep, except the sentinel, who paced
backwards and forwards with his firelock on his shoulder, which
glanced red in the light of the fire as he crossed and recrossed
before it in his short walk, casting his eye frequently to that
part of the heavens from which the moon, hitherto obscured by
mist, seemed now about to make her appearance,

In the course of a minute or two, by one of those sudden changes
of atmosphere incident to a mountainous country, a breeze arose,
and swept before it the clouds which had covered the horizon, and
the night planet poured her full effulgence upon a wide and
blighted heath, skirted indeed with copsewood and stunted trees
in the quarter from which they had come, but open and bare to the
observation of the sentinel in that to which their course tended.
The wall of the sheepfold, indeed, concealed them as they lay,
but any advance beyond its shelter seemed impossible without
certain discovery.

The Highlander eyed the blue vault, but far from blessing the
useful light with Homer's, or rather Pope's, benighted peasant,
he muttered a Gaelic curse upon the unseasonable splendour of
MAC-FARLANE'S BUAT (i. e. lantern).  [See Note 21.]  He looked
anxiously around for a few minutes, and then apparently took his
resolution.  Leaving his attendant with Waverley, after motioning
to Edward to remain quiet, and giving his comrade directions in a
brief whisper, he retreated, favoured by the irregularity of the
ground, in the same direction and in the same manner as they had
advanced.  Edward, turning his head after him, could perceive him
crawling on all-fours with the dexterity of an Indian, availing
himself of every bush and inequality to escape observation, and
never passing over the more exposed parts of his track until the
sentinel's back was turned from him.  At length he reached the
thickets and underwood which partly covered the moor in that
direction, and probably extended to the verge of the glen where
Waverley had been so long an inhabitant.  The Highlander
disappeared, but it was only for a few minutes, for he suddenly
issued forth from a different part of the thicket, and advancing
boldly upon the open heath, as if to invite discovery, he
levelled his piece, and fired at the sentinel.  A wound in the
arm proved a disagreeable interruption to the poor fellow's
meteorological observations, as well as to the tune of 'Nancy
Dawson,' which he was whistling.  He returned the fire
ineffectually, and his comrades, starting up at the alarm,
advanced alertly towards the spot from which the first shot had
issued.  The Highlander, after giving them a full view of his
person, dived among the thickets, for his RUSE DE GUERRE had now
perfectly succeeded.

While the soldiers pursued the cause of their disturbance in one
direction, Waverley, adopting the hint of his remaining
attendant, made the best of his speed in that which his guide
originally intended to pursue, and which now (the attention of
the soldiers being drawn to a different quarter) was unobserved
and unguarded.  When they had run about a quarter of a mile, the
brow of a rising ground, which they had surmounted, concealed
them from further risk of observation.  They still heard,
however, at a distance, the shouts of the soldiers as they
hallooed to each other upon the heath, and they could also hear
the distant roll of a drum beating to arms in the same direction.
But these hostile sounds were now far in their rear, and died
away upon the breeze as they rapidly proceeded.

When they had walked about half an hour, still along open and
waste ground of the same description, they came to the stump of
an ancient oak, which, from its relics, appeared to have been at
one time a tree of very large size.  In an adjacent hollow they
found several Highlanders, with a horse or two.  They had not
joined them above a few minutes, which Waverley's attendant
employed, in all probability, in communicating the cause of their
delay (for the words 'Duncan Duroch' were often repeated), when
Duncan himself appeared, out of breath indeed, and with all the
symptoms of having run for his life, but laughing, and in high
spirits at the success of the stratagem by which he had baffled
his pursuers.  This, indeed, Waverley could easily conceive might
be a matter of no great difficulty to the active mountaineer, who
was perfectly acquainted with the ground, and traced his course
with a firmness and confidence to which his pursuers must have
been strangers.  The alarm which he excited seemed still to
continue, for a dropping shot or two were heard at a great
distance, which seemed to serve as an addition to the mirth of
Duncan and his comrades.

The mountaineer now resumed the arms with which he had entrusted
our hero, giving him to understand that the dangers of the
journey were happily surmounted.  Waverley was then mounted upon
one of the horses, a change which the fatigue of the night and
his recent illness rendered exceedingly acceptable.  His
portmanteau was placed on another pony, Duncan mounted a third,
and they set forward at a round pace, accompanied by their
escort.  No other incident marked the course of that night's
journey, and at the dawn of morning they attained the banks of a
rapid river.  The country around was at once fertile and
romantic.  Steep banks of wood were broken by cornfields, which
this year presented an abundant harvest, already in a great
measure cut down.

On the opposite bank of the river, and partly surrounded by a
winding of its stream, stood a large and massive castle, the
half-ruined turrets of which were already glittering in the first
rays of the sun.  [See Note 22.]  It was in form an oblong
square, of size sufficient to contain a large court in the
centre.  The towers at each angle of the square rose higher than
the walls of the building, and were in their turn surmounted by
turrets, differing in height, and irregular in shape.  Upon one
of these a sentinel watched, whose bonnet and plaid, streaming in
the wind, declared him to be a Highlander, as a broad white
ensign, which floated from another tower, announced that the
garrison was held by the insurgent adherents of the House of
Stuart.

Passing hastily through a small and mean town, where their
appearance excited neither surprise nor curiosity in the few
peasants whom the labours of the harvest began to summon from
their repose, the party crossed an ancient and narrow bridge of
several arches, and turning to the left, up an avenue of huge old
sycamores, Waverley found himself in front of the gloomy yet
picturesque structure which he had admired at a distance.  A huge
iron-grated door, which formed the exterior defence of the
gateway, was already thrown back to receive them; and a second,
heavily constructed of oak, and studded thickly with iron nails,
being next opened, admitted them into the interior courtyard.  A
gentleman, dressed in the Highland garb, and having a white
cockade in his bonnet, assisted Waverley to dismount from his
horse, and with much courtesy bid him welcome to the castle.

The governor for so we must term him, having conducted Waverley
to a half-ruinous apartment, where, however, there was a small
camp-bed, and having offered him any refreshment which he
desired, was then about to leave him.

'Will you not add to your civilities,' said Waverley, after
having made the usual acknowledgement, 'by having the kindness to
inform me where I am, and whether or not I am to consider myself
as a prisoner?'

'I am not at liberty to be so explicit upon this subject as I
could wish.  Briefly, however, you are in the Castle of Doune, in
the district of Menteith, and in no danger whatever.'

'And how am I assured of that?'

'By the honour of Donald Stewart, governor of the garrison, and
lieutenant-colonel in the service of his Royal Highness Prince
Charles Edward.'  So saying, he hastily left the apartment, as if
to avoid further discussion.

Exhausted by the fatigues of the night, our hero now threw
himself upon the bed, and was in a few minutes fast asleep.



CHAPTER XXXIX

THE JOURNEY IS CONTINUED

Before Waverley awakened from his repose, the day was far
advanced, and he began to feel that he had passed many hours
without food.  This was soon supplied in form of a copious
breakfast, but Colonel Stewart, as if wishing to avoid the
queries of his guest, did not again present himself.  His
compliments were, however, delivered by a servant, with an offer
to provide anything in his power that could be useful to Captain
Waverley on his journey, which he intimated would be continued
that evening.  To Waverley's further inquiries, the servant
opposed the impenetrable barrier of real or affected ignorance
and stupidity.  He removed the table and provisions, and Waverley
was again consigned to his own meditations.

As he contemplated the strangeness of his fortune, which seemed
to delight in placing him at the disposal of others, without the
power of directing his own motions, Edward's eye suddenly rested
upon his portmanteau, which had been deposited in his apartment
during his sleep.  The mysterious appearance of Alice, in the
cottage of the glen, immediately rushed upon his mind, and he was
about to secure and examine the packet which she had deposited
among his clothes, when the servant of Colonel Stewart again made
his appearance, and took up the portmanteau upon his shoulders.

'May I not take out a change of linen, my friend?'

'Your honour sall get ane o' the Colonel's ain ruffled sarks, but
this maun gang in the baggage-cart.'

And so saying, he very coolly carried off the portmanteau,
without waiting further remonstrance, leaving our hero in a state
where disappointment and indignation struggled for the mastery.
In a few minutes he heard a cart rumble out of the rugged
courtyard, and made no doubt that he was now dispossessed, for a
space at least, if not for ever, of the only documents which
seemed to promise some light upon the dubious events which had of
late influenced his destiny.  With such melancholy thoughts he
had to beguile about four or five hours of solitude.

When this space was elapsed, the trampling of horse was heard in
the courtyard, and Colonel Stewart soon after made his appearance
to request his guest to take some further refreshment before his
departure.  The offer was accepted, for a late breakfast had by
no means left our hero incapable of doing honour to dinner, which
was now presented.  The conversation of his host was that of a
plain country gentleman, mixed with some soldier-like sentiments
and expressions.  He cautiously avoided any reference to the
military operations or civil politics of the time:  and to
Waverley's direct inquiries concerning some of these points,
replied, that he was not at liberty to speak upon such topics.

When dinner was finished, the governor arose, and, wishing Edward
a good journey, said, that having been informed by Waverley's
servant that his baggage had been sent forward, he had taken the
freedom to supply him with such changes of linen as he might find
necessary, till he was again possessed of his own.  With this
compliment he disappeared.  A servant acquainted Waverley an
instant afterwards, that his horse was ready.

Upon this hint he descended into the courtyard, and found a
trooper holding a saddled horse, on which he mounted, and sallied
from the portal of Doune Castle, attended by about a score of
armed men on horseback.  These had less the appearance of regular
soldiers than of individuals who had suddenly assumed arms from
some pressing motive of unexpected emergency.  Their uniform,
which was blue and red, an affected imitation of that of French
chasseurs, was in many respects incomplete, and sat awkwardly
upon those who wore it.  Waverley's eye, accustomed to look at a
well-disciplined regiment, could easily discover that the motions
and habits of his escort were not those of trained soldiers, and
that, although expert enough in the management of their horses,
their skill was that of huntsmen or grooms, rather than of
troopers.  The horses were not trained to the regular pace so
necessary to execute simultaneous and combined movements and
formations; nor did they seem BITTED (as it is technically
expressed) for the use of the sword.  The men, however, were
stout, hardy-looking fellows, and might be individually
formidable as irregular cavalry.  The commander of this small
party was mounted upon an excellent hunter, and although dressed
in uniform, his change of apparel did not prevent Waverley from
recognizing his old acquaintance, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple.

Now, although the terms upon which Edward had parted with this
gentleman were none of the most friendly, he would have
sacrificed every recollection of their foolish quarrel for the
pleasure of enjoying once more the social intercourse of question
and answer, from which he had been so long secluded.  But
apparently the remembrance of his defeat by the Baron of
Bradwardine, of which Edward had been the unwilling cause, still
rankled in the mind of the low-bred, and yet proud laird.  He
carefully avoided giving the ]east sign of recognition, riding
doggedly at the head of his men, who, though scarce equal in
numbers to a sergeant's party, were denominated Captain
Falconer's troop, being preceded by a trumpet, which sounded from
time to time, and a standard, borne by Cornet Falconer, the
laird's young brother.  The lieutenant, an elderly man, had much
the air of a low sportsman and boon companion; an expression of
dry humour predominated in his countenance over features of a
vulgar cast, which indicated habitual intemperance.  His cocked
hat was set knowingly upon one side of his head, and while he
whistled the 'Bob of Dumblain,' under the influence of half a
mutchkin of brandy, he seemed to fret merrily forward, with a
happy indifference to the state of the country, the conduct of
the party, the end of the journey, and all other sublunary
matters whatever.

From this wight, who now and then dropped alongside of his horse,
Waverley hoped to acquire some information, or at least to
beguile the way with talk.

'A fine evening, sir,' was Edward's salutation.

'Ow, aye, sir!  a bra' night,' replied the lieutenant, in broad
Scotch of the most vulgar description.

'And a fine harvest, apparently,' continued Waverley, following
up his first attack.

'Aye, the aits will be got bravely in:  but the farmers, deil
burst them, and the corn-mongers will make the auld price gude
against them as has horses till keep.'

'You perhaps act as quarter-master, sir?'

'Aye, quarter-master, riding-master, and lieutenant,' answered
this officer of all work.  'And, to be sure, wha's fitter to look
after the breaking and the keeping of the poor beasts than
mysell, that bought and sold every ane o' them?'

'And pray, sir, if it be not too great a freedom, may I beg to
know where we are going just now?'

'A fule's errand, I fear,' answered this communicative personage.

'In that case,' said Waverley, determined not to spare civility,
'I should have thought a person of your appearance would not have
been found on the road.'

'Vera true, vera true, sir,' replied the officer, 'but every why
has its wherefore.  Ye maun ken, the laird there bought a' thir
beasts frae' me to munt his troop, and agreed to pay for them
according to the necessities and prices of the time.  But then he
hadna the ready penny, and I hae been advised his bond will not
be worth a boddle against the estate, and then I had a' my
dealers to settle wi' at Martinmas; and so as he very kindly
offered me this commission, and as the auld Fifteen [The Judges
of the Supreme Court of Session in Scotland are proverbially
termed, among the country people, The Fifteen.] wad never help me
to my siller for sending out naigs against the Government, why,
conscience!  sir, I thought my best chance for payment was e'en
to GAE OUT mysell; and ye may judge, sir, as I hae dealt a' my
life in halters, I think na mickle o' putting my craig in peril
of a St. Johnstone's tippet.'  [TO GO OUT, or TO HAVE BEEN OUT,
in Scotland, was a conventional phrase similar to that of the
Irish respecting a man having been UP, both having reference to
an individual who had been engaged in insurrection.  It was
accounted ill-breeding in Scotland, about forty years since, to
use the phrase rebellion or rebel, which might be interpreted by
some of the parties present as a personal insult.  It was also
esteemed more polite even for stanch Whigs to denominate Charles
Edward the Chevalier, than to speak of him as the Pretender; and
this kind of accommodating courtesy was usually observed in
society where individuals of each party mixed on friendly terms.]

'You are not, then, by profession a soldier?' said Waverley.

'Na, na; thank God,' answered this doughty partisan, 'I wasna
bred at sae short a tether; I was brought up to hack and manger.
I was bred a horse-couper, sir; and if I might live to see you at
Whitson-tryst, or at Stagshawbank, or the winter fair at Hawick,
and ye wanted a spanker that would lead the field, I'se be
caution I would serve ye easy; for Jamie Jinker was ne'er the lad
to impose upon a gentleman.  Ye're a gentleman, sir, and should
ken a horse's points; ye see that through-ganging thing that
Balmawhapple's on; I selled her till him.  She was bred out of
Lick-the-Ladle, that wan the king's plate at Caverton-Edge, by
Duke Hamilton's White-foot,' &c. &c. &c.

But as Jinker was entered full sail upon the pedigree of
Balmawhapple's mare, having already got as far as great-grandsire
and great-grand-dam, and while Waverley was watching for an
opportunity to obtain from him intelligence of more interest, the
noble captain checked his horse until they came up, and then,
without directly appearing to notice Edward, said sternly to the
genealogist, 'I thought, lieutenant', my orders were preceese,
that no one should speak to the prisoner?'

The metamorphosed horse-dealer was silenced of course, and slunk
to the rear, where he consoled himself by entering into a
vehement dispute upon the price of hay with a farmer, who had
reluctantly followed his laird to the field, rather than give up
his farm, whereof the lease had just expired.  Waverley was
therefore once more consigned to silence, foreseeing that further
attempts at conversation with any of the party would only give
Balmawhapple a wished-for opportunity to display the insolence of
authority, and the sulky spite of a temper naturally dogged, and
rendered more so by habits of low indulgence and the incense of
servile adulation.

In about two hours' time, the party were near the Castle of
Stirling, over whose battlements the union flag was brightened as
it waved in the evening sun.  To shorten his journey or perhaps
to display his importance and insult the English garrison,
Balmawhapple, inclining to the right, took his route through the
royal park, which reaches to and surrounds the rock upon which
the fortress is situated.

With a mind more at ease, Waverley could not have failed to
admire the mixture of romance and beauty which renders
interesting the scene through which he was now passing--the field
which had been the scene of the tournaments of old--the rock from
which the ladies beheld the contest, while each made vows for the
success of some favourite knight--the towers of the Gothic
church, where these vows might be paid--and, surmounting all, the
fortress itself, at once a castle and palace, where valour
received the prize from royalty, and knights and dames closed the
evening amid the revelry of the dance, the song, and the feast.
All these were objects fitted to arouse and interest a romantic
imagination.

But Waverley had other objects of meditation, and an incident
soon occurred of a nature to disturb meditation of any kind.
Balmawhapple, in the pride of his heart, as he wheeled his little
body of cavalry round the base of the castle, commanded his
trumpet to sound a flourish, and his standard to be displayed.
This insult produced apparently some sensation; for when the
cavalcade was at such a distance from the southern battery as to
admit of a gun being depressed so as to bear upon them, a flash
of fire issued from one of the embrasures upon the rock; and ere
the report with which it was attended could be heard, the rushing
sound of a cannon-ball passed over Balmawhapple's head, and the
bullet, burying itself in the ground at a few yards' distance,
covered him with the earth which it drove up.  There was no need
to bid the party trudge.  In fact, every man, acting upon the
impulse of the moment, soon brought Mr. Jinker's steeds to show
their mettle, and the cavaliers, retreating with more speed than
regularity, never took to a trot, as the lieutenant afterwards
observed, until an intervening eminence had secured them from any
repetition of so undesirable a compliment on the part of Stirling
Castle.  I must do Balmawhapple, however, the justice to say,
that he not only kept the rear of his troop, and laboured to
maintain some order among them, but, in the height of his
gallantry, answered the fire of the castle by discharging one of
his horse-pistols at the battlements; although, the distance
being nearly half a mile, I could never learn that this measure
of retaliation was attended with any particular effect.

The travellers now passed the memorable field of Bannockburn, and
reached the Torwood,--a place glorious or terrible to the
recollections of the Scottish peasant, as the feats of Wallace,
or the cruelties of Wude Willie Grime, predominate in his
recollection.  At Falkirk, a town formerly famous in Scottish
history, and soon to be again distinguished as the scene of
military events of importance, Balmawhapple proposed to halt and
repose for the evening.  This was performed with very little
regard to military discipline, his worthy quarter-master being
chiefly solicitous to discover where the best brandy might be
come at.  Sentinels were deemed unnecessary, and the only vigils
performed were those of such of the party as could procure
liquor.  A few resolute men might easily have cut off the
detachment; but of the inhabitants some were favourable, many
indifferent, and the rest overawed.  So nothing memorable
occurred in the course of the evening, except that Waverley's
rest was sorely interrupted by the revellers hallooing forth
their Jacobite songs, without remorse or mitigation of voice.

Early in the morning they were again mounted, and on the road to
Edinburgh, though the pallid visages of some of the troop
betrayed that they had spent a night of sleepless debauchery.
They halted at Linlithgow, distinguished by its ancient palace,
which, Sixty Years since, was entire and habitable, and whose
venerable ruins, not quite Sixty Years since, very narrowly
escaped the unworthy fate of being converted into a barrack for
French prisoners.  May repose and blessings attend the ashes of
the patriotic statesman, who, amongst his last services to
Scotland, interposed to prevent this profanation!

As they approached the metropolis of Scotland, through a
champaign and cultivated country, the sounds of war began to be
heard.  The distant, yet distinct report of heavy cannon, fired
at intervals, apprized Waverley that the work of destruction was
going forward.  Even Balmawhapple seemed moved to take some
precautions, by sending an advanced party in front of his troop,
keeping the main body in tolerable order, and moving steadily
forward.

Marching in this manner they speedily reached an eminence, from
which they could view Edinburgh stretching along the ridgy hill
which slopes eastward from the Castle.  The latter, being in a
state of siege, or rather of blockade, by the northern
insurgents, who had already occupied the town for two or three
days, fired at intervals upon such parties of Highlanders as
exposed themselves, either on the main street, or elsewhere in
the vicinity of the fortress.  The morning being calm and fair,
the effect of this dropping fire was to invest the Castle in
wreaths of smoke, the edges of which dissipated slowly in the
air, while the central veil was darkened ever and anon by fresh
clouds poured forth from the battlements; the whole giving, by
the partial concealment, an appearance of grandeur and gloom,
rendered more terrific when Waverley reflected on the cause by
which it was produced, and that each explosion might ring some
brave man's knell.

Ere they approached the city, the partial cannonade had wholly
ceased.  Balmawhapple, however, having in his recollection the
unfriendly greeting which his troop had received from the battery
of Stirling, had apparently no wish to tempt the forbearance of
the artillery of the Castle.  He therefore left the direct road,
and sweeping considerably to the southward, so as to keep out of
the range of the cannon, approached the ancient palace of
Holyrood, without having entered the walls of the city.  He then
drew up his men in front of that venerable pile, and delivered
Waverley to the custody of a guard of Highlanders, whose officer
conducted him into the interior of the building.

A long, low, and ill-proportioned gallery, hung with pictures,
affirmed to be the portraits of kings, who, if they ever
flourished at all, lived several hundred years before the
invention of painting in oil colours, served as a sort of guard-
chamber, or vestibule, to the apartments which the adventurous
Charles Edward now occupied in the palace of his ancestors.
Officers, both in the Highland and Lowland garb, passed and
repassed in haste, or loitered in the hall, as if waiting for
orders.  Secretaries were engaged in making out passes, musters,
and returns.  All seemed busy, and earnestly intent upon
something of importance; but Waverley was suffered to remain
seated in the recess of a window, unnoticed by any one, in
anxious reflection upon the crisis of his fate, which seemed now
rapidly approaching.



CHAPTER XL

AN OLD AND A NEW ACQUAINTANCE

While he was deep sunk in his reverie, the rustle of tartans was
heard behind him, a friendly arm clasped his shoulders, and a
friendly voice exclaimed,

'Said the Highland prophet sooth?--or must second-sight go for
nothing?'

Waverley turned, and was warmly embraced by Fergus Mac-Ivor.  'A
thousand welcomes to Holyrood, once more possessed by her
legitimate sovereign!  Did I not say we should prosper, and that
you would fall into the hands of the Philistines if you parted
from us?'

'Dear Fergus!'  said Waverley, eagerly returning his greeting,
'it is long since I have heard a friend's voice.  Where is
Flora?'

'Safe, and a triumphant spectator of our success.'

'In this place?'  said Waverley.

'Aye, in this city at least,' answered his friend, 'and you shall
see her; but first you must meet a friend whom you little think
of, who has been frequent in his inquiries after you.'

Thus saying, he dragged Waverley by the arm out of the guard-
chamber, and, ere he knew where he was conducted, Edward found
himself in a presence-room, fitted up with some attempt at royal
state.

A young man, wearing his own fair hair, distinguished by the
dignity of his mien and the noble expression of his well-formed
and regular features, advanced out of a circle of military
gentlemen and Highland chiefs, by whom he was surrounded.  In his
easy and graceful manners Waverley afterwards thought he could
have discovered his high birth and rank, although the star on his
breast, and the embroidered garter at his knee, had not appeared
as its indications.

'Let me present to your Royal Highness,' said Fergus, bowing
profoundly--

'The descendant of one of the most ancient and loyal families in
England,' said the young Chevalier, interrupting him.  'I beg
your pardon for interrupting you, my dear Mac-Ivor; but no master
of ceremonies is necessary to present a Waverley to a Stuart.'

Thus saying, he extended his hand to Edward with the utmost
courtesy, who could not, had he desired it, have avoided
rendering him the homage which seemed due to his rank, and was
certainly the right of his birth.  'I am sorry to understand, Mr.
Waverley, that, owing to circumstances which have been as yet but
ill explained, you have suffered some restraint among my
followers in Perthshire, and on your march here; but we are in
such a situation that we hardly know our friends, and I am even
at this moment uncertain whether I can have the pleasure of
considering Mr. Waverley as among mine.'

He then paused for an instant; but before Edward could adjust a
suitable reply or even arrange his ideas as to its purport, the
Prince took out a paper, and then proceeded:--'I should indeed
have no doubts upon this subject, if I could trust to this
proclamation, set forth by the friends of the Elector of Hanover,
in which they rank Mr. Waverley among the nobility and gentry who
are menaced with the pains of high treason for loyalty to their
legitimate sovereign.  But I desire to gain no adherents save
from affection and conviction; and if Mr. Waverley inclines to
prosecute his journey to the south, or to join the forces of the
Elector, he shall have my passport and free permission to do so;
and I can only regret, that my present power will not extend to
protect him against the probable consequences of such a measure.
--But,' continued Charles Edward, after another short pause, 'if
Mr. Waverley should, like his ancestor, Sir Nigel, determine to
embrace a cause which has little to recommend it but its justice,
and follow a prince who throws himself upon the affections of his
people to recover the throne of his ancestors, or perish in the
attempt, I can only say, that among these nobles and gentlemen he
will find worthy associates in a gallant enterprise, and will
follow a master who may be unfortunate, but, I trust, will never
be ungrateful.'

The politic Chieftain of the race of Ivor knew his advantage in
introducing Waverley to this personal interview with the royal
Adventurer.  Unaccustomed to the address and manners of a
polished court, in which Charles was eminently skilful, his words
and his kindness penetrated the heart of our hero, and easily
outweighed all prudential motives.  To be thus personally
solicited for assistance by a Prince, whose form and manners, as
well as the spirit which he displayed in this singular
enterprise, answered his ideas of a hero of romance; to be
courted by him in the ancient halls of his paternal palace,
recovered by the sword which he was already bending towards other
conquests, gave Edward, in his own eyes, the dignity and
importance which he had ceased to consider as his attributes.
Rejected, slandered, and threatened upon the one side, he was
irresistibly attracted to the cause which the prejudices of
education, and the political principles of his family, had
already recommended as the most just.  These thoughts rushed
through his mind like a torrent, sweeping before them every
consideration of an opposite tendency,--the time, besides,
admitted of no deliberation,--and Waverley, kneeling to Charles
Edward, devoted his heart and sword to the vindication of his
rights!

The Prince (for, although unfortunate in the faults and follies
of his forefathers, we shall here, and elsewhere, give him the
title due to his birth) raised Waverley from the ground, and
embraced him with an expression of thanks too warm not to be
genuine.  He also thanked Fergus Mac-Ivor repeatedly for having
brought him such an adherent, and presented Waverley to the
various noblemen, chieftains, and officers who were about his
person, as a young gentleman of the highest hopes and prospects,
in whose bold and enthusiastic avowal of his cause they might see
an evidence of the sentiments of the English families of rank at
this important crisis.   [See Note 23.]  Indeed, this was a point
much doubted among the adherents of the house of Stuart; and as a
well-founded disbelief in the co-operation of the English
Jacobites kept many Scottish men of rank from his standard, and
diminished the courage of those who had joined it, nothing could
be more seasonable for the Chevalier than the open declaration in
his favour of the representative of the house of Waverley-Honour,
so long known as cavaliers and royalists.  This Fergus had
foreseen from the beginning.  He really loved Waverley, because
their feelings and projects never thwarted each other; he hoped
to see him united with Flora, and he rejoiced that they were
effectually engaged in the same cause.  But, as we before hinted,
he also exulted as a politician in beholding secured to his party
a partisan of such consequence; and he was far from being
insensible to the personal importance which he himself gained
with the Prince, from having so materially assisted in making the
acquisition.

Charles Edward, on his part, seemed eager to show his attendants
the value which he attached to his new adherent, by entering
immediately, as in confidence, upon the circumstances of his
situation.  'You have been secluded so much from intelligence,
Mr. Waverley, from causes of which I am but indistinctly
informed, that I presume you are even yet unacquainted with the
important particulars of my present situation.  You have,
however, heard of my landing in the remote district of Moidart,
with only seven attendants, and of the numerous chiefs and clans
whose loyal enthusiasm at once placed a solitary adventurer at
the head of a gallant army.  You must also, I think, have
learned, that the commander-in-chief of the Hanoverian Elector,
Sir John Cope, marched into the Highlands at the head of a
numerous and well-appointed military force, with the intention of
giving us battle, but that his courage failed him when we were
within three hours' march of each other, so that he fairly gave
us the slip, and marched northward to Aberdeen, leaving the Low
Country open and undefended.  Not to lose so favourable an
opportunity, I marched on to this metropolis, driving before me
two regiments of horse, Gardiner's and Hamilton's, who had
threatened to cut to pieces every Highlander that should venture
to pass Stirling; and while discussions were carrying forward
among the magistracy and citizens of Edinburgh, whether they
should defend themselves or surrender, my good friend Lochiel
(laying his hand on the shoulder of that gallant and accomplished
chieftain) saved them the trouble of further deliberation, by
entering the gates with five hundred Camerons.  Thus far,
therefore, we have done well; but, in the meanwhile, this doughty
general's nerves being braced by the keen air of Aberdeen, he has
taken shipping for Dunbar, and I have just received certain
information that he landed there yesterday.  His purpose must
unquestionably be to march towards us to recover possession of
the capital.  Now, there are two opinions in my council of war:
one, that being inferior probably in numbers, and certainly in
discipline and military appointments, not to mention our total
want of artillery, and the weakness of our cavalry, it will be
safest to fall back towards the mountains, and there protract the
war, until fresh succours arrive from France, and the whole body
of the Highland clans shall have taken arms in our favour.  The
opposite opinion maintains, that a retrograde movement, in our
circumstances, is certain to throw utter discredit on our arms
and undertaking; and, far from gaining us new partisans, will be
the means of disheartening-those who have joined our standard.
The officers who use these last arguments, among whom is your
friend Fergus Mac-Ivor, maintain, that if the Highlanders are
strangers to the usual military discipline of Europe, the
soldiers whom they are to encounter are no less strangers to
their peculiar and formidable mode of attack; that the attachment
and courage of the chiefs and gentlemen are not to be doubted;
and that as they will be in the midst of the enemy, their
clansmen will as surely follow them; in fine, that having drawn
the sword, we should throw away the scabbard, and trust our cause
to battle, and to the God of Battles.  Will Mr. Waverley favour
us with his opinion in these arduous circumstances?'

Waverley coloured high betwixt pleasure and modesty at the
distinction implied in this question, and answered, with equal
spirit-and readiness, that he could not venture to offer an
opinion as derived from military skill, but that the counsel
would be far the most acceptable to him which should first afford
him an opportunity to evince his zeal in his Royal Highness's
service.

'Spoken like a Waverley!'  answered Charles Edward; and that you
may hold a rank in some degree corresponding to your name, allow
me, instead of the captain's commission which you have lost, to
offer you the brevet rank of major in my service, with the
advantage of acting as one of my aides de camp until you can be
attached to a regiment, of which I hope several will be speedily
embodied.'

'Your Royal Highness will forgive me,' answered Waverley (for his
recollection turned to Balmawhapple and his scanty troop), 'If I
decline accepting any rank until the time and place where I may
have interest enough to raise a sufficient body of men to make my
command useful to your Royal Highness's service.  In the
meanwhile, I hope for your permission to serve as a volunteer
under my friend Fergus Mac-Ivor.'

'At least,' said the Prince, who was obviously pleased with this
proposal, 'allow me the pleasure of arming you after the Highland
fashion.'  With these words, he unbuckled the broadsword which he
wore, the belt of which was plated with silver, and the steel
basket-hilt richly and curiously inlaid, 'The blade,' said the
Prince, 'is a genuine Andrea Ferrara; it has been a sort of
heirloom in our family; but I am convinced I put it into better
hands than my own, and will add to it pistols of the same
workmanship.--Colonel Mac-Ivor, you must have much to say to your
friend; I will detain you no longer from your private
conversation; but remember, we expect you both to attend us in
the evening.  It may be perhaps the last night we may enjoy in
these halls, and as we go to the field with a clear conscience,
we will spend the eve of battle merrily.'

Thus licensed, the Chief and Waverley left the presence-chamber.



CHAPTER XLI

THE MYSTERY BEGINS TO BE CLEARED UP

'How do you like him?'  was Fergus's first question, as they
descended the large stone staircase.

'A prince to live and die under,' was Waverley's enthusiastic
answer.

'I knew you would think so when you saw him, and I intended you
should have met earlier, but was prevented by your sprain.  And
yet he has his foibles, or rather he has difficult cards to play,
and his Irish officers, [See note 24.] who are much about him,
are but sorry advisers,--they cannot discriminate among the
numerous pretensions that are set up.  Would you think it--I have
been obliged for the present to suppress an earl's patent,
granted for services rendered ten years ago, for fear of exciting
the jealousy, forsooth, of C-- and M--.  But you were very right,
Edward, to refuse the situation of aide de camp.  There are two
vacant, indeed, but Clanronald and Lochiel, and almost all of us,
have requested one for young Aberchallader, and the Lowlanders
and the Irish party are equally desirous to have the other for
the Master of F--.  Now, if either of these candidates were to be
superseded in your favour, you would make enemies.  And then I am
surprised that the Prince should have offered you a majority,
when he knows very well that nothing short of lieutenant-colonel
will satisfy others, who cannot bring one hundred and fifty men
to the field.  "But patience, cousin, and shuffle the cards!" It
is all very well for the present, and we must have you regularly
equipped for the evening in your new costume; for, to say truth,
your outward man is scarce fit for a court.'

'Why,' said Waverley, looking at his soiled dress, 'my shooting-
jacket has seen service since we parted; but that, probably, you,
my friend, know as well or better than I.'

'You do my second-sight too much honour,' said Fergus, 'We were
so busy, first with the scheme of giving battle to Cope, and
afterwards with our operations in the Lowlands, that I could only
give general directions to such of our people as were left in
Perthshire to respect and protect you, should you come in their
way.  But let me hear the full story of your adventures, for they
have reached us in a very partial and mutilated manner.'

Waverley then detailed at length the circumstances with which the
reader is already acquainted, to which Fergus listened with great
attention.  By this time they had reached the door of his
quarters, which he had taken up in a small paved court, retiring
from the street called the Canongate, at the house of a buxom
widow of forty, who seemed to smile very graciously upon the
handsome young Chief, she being a person with whom good looks and
good humour were sure to secure an interest, whatever might be
the party's political opinions.  Here Callum Beg received them
with a smile of recognition.  'Callum,' said the Chief, 'call
Shemus an Snachad' (James of the Needle).  This was the
hereditary tailor of Vich Ian Vohr.  'Shemus, Mr. Waverley is to
wear the CATH DATH (battle colour, or tartan); his trews must be
ready in four hours.  You know the measure of a well-made man:
two double nails to the small of the leg'--

'Eleven from haunch to heel, seven round the waist--I give your
honour leave to hang Shemus, if there's a pair of sheers in the
Highlands that has a baulder sneck than her's ain at the CUMADH
AN TRUAIS' (shape of the trews).

'Get a plaid of Mac-Ivor tartan, and sash,' continued the
Chieftain, 'and a blue bonnet of the Prince's pattern, at Mr.
Mouat's in the Crames.  My short green coat, with silver lace and
silver buttons, will fit him exactly, and I have never worn it.
Tell Ensign Maccombich to pick out a handsome target from among
mine.  The Prince has given Mr. Waverley broadsword and pistols,
I will furnish him with a dirk and purse; add but a pair of low-
heeled shoes, and then, my dear Edward (turning to him), you will
be a complete son of Ivor.

These necessary directions given, the Chieftain resumed the
subject of Waverley's adventures.  'It is plain,' he said, 'that
you have been in the custody of Donald Bean Lean.  You must know,
that when I marched away my clan to join the Prince, I laid my
injunctions on that worthy member of society to perform a certain
piece of service, which done, he was to join me with all the
force he could muster.  But instead of doing so, the gentleman,
finding the coast clear, thought it better to make war on his own
account, and has scoured the country, plundering, I believe, both
friend and foe, under pretence of levying blackmail, sometimes as
if by my authority, and sometimes (and be cursed to his
consummate impudence) in his own great name!  Upon my honour, if
I live to see the cairn of Benmore again, I shall be tempted to
hang that fellow!  I recognize his hand particularly in the mode
of your rescue from that canting rascal Gilfillan, and I have
little doubt that Donald himself played the part of the pedlar on
that occasion; but how he should not have plundered you, or put
you to ransom, or availed himself in some way or other of your
captivity for his own advantage, passes my judgement.'

'When and how did you hear the intelligence of my confinement?'
asked Waverley.

'The Prince himself told me,' said Fergus,' and inquired very
minutely into your history.  He then mentioned your being at that
moment in the power of one of our northern parties--you know I
could not ask him to explain particulars--and requested my
opinion about disposing of you.  I recommended that you should be
brought here as a prisoner, because I did not wish to prejudice
you further with the English Government, in case you pursued your
purpose of going southward.  I knew nothing, you must recollect,
of the charge brought against you of aiding and abetting high
treason, which, I presume, had some share in changing your
original plan.  That sullen, good-for-nothing brute,
Balmawhapple, was sent to escort you from Doune, with what he
calls his troop of horse.  As to his behaviour, in addition to
his natural antipathy to everything that resembles a gentleman,
I presume his adventure with Bradwardine rankles in his
recollection, the rather that I dare say his mode of telling that
story contributed to the evil reports which reached your quondam
regiment.'

'Very likely,' said Waverley; 'but now surely, my dear Fergus,
you may find time to tell me something of Flora.'

'Why,' replied Fergus, 'I can only tell you that she is well, and
residing for the present with a relation in this city.  I thought
it better she should come here, as since our success a good many
ladies of rank attend our military court; and I assure you, that
there is a sort of consequence annexed to the near relative of
such a person as Flora Mac-Ivor; and where there is such a
justling of claims and requests, a man must use every fair means
to enhance his importance.'

There was something in this last sentence which grated on
Waverley's feelings.  He could not bear that Flora should be
considered as conducing to her brother's preferment, by the
admiration which she must unquestionably attract; and although it
was in strict correspondence with many points of Fergus's
character, it shocked him as selfish, and unworthy of his
sister's high mind, and his own independent pride.  Fergus, to
whom such manoeuvres were familiar, as to one brought up at the
French court, did not observe the unfavourable impression which
he had unwarily made upon his friend's mind, and concluded by
saying, that they could hardly see Flora before the evening, when
she would be at the concert and ball, with which the Prince's
party were to be entertained.  She and I had a quarrel about her
not appearing to take leave of you.  I am unwilling to renew it,
by soliciting her to receive you this morning; and perhaps my
doing so might not only be ineffectual, but prevent your meeting
this evening.'

While thus conversing, Waverley heard in the court, before the
windows of the parlour, a well-known voice.  'I aver to you, my
worthy friend,' said the speaker, 'that it is a total dereliction
of military discipline; and were you not as it were a TYRO, your
purpose would deserve strong reprobation.  For a prisoner of war
is on no account to be coerced with fetters, or detained IN
ERGASTULO, as would have been the case had you put this gentleman
into the pit of the peel-house at Balmawhapple.  I grant, indeed,
that such a prisoner may for security be coerced IN CARCERE, that
is, in a public prison.'

The growling voice of Balmawhapple was heard as taking leave in
displeasure, but the word 'land-louper' alone was distinctly
audible.  He had disappeared before Waverley reached the house,
in order to greet the worthy Baron of Bradwardine.  The uniform
in which he was now attired, a blue coat, namely, with gold lace,
a scarlet waistcoat and breeches, and immense jack-boots, seemed
to have added fresh stiffness and rigidity to his tall,
perpendicular figure; and the consciousness of military command
and authority had increased, in the same proportion, the self-
importance of his demeanour, and the dogmatism of his
conversation.

He received Waverley with his usual kindness, and expressed
immediate anxiety to hear an explanation of the circumstances
attending the loss of his commission in Gardiner's dragoons;
'not,' he said, 'that he had the least apprehension of his young
friend having done aught which could merit such ungenerous
treatment as he had received from Government, but because it was
right and seemly that the Baron of Bradwardine should be, in
point of trust and in point of power, fully able to refute all
calumnies against the heir of Waverley-Honour, whom he had so
much right to regard as his own son.'

Fergus Mac-Ivor, who had now joined them, went hastily over the
circumstances of Waverley's story, and concluded with the
flattering reception he had met from the young Chevalier.  The
Baron listened in silence, and at the conclusion shook Waverley
heartily by the hand, and congratulated him upon entering the
service of his lawful Prince.  'For,' continued he, 'although it
has been justly held in all nations a matter of scandal and
dishonour to infringe the SACRAMENTUM MILITARE, and that whether
it was taken by each soldier singly, whilk the Romans denominated
PER CONJURATIONEM, or by one soldier in name of the rest, yet no
one ever doubted that the allegiance so sworn was discharged by
the DIMISSIO, or discharging of a soldier, whose case would be as
hard as that of colliers, salters, and other ADSCRIPTI GLEBAE, or
slaves of the soil, were it to be accounted otherwise.  This is
something like the brocard expressed by the learned Sanchez in
his work DE JURE-JURANDO, which you have questionless consulted
upon this occasion.  As for those who have calumniated you by
leasing-making, I protest to Heaven I think they have justly
incurred the penalty of the MEMNONIA LEX, also called LEX
RHEMNIA, which is prelected upon by Tullius in his oration IN
VERREM.  I should have deemed, however, Mr. Waverley, that before
destining yourself to any special service in the army of the
Prince, ye might have inquired what rank the old Bradwardine held
there, and whether he would not have been peculiarly happy to
have had your services in the regiment of horse which he is now
about to levy.'

Edward eluded this reproach by pleading the necessity of giving
an immediate answer to the Prince's proposal, and his uncertainty
at the moment whether his friend the Baron was with the army, or
engaged upon service elsewhere.

This punctilio being settled, Waverley made inquiry after Miss
Bradwardine, and was informed she had come to Edinburgh with
Flora Mac-Ivor, under guard of a party of the Chieftain's men.
This step was indeed necessary, Tully-Veolan having become a very
unpleasant, and even dangerous place of residence for an
unprotected young lady, on account of its vicinity to the
Highlands, and also to one or two large villages, which, from
aversion as much to the Caterans as zeal for presbytery, had
declared themselves on the side of Government, and formed
irregular bodies of partisans, who had frequent skirmishes with
the mountaineers, and sometimes attacked the houses of the
Jacobite gentry in the braes, or frontier betwixt the mountain
and plain.

'I would propose to you,' continued the Baron, 'to walk as far as
my quarters in the Luckenbooths, and to admire in your passage
the High Street, whilk is, beyond a shadow of dubitation, finer
than any street, whether in London or Paris.  But Rose, poor
thing, is sorely discomposed with the firing of the Castle,
though I have proved to her from Blondel and Coehorn, that it is
impossible a bullet can reach these buildings; and, besides, I
have it in charge from His Royal Highness to go to the camp, or
leaguer of our army, to see that the men do CONCLAMARE VASA, that
is, truss up their bag and baggage for to-morrow's march.'

'That will be easily done by most of us,' said Mac-Ivor,
laughing.

'Craving your pardon, Colonel Mac-Ivor, not quite so easily as ye
seem to opine.  I grant most of your folk left the Highlands,
expedited as it were, and free from the incumbrance of baggage;
but it is unspeakable the quantity of useless sprechery which
they have collected on their march, I saw one fellow of yours
(craving your pardon once more) with a pier-glass upon his back.'

'Aye,' said Fergus, still in good humour, 'he would have told
you, if you had questioned him, A GANGING FOOT IS AYE GETTING.--
But come, my dear Baron, you know as well as I, that a hundred
Uhlans, or a single troop of Schmirschitz's Pandours, would make
more havoc in a country than the knight of the mirror and all the
rest of our clans put together.'

'And that is very true likewise,' replied the Baron; 'they are,
as the heathen author says, FEROCIORES IN ASPECTU, MITIORES IN
ACTU, of a horrid and grim visage, but more benign in demeanour
than their physiognomy or aspect might infer.--But I stand here
talking to you two youngsters when I should be in the King's
Park.'

'But you will dine with Waverley and me on your return?  I assure
you, Baron, though I can live like a Highlander when needs must,
I remember my Paris education, and understand perfectly FAIRE LA
MEILLEURE CHERE.'

'And wha the deil doubts it,' quoth the Baron, laughing, 'when ye
bring only the cookery, and the gude toun must furnish the
materials?--'Weel, I have some business in the toun too:  But
I'll join you at three, if the vivers can tarry so long.'

So saying, he took leave of his friends, and went to look after
the charge which had been assigned him.



CHAPTER XLII

A SOLDIER'S DINNER

James of the Needle was a man of his word, when whisky was no
party to the contract; and upon this occasion Callum Beg, who
still thought himself in Waverley's debt, since he had declined
accepting compensation at the expense of mine Host of the
Candlestick's person, took the opportunity of discharging the
obligation, by mounting guard over the hereditary tailor of
Sliochd nan Ivor; and, as he expressed himself, 'targed him
tightly' till the finishing of the job.  To rid himself of this
restraint, Shemus's needle flew through the tartan like
lightning; and as the artist kept chanting some dreadful skirmish
of Fin Macoul, he accomplished at least three stitches to the
death of every hero.  The dress was, therefore, soon ready, for
the short coat fitted the wearer, and the rest of the apparel
required little adjustment.

Our hero having now fairly assumed the 'garb of old Gaul,' well
calculated its it was to give an appearance of strength to a
figure, which, though tall and well-made, was rather elegant than
robust, I hope my fair readers will excuse him if he looked at
himself in the mirror more than once, and could not help
acknowledging that the reflection seemed that of a very handsome
young fellow.  In fact, there was no disguising it.  His light-
brown hair--for he wore no periwig, notwithstanding the universal
fashion of the time--became the bonnet which surmounted it.  His
person promised firmness and agility, to which the ample folds of
the tartan added an air of dignity.  His blue eye seemed of that
kind,

  Which melted in love, and which kindled in war;

and an air of bashfulness, which was in reality the effect of
want of habitual intercourse with the world, gave interest to his
features, without injuring their grace or intelligence.

'He's a pratty man--a very pratty man,' said Evan Dhu (now Ensign
Maccombich) to Fergus's buxom landlady.

'He's vera weel,' said the Widow Flockhart, 'but no naething sae
weel-far'd as your colonel, ensign.'

'I wasna comparing them,' quoth Evan, 'nor was I speaking about
his being weel-favoured; but only that Mr. Waverley looks clean-
made and DELIVER, and like a proper lad of his quarters, that
will not cry barley in a brulzie, And, indeed, he's gleg aneuch
at the broadsword and target, I hae played wi' him mysell at
Glennaquoich, and sae has Vich Ian Vohr, often of a Sunday
afternoon,'

'Lord forgie ye, Ensign Maccombich,' said the alarmed
Presbyterian; 'I'm sure the colonel wad never do the like o'
that!'

'Hout!  hout!  Mrs. Flockhart,' replied the ensign, 'we're young
blude, ye ken; and young saints, auld deils.'

'But will ye fight wi' Sir John Cope the morn, Ensign
Maccombich?'  demanded Mrs. Flockhart of her guest.

'Troth I'se ensure him, an' he'll bide us, Mrs. Flockhart,'
replied the Gael.

'And will ye face thae tearing chields, the dragoons, Ensign
Maccombich?'  again inquired the landlady.

'Claw for claw, as Conan said to Satan, Mrs. Flockhart, and the
deevil tak the shortest nails.'

'And will the colonel venture on the bagganets himsell?'

'Ye may swear it, Mrs. Flockhart; the very first man will he be,
by Saint Phedar.'

'Merciful goodness!  and if he's killed amang the red-coats!'
exclaimed the soft-hearted widow.

'Troth, if it should sae befall, Mrs. Flockhart, I ken ane that
will no be living to weep for him.  But we maun a' live the day,
and have our dinner; and there's Vich Ian Vohr has packed his
DORLACH, and Mr. Waverley's wearied wi' majoring yonder afore the
muckle pier-glass; and that grey auld stoor carle, the Baron o'
Bradwardine, that shot young Ronald of Ballenkeiroch, he's
coming down the close wi' that droghling coghling bailie body
they ca' Macwhupple, just like the Laird o' Kittlegab's French
cook, wi' his turn-spit doggie trindling ahint him, and I am as
hungry as a gled, my bonny dow; sae bid Kate set on the broo',
and do ye put on your pinners, for ye ken Vich Ian Vohr winna sit
down till ye be at the head o' the table;--and dinna forget the
pint bottle o' brandy, my woman.'

This hint produced dinner.  Mrs. Flockhart, smiling in her weeds
like the sun through a mist; took the head of the table, thinking
within herself, perhaps, that she cared not how long the
rebellion lasted, that brought her into company so much above her
usual associates.  She was supported by Waverley and the Baron,
with the advantage of the Chieftain VIS-A-VIS.  The men of peace
and of war, that is, Bailie Macwheeble and Ensign Maccombich,
after many profound conges to their superiors and each other,
took their places on each side of the Chieftain.  Their fare was
excellent, time, place, and circumstances considered, and
Fergus's spirits were extravagantly high.  Regardless of danger,
and sanguine from temper, youth, and ambition, he saw in
imagination all his prospects crowned with success, and was
totally indifferent to the probable alternative of a soldier's
grave.  The Baron apologized slightly for bringing Macwheeble.
They had been providing, he said, for the expenses of the
campaign.  'And, by my faith,' said the old man, 'as I think this
will be my last, so I just end where I began--I hae evermore
found the sinews of war, as a learned author calls the CAISSE
MILITAIRE mair difficult to come by than either its flesh, blood,
or bones.'

'What!  have you raised our only efficient body of cavalry, and
got ye none of the louis d'or out of the DOUTELLE, to help you?'
[The Doutelle was an armed vessel, which brought a small supply
of money and arms from France for the use of the insurgents.]

'No, Glennaquoich; cleverer fellows have been before me.'

'That's a scandal,' said the young Highlander; 'but you will
share what is left of my subsidy:  it will save you an anxious
thought to-night, and will be all one to-morrow, for we shall all
be provided for, one way or other, before the sun sets.'
Waverley, blushing deeply, but with great earnestness, pressed
the same request.

'I thank ye baith, my good lads,' said the Baron, 'but I will not
infringe upon your peculium.  Bailie Macwheeble has provided the
sum which is necessary.'

Here the Bailie shifted and fidgeted about in his seat, and
appeared extremely uneasy.  At length, after several preliminary
hems, and much tautological expression of his devotion to his
honour's service, by night or day, living or dead, he began to
insinuate, 'that the Banks had removed a' their ready cash into
the Castle; that, nae doubt, Sandie Goldie, the silversmith,
would do mickle for his honour; but there was little time to get
the wadset made out; and, doubtless, if his honour Glennaquoich,
or Mr. Waverley, could accommodate'--

'Let me hear of no such nonsense, sir,' said the Baron, in a,
tone which rendered Macwheeble mute, 'but proceed as we accorded
before dinner, if it be your wish to remain in my service.'

To this peremptory order the Bailie, though he felt as if
condemned to suffer a transfusion of blood from his own veins
into those of the Baron, did not presume to make any reply.
After fidgeting a little while longer, however, he addressed
himself to Glennaquoich, and told him, if his honour had mair
ready siller than was sufficient for his occasions in the field,
he could put it out at use for his honour in safe hands, and at
great profit, at this time.

At this proposal Fergus laughed heartily, and answered, when he
had recovered his breath,--'Many thanks, Bailie; but you must
know it is a general custom among us soldiers to make our
landlady our banker.--Here, Mrs. Flockhart,' said he, taking four
or five broad pieces out of a well-filled purse, and tossing the
purse itself, with its remaining contents, into her apron, 'these
will serve my occasions; do you take the rest; be my banker if I
live, and my executor if I die; but take care to give something
to the Highland cailliachs [Old women, on whom devolved the duty
of lamenting for the dead, which the Irish call KEENING.]  that
shall cry the coronach loudest for the last Vich Ian Vohr.'

'It is the TESTAMENTUM MILITARE,' quoth the Baron, 'whilk, amang
the Romans, was privilegiate to be nuncupative.'  But the soft
heart of Mrs. Flockhart was melted within her at the Chieftain's
speech; she set up a lamentable blubbering, and positively
refused to touch the bequest, which Fergus was therefore obliged
to resume.

'Well, then,' said the Chief, 'if I fall, it will go to the
grenadier that knocks my brains out, and I shall take care he
works hard for it.'

Bailie Macwheeble was again tempted to put in his oar; for where
cash was concerned, he did not willingly remain silent.  'Perhaps
he had better carry the gowd to Miss Mac-Ivor, in case of
mortality, or accidents of war.  It might tak the form of a
MORTIS CAUSA donation in the young leddie's favour, and wad cost
but the scrape of a pen to mak it out.'

'The young lady,' said Fergus, 'should such an event happen, will
have other matters to think of than these wretched louis d'or.'

'True--undeniable--there 's nae doubt o' that; but your honour
kens that a full sorrow'--

'Is endurable by most folk more easily than a hungry one?--True,
Bailie, very true; and I believe there may even be some who would
be consoled by such a reflection for the loss of the whole
existing generation.  But there is a sorrow which knows neither
hunger nor thirst; and poor Flora'--He paused, and the whole
company sympathized in his emotion.

The Baron's thoughts naturally reverted to the unprotected state
of his daughter, and the big tear came to the veteran's eye.  'If
I fall, Macwheeble; you have all my papers, and know all my
affairs; be just to Rose.'

The Bailie was a man of earthly mould, after all; a good deal of
dirt and dress about him, undoubtedly, but some kindly and just
feelings he had, especially where the Baron or his young mistress
were concerned.  He set up a lamentable howl.  'If that doleful
day should come, while Duncan Macwheeble had a boddle, it should
be Miss Rose's.  He wald scroll for a plack the sheet, or she
kenn'd what it was to want; if indeed a' the bonnie baronie o'
Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, with the fortalice and manor-place
thereof (he kept sobbing and whining at every pause), tofts,
crofts, mosses, muirs--outfield, infield--buildings--orchards
--dovecots--with the right of net and coble in the water and loch
of Veolan--teinds, parsonage and vicarage--annexis, connexis--
rights of pasturage--fuel, feal, and divot--parts, pendicles, and
pertinents whatsoever--(here he had recourse to the end of his
long cravat to wipe his eyes, which overflowed in spite of him,
at the ideas which this technical jargon conjured up)--all as
more fully described in the proper evidents and titles thereof--
and lying within the parish of Bradwardine, and the shire of
Perth--if, as aforesaid, they must a' pass from my master's child
to Inch-Grabbit, wha's a Whig and a Hanoverian, and be managed by
his doer, Jamie Howie, wha's no fit to be a birlieman, let be a
bailie'--

The beginning of this lamentation really had something affecting,
but the conclusion rendered laughter irresistible.  'Never mind,
Bailie,' said Ensign Maccombich, 'for the gude auld times of
rugging and riving (pulling and tearing) are come back again, an'
Sneckus Mac-Snacbus (meaning, probably, annexis, connexis), and
a' the rest of your friends, maun gie place to the langest
claymore.'

'And that claymore shall be ours, Bailie,' said the Chieftain,
who saw that Macwheeble looked very blank at this intimation.

  We'll give them the metal our mountain affords,
    Lillibulero, bullen a la,
  And in place of broad-pieces we'll pay with broadswords,
    Lero, lero, &c.
  With duns and with debts we will soon clear our score,
    Lillibulero, &c.
  For the man that's thus paid will crave payment no more,
    Lero, Lero, &c.
  [These lines, or something like them, occur in an old magazine
  of the period.]

'But come, Bailie, be not cast down; drink your wine with a
joyous heart; the Baron shall return safe and victorious to
Tully-Veolan, and unite Killancureit's lairdship with his own,
since the cowardly half-bred swine will not turn out for the
Prince like a gentleman.'

'To be sure, they lie maist ewest,' [i.e. contiguous] said the
Bairie, wiping his eyes, 'and should naturally fa' under the same
factory.'

'And I,' proceeded the Chieftain, 'shall take care of myself,
too; 'for you must know, I have to complete a good work here, by
bringing Mrs. Flockhart into the bosom of the Catholic church, or
at least half way, and that is to your Episcopal meeting-house.
Oh, Baron!  if you heard her fine counter-tenor admonishing Kate
and Matty in the morning, you, who understand music, would
tremble at the idea of hearing her shriek in the psalmody of
Haddo's Hole.'

'Lord forgie you, colonel, how ye rin on!  But I hope your
honours will tak tea before ye gang to the palace, and I maun
gang and mask it for you.'

So saying, Mrs. Flockhart left the gentlemen to their own
conversation, which, as might be supposed, turned chiefly upon
the approaching events of the campaign.



CHAPTER XLIII

THE BALL

Ensign Maccombich having gone to the Highland camp upon duty, and
Bailie Macwheeble having retired to digest his dinner and Evan
Dhu's intimation of martial law in some blind change-house,
Waverley, with the Baron and the Chieftain, proceeded to Holyrood
House.  The two last were in full tide of spirits, and the Baron
rallied in his way our hero upon the handsome figure which his
new dress displayed to advantage.  'If you have any design upon
the heart of a bonny Scotch lassie, I would premonish you, when
you address her, to remember and quote the words of Virgilius:--

  Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis,
  Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes:

whilk verses Robertson of Struan, Chief of the Clan Donnochy
(unless the claims of Lude ought to be preferred PRIMO LOCO), has
thus elegantly rendered;

  For cruel love has gartan'd low my leg,
  And clad my hurdies in a philabeg.

Although, indeed, ye wear the trews, a garment whilk I approve
maist of the twa, as mair ancient and seemly.'  'Or rather,' said
Fergus, 'hear my song:

  She wadna hae a Lowland laird,
  Nor be an English lady;
  But she's away with Duncan Graeme,
  And he's row'd her in his plaidy.'

By this time they reached the palace of Holyrood, and were
announced respectively as they entered the apartments.

It is but too well known how many gentlemen of rank, education,
and fortune, took a concern in the ill-fated and desperate
undertaking of 1745.  The ladies, also, of Scotland very
generally espoused the cause of the gallant and handsome young
Prince, who threw himself upon the mercy of his countrymen,
rather like a hero of romance than a calculating politician.  It
is not, therefore, to be wondered that Edward, who had spent the
greater part of his life in the solemn seclusion of Waverley-
Honour, should have been dazzled at the liveliness and elegance
of the scene now exhibited in the long-deserted halls of the
Scottish palace.  The accompaniments, indeed, fell short of
splendour, being such as the confusion and hurry of the time
admitted; still, however, the general effect was striking, and,
the rank of the company considered, might well be called
brilliant.

It was not long before the lover's eye discovered the object of
his attachment.  Flora Mac-Ivor was in the act; of returning to
her seat, near the top of the room, with Rose Bradwardine by her
side.  Among much elegance and beauty, they had attracted a great
degree of the public attention, being certainly two of the
handsomest women present.  The Prince took much notice of both,
particularly of Flora, with whom he danced; a preference which
she probably owed to her foreign education, and command of the
French and Italian languages.

When the bustle attending the conclusion of the dance permitted,
Edward, almost intuitively, followed Fergus to the place where
Miss Mac-Ivor was seated.  The sensation of hope, with which he
had nursed his affection in absence of the beloved object, seemed
to vanish in her presence, and, like one striving to recover the
particulars of a forgotten dream, he would have given the world
at that moment to have recollected the grounds on which he had
founded expectations which now seemed so delusive.  He
accompanied Fergus with downcast eyes, tingling ears, and the
feelings of the criminal, who, while the melancholy cart moves
slowly through the crowds that have assembled to behold his
execution, receives no clear sensation either from the noise
which fills his ears, or the tumult on which he casts his
wandering look.

Flora seemed a little--a very little--affected and discomposed at
his approach.  'I bring you an adopted son of Ivor,' said Fergus.

'And I receive him as a second brother,' replied Flora.

There was a slight emphasis on the word, which would have escaped
every ear but one that was feverish with apprehension.  It was,
however, distinctly marked, and, combined with her whole tone and
manner, plainly intimated, 'I will never think of Mr. Waverley as
a more intimate connexion.'  Edward stopped, bowed, and looked at
Fergus, who bit his lip; a movement of anger, which proved that
he also had put a sinister interpretation on the reception which
his sister had given his friend.  'This, then, is an end of my
day-dream!'  Such was Waverley's first thought, and it was so
exquisitely painful as to banish from his cheek every drop of
blood.

'Good God!'  said Rose Bradwardine, 'he is not yet recovered!'

These words, which she uttered with great emotion, were overheard
by the Chevalier himself, who stepped hastily forward, and,
taking Waverley by the hand, inquired kindly after his health,
and added, that he wished to speak with him.  By a strong and
sudden effort, which the circumstances rendered indispensable,
Waverley recovered himself so far as to follow the Chevalier in
silence to a recess in the apartment.

Here the Prince detained him some time, asking various questions
about the great Tory and Catholic families of England, their
connexions, their influence, and the state of their affections
towards the house of Stuart.  To these queries Edward could not
at any time have given more than general answers, and it may be
supposed that, in the present state of his feelings, his
responses were indistinct even to confusion.  The Chevalier
smiled once or twice at the incongruity of his replies, but
continued the same style of conversation, although he found
himself obliged to occupy the principal share of it, until he
perceived that Waverley had recovered his presence of mind.  It
is probable that this long audience was partly meant to further
the idea which the Prince desired should be entertained among his
followers, that Waverley was a character of political influence.
But it appeared, from his concluding expressions, that he had a
different and good-natured motive, personal to our hero, for
prolonging the conference.  'I cannot resist the temptation,' he
said, 'of boasting of my own discretion as a lady's confidant.
You see, Mr. Waverley, that I know all, and I assure you I am
deeply interested in the affair.  But, my good young friend, you
must put a more severe restraint upon your feelings.  There are
many here whose eyes can see as clearly as mine, but the prudence
of whose tongues may not be equally trusted.'

So saying, he turned easily away, and joined a circle of officers
at a few paces' distance, leaving Waverley to meditate upon his
parting expression, which though not intelligible to him in its
whole purport, was sufficiently so in the caution which the last
word recommended.  Making, therefore, an effort to show himself
worthy of the interest which his new master had expressed, by
instant obedience to his recommendation, he walked up to the spot
where Flora and Miss Bradwardine were still seated, and having
made his compliments to the latter, he succeeded, even beyond his
own expectation, in entering into conversation upon general
topics.

If, my dear reader, thou hast ever happened to take post-horses
at --, or at -- (one at least of which blanks, or more probably
both, you will be able to fill up from an inn near your own
residence), you must have observed, and doubtless with
sympathetic pain, the reluctant agony with which the poor jades
at first apply their galled necks to the collars of the harness.
But when the irresistible arguments of the postboy have prevailed
upon them to proceed a mile or two, they will become callous to
the first sensation; and being warm at the harness, as the said
postboy may term it, proceed as if their withers were altogether
unwrung.  This simile so much corresponds with the state of
Waverley's feelings in the course of this memorable evening, that
I prefer it (especially as being, I trust, wholly original) to
any more splendid illustration with which Byshe's ART OF POETRY
might supply me.

Exertion, like virtue, is its own reward; and our hero had,
moreover, other stimulating motives for persevering in a display
of affected composure and indifference to Flora's obvious
unkindness.  Pride, which supplies its caustic as a useful,
though severe, remedy for the wounds of affection, came rapidly
to his aid.  Distinguished by the favour of a Prince; destined,
he had room to hope, to play a conspicuous part in the revolution
which awaited a mighty kingdom; excelling, probably, in mental
acquirements, and equalling, at least, in personal
accomplishments, most of the noble and distinguished persons with
whom he was now ranked; young, wealthy, and high-born--could he,
or ought he to droop beneath the frown of a capricious beauty?

  O nymph, unrelenting and cold as thou art,
  My bosom is proud as thine own.

With the feeling expressed in these beautiful lines (which,
however, were not then written) [They occur in Miss Seward's fine
verses, beginning--To thy rocks, stormy Lannow, adieu.], Waverley
determined upon convincing Flora that he was not to be depressed.
by a rejection, in which his vanity whispered that perhaps she
did her own prospects as much injustice as his.  And, to aid this
change of feeling, there lurked the secret and unacknowledged
hope, that she might learn to prize his affection more highly
when she did not conceive it to be altogether within her own
choice to attract or repulse it.  There was a mystic tone of
encouragement, also, in the Chevalier's words, though he feared
they only referred to the wishes of Fergus in favour of a union
between him and his sister.  But the whole circumstances of time,
place, and incident, combined at once to awaken his imagination,
and to call upon him for a manly and decisive tone of conduct,
leaving to fate to dispose of the issue.  Should he appear to be
the only one sad and disheartened on the eve of battle, how
greedily would the tale be commented upon by the slander which
had been already but too busy with his fame?  Never, never, he
internally resolved, shall my unprovoked enemies possess such an
advantage over my reputation.

Under the influence of these mixed sensations, and cheered at
times by a smile of intelligence and approbation from the Prince
as he passed the group, Waverley exerted his powers of fancy,
animation, and eloquence, and attracted the general admiration of
the company.  The conversation gradually assumed the tone best
qualified for the display of his talents and acquisitions.  The
gaiety of the evening was exalted in character, rather than
checked, by the approaching dangers of the morrow.  All nerves
were strung for the future, and prepared to enjoy the present.
This mood of mind is highly favourable for the exercise of the
powers of imagination, for poetry, and for that eloquence which
is allied to poetry.  Waverley, as we have elsewhere observed,
possessed at times a wonderful flow of rhetoric; and, on the
present occasion, he touched more than once the higher notes of
feeling, and then again ran off in a wild voluntary of fanciful
mirth.  He was supported and excited by kindred spirits, who felt
the same impulse of mood and time; and even those of more cold
and calculating habits were hurried along by the torrent.  Many
ladies declined the dance, which still went forward, and, under
various pretences, joined the party to which the 'handsome young
Englishman' seemed to have attached himself.  He was presented to
several of the first rank, and his manners, which for the present
were altogether free from the bashful restraint by which, in a
moment of less excitation, they were usually clouded, gave
universal delight.

Flora Mac-Ivor appeared to be the only female present who
regarded him with a degree of coldness and reserve; yet even she
could not suppress a sort of wonder at talents which, in the
course of their acquaintance, she had never seen displayed with
equal brilliancy and impressive effect.  I do not know whether
she might not feel a momentary regret at having taken so decisive
a resolution upon the addresses of a lover, who seemed fitted so
well to fill a high place in the highest stations of society.
Certainly she had hitherto accounted among the incurable
deficiencies of Edward's disposition, the MAUVAISE HONTE, which,
as she had been educated in the first foreign circles, and was
little acquainted with the shyness of English manners, was, in
her opinion, too nearly related to timidity and imbecility of
disposition.  But if a passing wish occurred that Waverley could
have rendered himself uniformly thus amiable and attractive, its
influence was momentary; for circumstances had arisen since they
met, which rendered, in her eyes, the resolution she had formed
respecting him final and irrevocable.

With opposite feelings, Rose Bradwardine bent her whole soul to
listen.  She felt a secret triumph at the public tribute paid to
one, whose merit she had learned to prize too early and too
fondly.  Without a thought of jealousy, without a feeling of
fear, pain, or doubt, and undisturbed by a single selfish
consideration, she resigned herself to the pleasure of observing
the general murmur of applause.  When Waverley spoke, her ear was
exclusively filled with his voice; when others answered, her eye
took its turn of observation, and seemed to watch his reply.
Perhaps the delight which she experienced in the course of that
evening, though transient, and followed by much sorrow, was in
its nature the most pure and disinterested which the human mind
is capable of enjoying.

'Baron,' said the Chevalier, 'I would not trust my mistress in
the company of your young friend.  He is really, though perhaps
somewhat romantic, one of the most fascinating young men whom I
have ever seen.'

'And by my honour, sir,' replied the Baron, 'the lad can
sometimes be as dowff as a sexagenary like myself.  If your Royal
Highness had seen him dreaming and dozing about the banks of
Tully-Veolan like an hypochondriac person, or, as Burton's
ANATOMIA hath it, a phrenesiac or lethargic patient, you would
wonder where he hath sae suddenly acquired all this fine sprack
festivity and jocularity.'

'Truly,' said Fergus Mac-Ivor, 'I think it can only be the
inspiration of the tartans; for, though Waverley be always a
young fellow of sense and honour, I have hitherto often found him
a very absent and inattentive companion.'

'We are the more obliged to him,' said the Prince, 'for having
reserved for this evening qualities which even such intimate
friends had not discovered.--But come, gentlemen, the night
advances, and the business of to-morrow must be early thought
upon.  Each take charge of his fair partner, and honour a small
refreshment with your company.'

He led the way to another suite of apartments, and assumed the
seat and canopy at the head of a long range of tables, with an
air of dignity mingled with courtesy, which well became his high
birth and lofty pretensions.  An hour had hardly flown away when
the musicians played the signal for parting, so well known in
Scotland.'  [Which is, or was wont to be, the old air of 'Good-
night, and joy be with you a'!']

'Good-night, then, said the Chevalier, rising; 'Good-night, and
joy be with you!--Good-night, fair ladies, who have so highly
honoured a proscribed and banished Prince.--Good-night, my brave
friends;--may the happiness we have this evening experienced be
an omen of our return to these our paternal halls, speedily and
in triumph, and of many and many future meetings of mirth and
pleasure in the palace of Holyrood!'

When the Baron of Bradwardine afterwards mentioned this adieu of
the Chevalier, he never failed to repeat, in a melancholy tone,

  Audiit, et voti Phoebus succedere partem
  Mente dedit; partem volueres dispersit in auras,

'which,' as he added, 'is weel rendered into English metre by my
friend Bangour:

  Ae half the prayer, wi' Phoebus grace did find,
  The t'other half he whistled down the wind.'



CHAPTER XLIV

THE MARCH

The conflicting passions and exhausted feelings of Waverley had
resigned him to late but sound repose.  He was dreaming of
Glennaquoich, and had transferred to the halls of Ian nan
Chaistel the festal train which so lately graced those of
Holyrood.  The pibroch too was distinctly heard; and this at
least was no delusion, for the 'proud step of the chief piper' of
the 'chlain Mac-Ivor' was perambulating the court before the door
of his Chieftain's quarters, and, as Mrs. Flockhart, apparently
no friend to his minstrelsy, was pleased to observe, 'garring the
very stane-and-lime wa's dingle wi' his screeching.'  Of course,
it soon became too powerful for Waverley's dream, with which it
had at first rather harmonized.

The sound of Callum's brogues in his apartment (for Mac-Ivor had
again assigned Waverley to his care) was the next note of
parting.  'Winna yere honour bang up?  Vich Ian Vohr and ta
Prince are awa to the lang green glen ahint the clachan, tat they
ca' the King's Park, and mony ane's on his ain shanks the day,
that will be carried on ither folk's ere night.'  [The main body
of the Highland army encamped, or rather bivouacked, in that part
of the King's Park which lies towards the village of
Duddingston.]

Waverley sprang up, and, with Callum's assistance and
instructions, adjusted his tartans in proper costume.  Callum
told him also, 'tat his leather DORLACH wi' the lock on her was
come frae Doune, and she was awa again in the wain wi' Vich Inn
Vohr's walise,'

By this periphrasis Waverley readily apprehended his portmanteau
was intended.  He thought upon the mysterious packet of the maid
of the cavern, which seemed always to escape him when within his
very grasp.  But this was no time for indulgence of curiosity;
and having declined Mrs, Flockhart's compliment of a morning,
i.e. a matutinal dram, being probably the only man in the
Chevalier's army by whom such a courtesy would have been
rejected, he made his adieus, and departed with Callum.

'Callum,' said he, as they proceeded down a dirty close to gain
the southern skirts of the Canongate, 'what shall I do for a
horse?'

'Ta deil ane ye maun think o',' said Callum.  'Vich Ian Vohr's
marching on foot at the head o' his kin (not to say ta Prince,
wha does the like), wi' his target on his shoulder; and ye maun
e'en be neighbour-like.'

'And so I will, Callum--give me my target;--so, there we are
fixed.  How does it look?'

'Like the bra' Highlander tat's painted on the board afore the
mickle change-house they ca' Luckie Middlemass's,' answered
Callum; meaning, I must observe, a high compliment, for, in his
opinion, Luckie Middlemass's sign was an exquisite specimen of
art.  Waverley, however, not feeling the full force of this
polite simile, asked him no further questions.

Upon extricating themselves from the mean and dirty suburbs of
the metropolis, and emerging into the open air, Waverley felt a
renewal both of health and spirits, and turned his recollection
with firmness upon the events of the preceding evening, and with
hope and resolution towards those of the approaching day.

When he had surmounted a small craggy eminence, called St.
Leonard's Hill, the King's Park, or the hollow between the
mountain of Arthur's Seat, and the rising grounds on which the
southern part of Edinburgh is now built, lay beneath him, and
displayed a singular and animating prospect.  It was occupied by
the army of the Highlanders, now in the act of preparing for
their march.  Waverley had already seen something of the kind at
the hunting-match which he attended with Fergus Mac-Ivor; but
this was on a scale of much greater magnitude, and incomparably
deeper interest.  The rocks, which formed the background of the
scene, and the very sky itself, rang with the clang of the
bagpipers, summoning forth, each with his appropriate pibroch,
his chieftain and clan.  The mountaineers, rousing themselves
from their couch under the canopy of heaven, with the hum and
bustle of a confused and irregular multitude, like bees alarmed
and arming in their hives, seemed to possess all the pliability
of movement fitted to execute military manoeuvres.  Their motions
appeared spontaneous and confused, but the result was order and
regularity; so that a general must have praised the conclusion,
though a martinet might have ridiculed the method by which it was
attained.

The sort of complicated medley created by the hasty arrangements
of the various clans under their respective banners, for the
purpose of getting into the order of march, was in itself a gay
and lively spectacle.  They had no tents to strike, having
generally, and by choice, slept upon the open field, although the
autumn was now waning, and the nights began to be frosty.  For a
little space, while they were getting into order, there was
exhibited a changing, fluctuating; and confused appearance of
waving tartans and floating plumes, and of banners displaying the
proud gathering word of Clanronald, GANION COHERIGA (Gainsay who
dares); LOCH-SLOY, the watchword of the Mac-Farlanes; FORTH
FORTUNE, AND FILL THE FETTERS, the motto of the Marquis of
Tuilibardine; BYDAND, that of Lord Lewis Gordon; and the
appropriate signal words and emblems of many other chieftains and
clans.

At length the mixed and wavering multitude arranged themselves
into a narrow and dusky column of great length, stretching
through the whole extent of the valley.  In the front of the
column the standard of the Chevalier was displayed, bearing at
red cross upon a white ground, with the motto TANDEM TRIUMPHANS.
The few cavalry being chiefly Lowland gentry, with their domestic
servants and retainers, formed the advanced guard of the army;
and their standards, of which they had rather too many in respect
of their numbers, were seen waving upon the extreme verge of the
horizon.  Many horsemen of this body, among whom Waverley
accidentally remarked Balmawhapple, and his lieutenant, Jinker
(which last, however, had been reduced, with several others, by
the advice of the Baron of Bradwardine, to the situation of what
he called reformed officers, or reformadoes), added to the
liveliness, though by no means to the regularity, of the scene,
by galloping their horses as fast forward as the press would
permit, to join their proper station in the van.  The
fascinations of the Circes of the High Street, and the potations
of strength with which they had been drenched over night, had
probably detained these heroes within the walls of Edinburgh
somewhat later than was consistent with their morning duty.  Of
such loiterers, the prudent took the longer and circuitous, but
more open route, to attain their place in the march, by keeping
at some distance from the infantry, and making their way through
the enclosures to the right, at the expense of leaping over or
pulling down the dry-stone fences.  The irregular appearance and
vanishing of these small parties of horsemen, as well as the
confusion occasioned by those who endeavoured, though generally
without effect, to press to the front through the crowd of
Highlanders, maugre their curses, oaths, and opposition, added to
the picturesque wildness what it took from the military
regularity of the scene.

While Waverley gazed upon this remarkable spectacle, rendered yet
more impressive by the occasional discharge of cannon-shot from
the Castle at the Highland guards as they were withdrawn from its
vicinity to join their main body, Callum, with his usual freedom
of interference, reminded him that Vich Ian Vohr's folk were
nearly at the head of the column of march, which was still
distant, and that 'they would gang very fast after the cannon
fired.'  Thus admonished, Waverley walked briskly forward, yet
often easting a glance upon the darksome clouds of warriors who
were collected before and beneath him.  A nearer view, indeed,
rather diminished the effect impressed on the mind by the more
distant appearance of the army.  The leading men of each clan
were well armed with broadsword, target, and fusee, to which all
added the dirk, and most the steel pistol.  But these consisted
of gentlemen, that is, relations of the chief, however distant,
and who had an immediate title to his countenance and protection.
Finer and hardier men could not have been selected out of any
army in Christendom; while the free and independent habits which
each possessed, and which each was yet so well taught to subject
to the command of his chief, and the peculiar mode of discipline
adopted in Highland warfare, rendered them equally formidable by
their individual courage and high spirit, and from their rational
conviction of the necessity of acting in unison, and of giving
their national mode of attack the fullest opportunity of success.

But, in a lower rank to these, there were found individuals of an
inferior description, the common peasantry of the Highland
country, who, although they did not allow themselves to be so
called, and claimed often, with apparent truth, to be of more
ancient descent than the masters whom they served, bore,
nevertheless, the livery of extreme penury, being indifferently
accoutred, and worse armed, half naked, stinted in growth, and
miserable in aspect.  Each important clan had some of those
Helots attached to them;--thus, the Mac-Couls, though tracing
their descent from Comhal, the father of Finn or Fingal, were a
sort of Gibeonites, or hereditary servants to the Stewarts of
Appin; the Macbeths, descended from the unhappy monarch of that
name, were subjects to the Morays, and clan Donnochy, or
Robertsons of Athole; and many other examples might be given,
were it not for the risk of hurting any pride of clanship which
may yet be left, and thereby drawing a Highland tempest into the
shop of my publisher.  Now these same Helots, though forced into
the field by the arbitrary authority of the chieftains under whom
they hewed wood and drew water, were, in general, very sparingly
fed, ill dressed, and worse armed.  The latter circumstance was
indeed owing chiefly to the general disarming act, which had been
carried into effect ostensibly through the whole Highlands,
although most of the chieftains contrived to elude-its influence,
by retaining the weapons of their own immediate clansmen, and
delivering up those of less value, which they collected from
these inferior satellites.  It followed, as a matter of course,
that, as we have already hinted, many of these poor fellows were
brought to the field in a very wretched condition.

From this it happened, that, in bodies, the van of which were
admirably well armed in their own fashion, the rear resembled
actual banditti.  Here was a pole-axe, there a sword without a
scabbard; here a gun without a lock, there a scythe set straight
upon a pole; and some had only their dirks, and bludgeons or
stakes pulled out of hedges.  The grim, uncombed, and wild
appearance of these men, most of whom gazed with all the
admiration of ignorance upon the most ordinary production of
domestic art, created surprise in the Lowlands, but it also
created terror.  So little was the condition of the Highlands
known at that late period, that the character and appearance of
their population, while thus sallying forth as military
adventurers, conveyed to the south-country Lowlanders as much
surprise as if an invasion of African Negroes or Esquimaux
Indians had issued forth from the northern mountains of their own
native country.  It cannot therefore be wondered if Waverley, who
had hitherto judged of the Highlanders generally from the samples
which the policy of Fergus had from time to time exhibited,
should have felt damped and astonished at the daring attempt of a
body not then exceeding four thousand men, and of whom not above
half the number, at the utmost, were armed, to change the fate,
and alter the dynasty, of the British kingdoms.

As he moved along the column, which still remained stationary, an
iron gun, the only piece of artillery possessed by the army which
meditated so important a revolution, was fired as the signal of
march.  The Chevalier had expressed a wish to leave this useless
piece of ordnance behind him; but, to his surprise, the Highland
chiefs interposed to solicit that it might accompany their march,
pleading the prejudices of their followers, who, little
accustomed to artillery, attached a degree of absurd importance
to this field-piece, and expected it would contribute essentially
to a victory which they could only owe to their own muskets and
broadswords.  Two or three French artillerymen were therefore
appointed to the management of this military engine, which was
drawn along by a string of Highland ponies, and was, after all,
only used for the purpose of firing signals.  [See Note 25.]

No sooner was its voice heard upon the present occasion, than the
whole line was in motion.  A wild cry of joy from the advancing
battalions rent the air, and was then lost in the shrill clangour
of the bagpipes, as the sound of these, in their turn, was
partially drowned by the heavy tread of so many men put at once
into motion.  The banners glittered and shook as they moved
forward, and the horse hastened to occupy their station as the
advanced guard, and to push on reconnoitring parties to ascertain
and report the motions of the enemy.  They vanished from
Waverley's eye as they wheeled round the base of Arthur's seat,
under the remarkable ridge of basaltic rocks which fronts the
little lake of Duddingston.

The infantry followed in the same direction, regulating their
pace by another body which occupied a road more to the southward.
It cost Edward some exertion of activity to attain the place
which Fergus's followers occupied in the line of march.



CHAPTER XLV

AN INCIDENT GIVES RISE TO UNAVAILING REFLECTIONS

When Waverley reached that part of the column which was filled by
the clan of Mac-Ivor, they halted, formed, and received him with
a triumphant flourish upon the bagpipes, and a loud shout of the
men, most of whom knew him personally, and were delighted to see
him in the dress of their country and of their sept.  'You
shout,' said a Highlander of a neighbouring clan to Evan Dhu, 'as
if the Chieftain were just come to your head.'

MAR E BRAN IS E BRATHAIR, If it be not Bran, it is Bran's
brother,' was the proverbial reply of Maccombich.  [Bran, the
well-known dog of Fingal, is often the theme of Highland proverb
as well as song.]

'Oh, then, it is the handsome Sassenach Duinhe-wassel, that is to
be married to Lady Flora?'

'That may be, or it may not be; and it is neither your matter nor
mine, Gregor.'

Fergus advanced to embrace the volunteer, and afford him a warm
and hearty welcome; but he thought it necessary to apologize for
the diminished numbers of his battalion (which did not exceed
three hundred men), by observing, he had sent a good many out
upon parties.

The real fact, however, was, that the defection of Donald Bean
Lean had deprived him of at least thirty hardy fellows, whose
services he had fully reckoned upon, and that many of his
occasional adherents had been recalled by their several chiefs to
the standards to which they most properly owed their allegiance.
The rival chief of the great northern branch also of his own
clan, had mustered his people, although he had not yet declared
either for the Government or for the Chevalier, and by his
intrigues had in some degree diminished the force with which
Fergus took the field.  To make amends for these disappointments,
it was universally admitted that the followers of Vich Ian Vohr,
in point of appearance, equipment, arms, and dexterity in using
them, equalled the most choice troops which followed the standard
of Charles Edward.  Old Ballenkeiroch acted as his major; and,
with the other officers who had known Waverley when at
Glennaquoich, gave our hero a cordial reception, as the sharer of
their future dangers and expected honours.

The route pursued by the Highland army, after leaving the village
of Duddingston, was for some time the common post-road betwixt
Edinburgh and Haddington, until they crossed the Esk at
Musselburgh, when, instead of keeping the low grounds towards the
sea, they turned more inland, and occupied the brow of the
eminence called Carberry hill, a place already distinguished in
Scottish history as the spot where the lovely Mary surrendered
herself to her insurgent subjects.  This direction was chosen,
because the Chevalier had received notice that the army of the
Government, arriving by sea from Aberdeen, had landed at Dunbar,
and quartered the night before to the west of Haddington, with
the intention of falling down towards the sea-side, and
approaching Edinburgh by the lower coast-road.  By keeping the
height, which overhung that road in many places, it was hoped the
Highlanders might find an opportunity of attacking them to
advantage.  The army therefore halted upon the ridge of Carberry
hill, both to refresh the soldiers, and as a central situation,
from which their march could be directed to any point that the
motions of the enemy might render most advisable.  While they
remained in this position, a messenger arrived in haste to desire
Mac-Ivor to come to the Prince, adding, that their advanced post
had had a skirmish with some of the enemy's cavalry, and that the
Baron of Bradwardine had sent in a few prisoners.

Waverley walked forward out of the line to satisfy his curiosity,
and soon observed five or six of the troopers, who, covered with
dust, had galloped in to announce that the enemy were in full
march westward along the coast.  Passing still a little further
on, he was struck with a groan which issued from a hovel.  He
approached the spot, and heard a voice, in the provincial English
of his native county, which endeavoured, though frequently
interrupted by pain, to repeat the Lord's Prayer.  The voice of
distress always found a ready answer in our hero's bosom.  He
entered the hovel, which seemed to be intended for what is
called, in the pastoral counties of Scotland, a smearing-house;
and in its obscurity Edward could only at first discern a sort of
red bundle; for those who had stripped the wounded man of his
arms, and part of his clothes, had left him the dragoon-cloak in
which he was enveloped.

'For the love of God,' said the wounded man, as he heard
Waverley's step, 'give me a single drop of water!'

'You shall have it,' answered Waverley, at the same time raising
him in his arms, bearing him to the door of the hut, and giving
him some drink from his flask.

'I should know that voice,' said the man; but, looking on
Waverley's dress with a bewildered look,--'no, this is not the
young squire!'

This was the common phrase by which Edward was distinguished on
the estate of Waverley-Honour, and the sound now thrilled to his
heart with the thousand recollections which the well-known
accents of his native country had already contributed to awaken.
'Houghton!'  he said, gazing on the ghastly features which death
was fast disfiguring, 'can this be you?'

'I never thought to hear an English voice again,' said the
wounded man; 'they left me to live or die here as I could, when
they found I would say nothing about the strength of the
regiment.  But, oh, squire!  how could you stay from us so long,
and let us be tempted by that fiend of the pit, Ruffin?--we
should have followed you through flood and fire, to be sure.'

'Ruffin!  I assure you, Houghton, you have been vilely imposed
upon.'

'I often thought so,' said Houghton, 'though they showed us your
very seal; and so Timms was shot, and I was reduced to the
ranks.'

'Do not exhaust your strength in speaking,' said Edward; 'I will
get you a surgeon presently.'

He saw Mac-Ivor approaching, who was now returning from head-
quarters, where he had attended a council of war, and hastened to
meet him.  'Brave news!'  shouted the Chief; 'we shall be at it
in less than two hours.  The Prince has put himself at the head
of the advance, and as he drew his sword, called out, "My
friends, I have thrown away the scabbard." Come, Waverley, we
move instantly.'

'A moment,--a moment; this poor prisoner is dying where shall I
find a surgeon?'

'Why, where should you?  We have none, you know, but two or three
French fellows, who, I believe, are little better than GARCONS
APOTHICAIRES.'

'But the man will bleed to death.'

'Poor fellow!'  said Fergus, in a momentary fit of compassion;
then instantly added, 'But it will be a thousand men's fate
before night; so come along.'

'I cannot; I tell you he is a son of a tenant of my uncle's.'

'Oh, if he's a follower of yours, he must be looked to;

'I'll send Callum to you.  But DIAOUL!-CAEDE MILLIA MOLLIGHEART!'
continued the impatient Chieftain,--'what made an old soldier,
like Bradwardine, send dying men here to cumber us?'

Callum came with his usual alertness; and, indeed, Waverley
rather gained than lost in the opinion of the Highlanders, by his
anxiety about the wounded man.  They would not have understood
the general philanthropy which rendered it almost impossible for
Waverley to have passed any person in such distress; but, as
apprehending that the sufferer was one of his following,
[SCOTTICE for followers.]  they unanimously allowed that
Waverley's conduct was that of a kind and considerate chieftain,
who merited the attachment of his people.  In about a quarter of
an hour poor Humphry breathed his last, praying his young master,
when he returned to Waverley-Honour, to be kind to old Job
Houghton and his dame, and conjuring him not to fight with these
wild petticoat-men against old England.

When his last breath was drawn, Waverley, who had beheld with
sincere sorrow, and no slight tinge of remorse, the final agonies
of mortality, now witnessed for the first time, commanded Callum
to remove the body into the hut.  This the young Highlander
performed, not without examining the pockets of the defunct,
which, however, he remarked, had been pretty well spung'd.  He
took the cloak, however, and proceeding with the provident
caution of a spaniel hiding a bone, concealed it among some
furze, and carefully marked the spot, observing that, if he
chanced to return that way, it would be an excellent rokelay for
his auld mother Elspat.

It was by a considerable exertion that they regained their place
in the marching column, which was now moving rapidly forward to
occupy the high grounds above the village of Tranent, between
which and the sea, lay the purposed march of the opposite army.

This melancholy interview with his late sergeant forced many
unavailing and painful reflections upon Waverley's mind.  It was
clear, from the confession of the man, that Colonel Gardiner's
proceedings had been strictly warranted, and even rendered
indispensable, by the steps taken in Edward's name to induce the
soldiers of his troop to mutiny.  The circumstance of the seal,
he now, for the first time, recollected, and that he had lost it
in the cavern of the robber, Bean Lean.  That the artful villain
had secured it, and used it as the means of carrying on an
intrigue in the regiment, for his own purposes, was sufficiently
evident, and Edward had now little doubt that in the packet
placed in his portmanteau by his daughter, he should find further
light upon his proceedings.  In the meanwhile, the repeated
expostulation of Houghton,--'Ah, squire, why did you leave us?'
rang like a knell in his ears.

'Yes,' he said, 'I have indeed acted towards you with thoughtless
cruelty.  I brought you from your paternal fields, and the
protection of a generous and kind landlord, and when I had
subjected you to all the rigour of military discipline, I shunned
to bear my own share of the burden, and wandered from the duties
I had undertaken, leaving alike those whom it was my business to
protect, and my own reputation, to suffer under the artifices of
villany.  O indolence and indecision of mind!  if not in
yourselves vices, to how much exquisite misery and mischief do
you frequently prepare the way!'



CHAPTER XLVI

THE EVE OF BATTLE

Although the Highlanders marched on very fast, the sun was
declining when they arrived upon the brow of those high grounds
which command an open and extensive plain stretching northward to
the sea, on which are situated, but at a considerable distance
from each other, the small villages of Seaton and Cockenzie, and
the larger one of Preston.  One of the low coast-roads to
Edinburgh passed through this plain, issuing upon it from the
enclosures of Seaton-house, and at the town or village of Preston
again entering the defiles of an enclosed country.  By this way
the English general had chosen to approach the metropolis, both
as most commodious for his cavalry, and being probably of opinion
that, by doing so, he would meet in front with the Highlanders
advancing from Edinburgh in the opposite direction.  In this he
was mistaken; for the sound judgement of the Chevalier, or of
those to whose advice he listened, left the direct passage free,
but occupied the strong ground by which it was overlooked and
commanded.

When the Highlanders reached the heights above the plain
described, they were immediately formed in army of battle along
the brow of the hill.  Almost at the same instant the van of the
English appeared issuing from among the trees and enclosures of
Seaton, with the purpose of occupying the level plain between the
high ground and the sea; the space which divided the armies being
only about half a mile in breadth.  Waverley could plainly see
the squadrons of dragoons issue, one after another, from the
defiles, with their videttes in front, and form upon the plain,
with their front opposed to that of the Prince's army.  They were
followed by a train of field-pieces, which, when they reached the
flank of the dragoons, were also brought into line, and pointed
against the heights.  The march was continued by three or four
regiments of infantry marching in open column, their fixed
bayonets showing like successive hedges of steel, and their arms
glancing like lightning, as, at a signal given, they also at once
wheeled up, and were placed in direct opposition to the
Highlanders.  A second train of artillery, with another regiment
of horse, closed the long march, and formed on the left flank of
the infantry, the whole line facing southward.

While the English army went through these evolutions, the
Highlanders showed equal promptitude and zeal for battle.  As
fast as the clans came upon the ridge which fronted their enemy,
they were formed into line, so that both armies got into complete
order of battle at the same moment.  When this was accomplished,
the Highlanders set up a tremendous yell, which was re-echoed by
the heights behind them.  The regulars, who were in high spirits,
returned a loud shout of defiance, and fired one or two of their
cannon upon an advanced post of the Highlanders.  The latter
displayed great earnestness to proceed instantly to the attack,
Evan Dhu urging to Fergus, by way of argument, that 'the SIDIER
ROY was tottering like an egg upon a staff, and that they had a'
the vantage of the onset, for even a haggis (God bless her!)
could charge down hill.'

But the ground through which the mountaineers must have
descended, although not of great extent, was impracticable in its
character, being not only marshy, but intersected with walls of
dry-stone, and traversed in its whole length by a very broad and
deep ditch, circumstances which must have given the musketry of
the regulars dreadful advantages, before the mountaineers could
have used their swords, on which they were taught to rely.  The
authority of the commanders was therefore interposed to curb the
impetuosity of the Highlanders, and only a few marksmen were sent
down the descent to skirmish with the enemy's advanced posts, and
to reconnoitre the ground.

Here, then, was a military spectacle of no ordinary interest, or
usual occurrence.  The two armies, so different in aspect and
discipline, yet each admirably trained in its own peculiar mode
of war, upon whose conflict the temporary fate at least of
Scotland appeared to depend, now faced each other like two
gladiators in the arena, each meditating upon the mode of
attacking their enemy.  The leading officers, and the general's
staff of each army, could be distinguished in front of their
lines, busied with spy-glasses to watch each other's motions, and
occupied in dispatching the orders and receiving the intelligence
conveyed, by the aides-de-camp and orderly men, who gave life to
the scene by galloping along in different directions as if the
fate of the day depended upon the speed of their horses.  The
space between the armies was at times occupied by the partial and
irregular contests of individual sharpshooters, and a hat or
bonnet was occasionally seen to fall, as a wounded man was borne
off by his comrades.  These, however, were but trifling
skirmishes, for it suited the views of neither party to advance
in that direction.  From the neighbouring hamlets, the peasantry
cautiously showed themselves, as if watching the issue of the
expected engagement; and at no great distance in the bay were two
square-rigged vessels, bearing the English flag, whose tops and
yards were crowded with less timid spectators.

When this awful pause had lasted for a short time, Fergus, with
another chieftain, received orders to detach their clans towards
the village of Preston, in order to threaten the right flank of
Cope's army, and compel him to a change of position.  To enable
him to execute these orders, the Chief of Glennaquoich occupied
the churchyard of Tranent, a commanding situation, and a
convenient place, as Evan Dhu remarked, 'for any gentleman who
might have the misfortune to be killed, and chanced to be curious
about Christian burial.'  To check or dislodge this party, the
English general detached two guns escorted by a strong party of
cavalry.  They approached so near, that Waverley could plainly
recognize the standard of the troop he had formerly commanded,
and hear the trumpets and kettledrums sound the signal of
advance, which he had so often obeyed.  He could hear, too, the
well-known word given in the English dialect, by the equally
well-distinguished voice of the commanding-officer, for whom he
had once felt so much respect.  It was at that instant, that,
looking around him, he saw the wild dress and appearance of his
Highland associates, heard their whispers in an uncouth and
unknown language, looked upon his own dress, so unlike that which
he had worn from his infancy, and wished to awake from what
seemed at the moment a dream, strange, horrible, and unnatural.
'Good God!'  he muttered, 'am I then a traitor to my country, a
renegade to my standard, and a foe, as that poor dying wretch
expressed himself, to my native England?'

Ere he could digest or smother the recollection, the tall
military form of his late commander came full in view, for the
purpose of reconnoitring.  'I can hit him now,' said Callum,
cautiously raising his fusee over the wall under which he lay
couched, at scarce sixty yards' distance.

Edward felt as if he was about to see a parricide committed in
his presence; for the venerable grey hair and striking
countenance of the veteran recalled the almost paternal respect
with which his officers universally regarded him.  But ere he
could say 'Hold!' an aged Highlander, who lay beside Callum Beg,
stopped his arm.  'Spare your shot,' said the seer, 'his hour is
not yet come.  But let him beware of to-morrow.--I see his
winding-sheet high upon his breast.'

Callum, flint to other considerations, was penetrable to
superstition.  He turned pale at the words of the TAISHATR, and
recovered his piece.  Colonel Gardiner, unconscious of the danger
he had escaped, turned his horse round, and rode slowly back to
the front of his regiment.

By this time the regular army had assumed a new line, with one
flank inclined towards the sea, and the other resting upon the
village of Preston; and as similar difficulties occurred in
attacking their new position, Fergus and the rest of the
detachment were recalled to their former post.  This alteration
created the necessity of a corresponding change in General Cope's
army, which was again brought into a line parallel with that of
the Highlanders.  In these manoeuvres on both sides the daylight
was nearly consumed, and both armies prepared to rest upon their
arms for the night in the lines which they respectively occupied.

'There will be nothing done to-night,' said Fergus to his friend
Waverley.  'Ere we wrap ourselves in our plaids, let us go see
what the Baron is doing in the rear of the line.'

When they approached his post, they found the good old careful
officer, after having sent out his night patrols, and posted his
sentinels, engaged in reading the Evening Service of the
Episcopal Church to the remainder of his troop.  His voice was
loud and sonorous, and though his spectacles upon his nose, and
the appearance of Saunders Saunderson, in military array,
performing the functions of clerk, had something ludicrous, yet
the circumstances of danger in which they stood, the military
costume of the audience, and the appearance of their horses,
saddled and picketed behind them, gave an impressive and solemn
effect to the office of devotion.

'I have confessed to-day, ere you were awake,' whispered Fergus
to Waverley; 'yet I am not so strict a Catholic as to refuse to
join in this good man's prayers.'

Edward assented, and they remained till the Baron had concluded
the service.

As he shut the book, 'Now, lads,' said he, 'have at them in the
morning, with heavy hands and light consciences.'  He then kindly
greeted Mac-Ivor and Waverley, who requested to know his opinion
of their situation.  'Why, you know, Tacitus saith, "IN REBUS
BELLICIS MAXIME DOMINATUR FORTUNA," which is equiponderate with
our vernacular adage, "Luck can maist in the mellee."  But credit
me, gentlemen, yon man is not a deacon o' his craft.  He damps
the spirits of the poor lads he commands, by keeping them on the
defensive, whilk of itself implies inferiority or fear.  Now will
they lie on their arms yonder, as anxious and as ill at ease as a
toad under a harrow, while our men will be quite fresh and blithe
for action in the morning.  Well, goodnight.--One thing troubles
me, but if to-morrow goes well off, I will consult you about it,
Glennaquoich.'--

'I could almost apply to Mr. Bradwardine the character which
Henry gives of Fluellen,' said Waverley, as his friend and he
walked towards their BIVOUAC:

  Though it appears a little out of fashion,
  There is much care and valour in this 'Scotchman.'

'He has seen much service,' answered Fergus, 'and one is
sometimes astonished to find how much nonsense and reason are
mingled in his composition, I wonder what can be troubling his
mind--probably something about Rose.--Hark!  the English are
setting their watch.'

The roll of the drum and shrill accompaniment of the fifes
swelled up the hill-died away--resumed its thunder--and was at
length hushed.  The trumpets and kettledrums of the cavalry were
next heard to perform the beautiful and wild point of war
appropriated as a signal for that piece of nocturnal duty, and
then finally sank upon the wind with a shrill and mournful
cadence.

The friends, who had now reached their post, stood and looked
round them ere they lay down to rest.  The western sky twinkled
with stars, but a frost-mist, rising from the ocean, covered the
eastern horizon, and rolled in white wreaths along the plain
where the adverse army lay couched upon their arms.  Their
advanced posts were pushed as far as the side of the great ditch
at the bottom of the descent, and had kindled large fires at
different intervals, gleaming with obscure and hazy lustre
through the heavy fog which encircled them with a doubtful halo.

The Highlanders, 'thick as leaves in Vallombrosa,' lay stretched
upon the ridge of the hill, buried (excepting their sentinels) in
the most profound repose.  'How many of these brave fellows will
sleep more soundly before to-morrow night, Fergus!'  said
Waverley, with an involuntary sigh.

'You must not think of that,' answered Fergus, whose ideas were
entirely military.  'You must only think of your sword, and by
whom it was given.  All other reflections are now TOO LATE.'

With the opiate contained in this undeniable remark, Edward
endeavoured to lull the tumult of his conflicting feelings.  The
Chieftain and he, combining their plaids, made a comfortable and
warm couch.  Callum, sitting down at their head (for it was his
duty to watch upon the immediate person of the Chief), began a
long mournful song in Gaelic, to a low and uniform tune, which,
like the sound of the wind at a distance, soon lulled them to
sleep.



CHAPTER XLVII

THE CONFLICT

When Fergus Mac-Ivor and his friend had slept for a few hours,
they were awakened, and summoned to attend the Prince.  The
distant village-clock was heard to toll three as they hastened to
the place where he lay.  He was already surrounded by his
principal officers and the chiefs of clans.  A bundle of peas-
straw, which had been lately his couch, now served for his seat.
Just as Fergus reached the circle, the consultation had broken
up.  'Courage, my brave friends!'  said the Chevalier, 'and each
one put himself instantly at the head of his command; a faithful
friend [See Note 26.]  has offered to guide us by a practicable,
though narrow and circuitous route, which, sweeping to our right,
traverses the broken ground and morass, and enables us to gain
the firm and open plain, upon which the enemy are lying.  This
difficulty surmounted, Heaven and your good swords must do the
rest.'

The proposal spread unanimous joy, and each leader hastened to
get his men into order with as little noise as possible.  The
army, moving by its right from off the ground on which they had
rested, soon entered the path through the morass, conducting
their march with astonishing silence and great rapidity.  The
mist had not risen to the higher grounds, so that for some time
they had the advantage of starlight.  But this was lost as the
stars faded before approaching day, and the head of the marching
column, continuing its descent, plunged as it were into the heavy
ocean of fog, which rolled its white waves over the whole plain,
and over the sea by which it was bounded.  Some difficulties were
now to be encountered, inseparable from darkness,--a narrow,
broken, and marshy path, and the necessity of preserving union in
the march.  These, however, were less inconvenient to
Highlanders, from their habits of life, than they would have been
to any other troops, and they continued a steady and swift
movement.

As the clan of Ivor approached the firm ground, following the
track of those who preceded them, the challenge of a patrol was
heard through the mist, though they could not see the dragoon by
whom it was made--'Who goes there?'

'Hush!'  cried Fergus, 'hush!--Let none answer, as he values his
life.--Press forward!'  and they continued their march with
silence and rapidity.

The patrol fired his carabine upon the body, and the report was
instantly followed by the clang of his horse's feet as he
galloped off.  'HYLAX IN LIMINE LATRAT,' said the Baron of
Bradwardine, who heard the shot; 'that loon will give the alarm.'

The clan of Fergus had now gained the firm plain, which had
lately borne a large crop of corn.  But the harvest was gathered
in, and the expense was unbroken by tree, bush, or interruption
of any kind.  The rest of the army were following fast, when they
heard the drums of the enemy beat the general.  Surprise,
however, had made no part of their plan, so they were not
disconcerted by this intimation that the foe was upon his guard
and prepared to receive them.  It only hastened their
dispositions for the combat, which were very simple.

The Highland army, which now occupied the eastern end of the wide
plain, or stubble field, so often referred to, was drawn up in
two lines, extending from the morass towards the sea.  The first
was destined to charge the enemy, the second to act as a reserve.
The few horse, whom the Prince headed in person, remained between
the two lines.  The Adventurer had intimated a resolution to
charge in person at the head of his first line; but his purpose
was deprecated by all around him, and he was with difficulty
induced to abandon it.

Both lines were now moving forward, the first prepared for
instant combat.  The clans of which it was composed, formed each
a sort of separate phalanx, narrow in front, and in depth ten,
twelve, or fifteen files, according to the strength of the
following.  The best armed and best born, for the words were
synonymous, were placed in front of each of these irregular
subdivisions.  The others in the rear shouldered forward the
front, and by their pressure added both physical impulse, and
additional ardour and confidence, to those who were first to
encounter the danger.

'Down with your plaid, Waverley,' cried Fergus, throwing off his
own; 'we'll win silks for our tartans before the sun is above the
sea.'

The clansmen on every side stripped their plaids, prepared their
arms, and there was an awful pause of about three minutes, during
which the men, pulling off their bonnets, raised their faces to
heaven, and uttered a short prayer; then pulled their bonnets
over their brows, and began to move forward at first slowly.
Waverley felt his heart at that moment throb as it would have
burst from his bosom.  It was not fear, it was not ardour,--it
was a compound of both, a new and deeply energetic impulse, that
with its first emotion chilled and astounded, then fevered and
maddened his mind, The sounds around him combined to exalt his
enthusiasm; the pipes played, and the clans rushed forward, each
in its own dark column.  As they advanced they mended their pace,
and the muttering sounds of the men to each other began to swell
into a wild cry.

At this moment, the sun, which was now risen above the horizon,
dispelled the mist.  The vapours rose like a curtain, and showed
the two armies in the act of closing.  The line of the regulars
was formed directly fronting the attack of the Highlanders; it
glittered with the appointments of a complete army, and was
flanked by cavalry and artillery.  But the sight impressed no
terror on the assailants.

'Forward, sons of Ivor,' cried their Chief, 'or the Camerons will
draw the first blood!'--They rushed on with a tremendous yell.

The rest is well known.  The horse, who were commanded to charge
the advancing Highlanders in the flank, received an irregular
fire from their fusees as they ran on, and, seized with a
disgraceful panic, wavered, halted, disbanded, and galloped from
the field.  The artillerymen, deserted by the cavalry, fled after
discharging their pieces, and the Highlanders, who dropped their
guns when fired, and drew their broadswords, rushed with headlong
fury against the infantry.

It was at this moment of confusion and terror, that Waverley
remarked an English officer, apparently of high rank, standing
alone and unsupported by a field-piece, which, after the flight
of the men by whom it was wrought, he had himself levelled and
discharged against the clan of Mac-Ivor, the nearest group of
Highlanders within his aim.  Struck with his tall, martial
figure, and eager to save him from inevitable destruction,
Waverley outstripped for an instant even the speediest of the
warriors, and, reaching the spot first, called to him to
surrender.  The officer replied by a thrust with his sword, which
Waverley received in his target, and in turning it aside the
Englishman's weapon broke.  At the same time the battle-axe of
Dugald Mahony was in the act of descending upon the officer's
head.  Waverley intercepted and prevented the blow, and the
officer, perceiving further resistance unavailing, and struck
with Edward's generous anxiety for his safety, resigned the
fragment of his sword, and was committed by Waverley to Dugald,
with strict charge to use him well, and not to pillage his
person, promising him, at the same time, full indemnification for
the spoil.

On Edward's right, the battle for a few minutes raged fierce and
thick.  The English infantry, trained in the wars in Flanders,
stood their ground with great courage.  But their extended files
were pierced and broken in many places by the close masses of the
clans; and in the personal struggle which ensued, the nature of
the Highlanders' weapons, and their extraordinary fierceness and
activity, gave them a decided superiority over those who had been
accustomed to trust much to their array and discipline, and felt
that the one was broken and the other useless.  Waverley, as he
cast his eyes towards this scene of smoke and slaughter, observed
Colonel Gardiner, deserted by his own soldiers in spite of all
his attempts to rally them, yet spurring his horse through the
field to take the command of a small body of infantry, who, with
their backs arranged against the wall of his own park (for his
house was close by the field of battle), continued a desperate
and unavailing resistance.  Waverley could perceive that he had
already received many wounds, his clothes and saddle being marked
with blood.  To save this good and brave man, became the instant
object of his most anxious exertions.  But he could only witness
his fall.  Ere Edward could make his way among the Highlanders,
who, furious and eager for spoil, now thronged upon each other,
he saw his former commander brought from his horse by the blow of
a scythe, and beheld him receive, while on the ground, more
wounds than would have let out twenty lives.  When Waverley came
up, however, perception had not entirely fled.  The dying warrior
seemed to recognize Edward, for he fixed his eye upon him with an
upbraiding, yet sorrowful look, and appeared to struggle for
utterance.  But he felt that death was dealing closely with him,
and resigning his purpose, and folding his hands as if in
devotion, he gave up his soul to his Creator.  The look with
which he regarded Waverley in his dying moments did not strike
him so deeply at that crisis of hurry and confusion, as when it
recurred to his imagination at the distance of some time.  [See
Note 27.]

Loud shouts of triumph now echoed over the whole field.  The
battle was fought and won, and the whole baggage, artillery, and
military stores of the regular army remained in possession of the
victors.  Never was a victory more complete.  Scarce any escaped
from the battle, excepting the cavalry, who had left it at the
very onset, and even these were broken into different parties and
scattered all over the country.  So far as our tale is concerned,
we have only to relate the fate of Balmawhapple, who, mounted on
a horse as headstrong and stiff-necked as his rider, pursued the
flight of the dragoons above four miles from the field of battle,
when some dozen of the fugitives took heart of grace, turned
round, and, cleaving his skull with their broadswords, satisfied
the world that the unfortunate gentleman had actually brains, the
end of his life thus giving proof of a fact greatly doubted
during its progress.  His death was lamented by few.  Most of
those who knew him agreed in the pithy observation of Ensign
Maccombich, that there 'was mair TINT (lost) at Sheriff-Muir.'
His friend, Lieutenant Jinker, bent his eloquence only to
exculpate his favourite mare from any share in contributing to
the catastrophe.  'He had tauld the laird a thousand times,' he
said, 'that it was a burning shame to put a martingale upon the
puir thing, when he would needs ride her wi' a curb of half a
yard lang; and that he could na but bring himsell (not to say
her) to some mischief, by flinging her down, or otherwise;
whereas, if he had had a wee bit rinnin ring on the snaffle, she
wad ha' rein'd as cannily as a cadger's pownie.'

Such was the elegy of the Laird of Balmawhapple.  [See Note 28.]



CHAPTER XLVIII

AN UNEXPECTED EMBARRASSMENT

When the battle was over, and all things coming into order, the
Baron of Bradwardine, returning from the duty of the day, and
having disposed those under his command in their proper stations,
sought the Chieftain of Glennaquoich and his friend Edward
Waverley.  He found the former busied in determining disputes
among his clansmen about points of precedence and deeds of
valour, besides sundry high and doubtful questions concerning
plunder.  The most important of the last respected the property
of a gold watch, which had once belonged to some unfortunate
English officer.  The party against whom judgement was awarded
consoled himself by observing, 'She (i.e. the watch, which he
took for a living animal) died the very night Vich Ian Vohr gave
her to Murdock;' the machine having, in fact, stopped for want of
winding up.

It was just when this important question was decided, that the
Baron of Bradwardine, with a careful and yet important expression
of countenance, joined the two young men.  He descended from his
reeking charger, the care of which he recommended to one of his
grooms.  'I seldom ban, sir,' said he to the man; 'but if you
play any of your hound's-foot tricks, and leave puir Berwick
before he's sorted, to rin after spuilzie, deil be wi' me if I do
not; give your craig a thraw.   He then stroked with great
complacency the animal which had borne him through the fatigues
of the day, and having taken a tender leave of him,--'Weel, my
good young friends, a glorious and decisive victory,' said he;
'but these loons of troopers fled ower soon.  I should have liked
to have shown you the true points of the PRAELIUM EQUESTRE, or
equestrian combat, whilk their cowardice has postponed, and which
I hold to be the pride and terror of warfare.  Weel, I have
fought once more in this old quarrel, though I admit I could not
be so far BEN as you lads, being that it was my point of duty to
keep together our handful of horse.  And no cavalier ought in any
wise to begrudge honour that befalls his companions, even though
they are ordered upon thrice his danger, whilk, another time, by
the blessing of God, may be his own case.--But, Glennaquoich, and
you, Mr. Waverley, I pray ye to give me your best advice on a
matter of mickle weight, and which deeply affects the honour of
the house of Bradwardine.--I crave your pardon, Ensign
Maccombich, and yours, Inveraughlin, and yours, Edderalshendrach,
and yours, sir.'

The last person he addressed was Ballenkeiroch, who, remembering
the death of his son, loured on him with a look of savage
defiance.  The Baron, quick as lightning at taking umbrage, had
already bent his brow, when Glennaquoich dragged his major from
the spot, and remonstrated with him, in the authoritative tone of
a chieftain, on the madness of reviving a quarrel in such a
moment.

'The ground is cumbered with carcases,' said the old mountaineer,
turning sullenly away; 'ONE MORE would hardly have been kenn'd
upon it; and if it wasna for yoursell, Vich Ian Vohr, that one
should be Bradwardine's or mine.'

The chief soothed while he hurried him away; and then returned to
the Baron.  'It is Ballenkeiroch,' he said, in an under and
confidential voice, 'father of the young man who fell eight years
since in the unlucky affair at the Mains.'

'Ah!'  said the Baron, instantly relaxing the doubtful sternness
of his features, 'I can take mickle frae a man to whom I have
unhappily rendered sie a displeasure as that.  Ye were right to
apprize me, Glennaquoich; he may look as black as midnight at
Martinmas ere Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine shall say he does him
wrang.  Ah!  I have nae male lineage, and I should bear with one
I have made childless, though you are aware the blood-wit was
made up to your ain satisfaction by assythment, and that I have
since expedited letters of slains.--Weel, as I have said, I have
no male issue, and yet it is needful that I maintain the honour
of my house; and it is on that score I prayed ye for your
peculiar and private attention,'

The two young men awaited to hear him in anxious curiosity.

'I doubt na, lads,' he proceeded, 'but your education has been
sae seen to, that ye understand the true nature of the feudal
tenures?'

Fergus, afraid of an endless dissertation, answered, 'Intimately,
Baron,' and touched Waverley, as a signal to express no
ignorance.

'And ye are aware, I doubt not, that the holding of the Barony of
Bradwardine is of a nature alike honourable and peculiar, being
blanch (which Craig opines ought to be Latinated BLANCUM, or
rather FRANCUM, a free holding) PRO SERVITIO DETRAHENDI, SEU
EXUENDI, CALIGAS REGIS POST BATTALIAM.'  Here Fergus turned his
falcon eye upon Edward, with an almost imperceptible rise of his
eyebrow, to which his shoulders corresponded in the same degree
of elevation.  'Now, twa points of dubitation occur to me upon
this topic.  First, whether this service, or feudal homage, be at
any event due to the person of the Prince, the words being, PER
EXPRESSUM, CALIGAS REGIS, the boots of the king himself; and I
pray your opinion anent that particular before we proceed
further.'

'Why, he is Prince Regent,' answered Mac-Ivor, with laudable
composure of countenance; 'and in the court of France all the
honours are rendered to the person of the Regent which are due to
that of the King.  Besides, were I to pull off either of their
boots, I would render that service to the young Chevalier ten
times more willingly than to his father.'

'Aye, but I talk not of personal predilections.  However, your
authority is of great weight as to the usages of the court of
France:  and doubtless the Prince, as ALTER EGO, may have a right
to claim the HOMAGIUM of the great tenants of the crown, since
all faithful subjects are commanded, in the commission of
regency, to respect him as the king's own person.  Far,
therefore, be it from me to diminish the lustre of his authority,
by withholding this act of homage, so peculiarly calculated to
give it splendour; for I question if the Emperor of Germany hath
his boots taken off by a free baron of the empire.  But here
lieth the second difficulty--The Prince wears no boots, but
simply brogues and trews.'

This last dilemma had almost disturbed Fergus's gravity.

'Why,' said he, 'you know, Baron, the proverb tells us, "It's ill
taking the breeks off a Highlandman,"--and the boots are here in
the same predicament.'

'The word CALIGAE, however,' continued the Baron, 'though I
admit, that, by family tradition, and even in our ancient
evidents, it is explained LIE BOOTS, means, in its primitive
sense, rather sandals; and Caius Caesar, the nephew and successor
of Caius Tiberius, received the agnomen of Caigula, A CALIGULIS,
SIVE CALIGIS LEVIORIBUS, QUIBUS ADOLESCENTIOR USUS FUERAT IN
EXERCITU GERMANICI PATRIS SUI.  And the CALIGAE were also proper
to the monastic bodies; for we read in an ancient Glossarium,
upon the rule of St. Benedict, in the Abbey of St. Amand, that
CALIGAE were tied with latchets.'

'That will apply to the brogues,' said Fergus.

'It will so, my dear Glennaquoich;--and the words are express:
CALIGAE DICTAE SUNT QUIA LIGANTUR; NAM SOCCI NON LIGANTUR, SED
TANTUM INTROMITTUNTUR; that is, CALIGAE are denominated from the
ligatures wherewith they are bound; whereas SOCCI, which may be
analogous to our mules, whilk the English denominate slippers,
are only slipped upon the feet, The words of the charter are also
alternative,--EXUERE, SEU DETRAHERE; that is, to UNDO, as in the
case of sandals or brogues; and to PULL OF, as we say
vernacularly, concerning boots.  Yet I would we had more light;
but I fear there is little chance of finding hereabout any
erudite author DE RE VESTIARIA.'

'I should doubt it very much,' said the Chieftain, looking around
on the straggling Highlanders, who were returning loaded with
spoils of the slain, 'though the RES VESTIARIA itself seems to be
in some request at present.'

This remark coming within the Baron's idea of jocularity, he
honoured it with a smile, but immediately resumed what to him
appeared very serious business.  'Bailie Macwheeble indeed holds
an opinion, that this honorary service is due, from its very
nature, SI PETATUR TANTUM; only if his Royal Highness shall
require of the great tenant of the crown to perform that personal
duty; and indeed he pointed out the case in Dirleton's DOUBTS AND
QUERIES, Grippit VERSUS Spicer, anent the eviction of an estate
OB NON SOLUTUM CANONEM, that is, for non-payment of a feu-duty of
three peppercorns a year, whilk were taxt to be worth seven-
eighths of a penny Scots, in whilk the defender was assoilzied.
But I deem it safest, wi' your good favour, to place myself in
the way of rendering the Prince this service, and to proffer
performance thereof; and I shall cause the Bailie to attend with
a schedule of a protest, whilk he has here prepared (taking out a
paper), intimating, that if it shall be his Royal Highness's
pleasure to accept of other assistance at pulling off his CALIGAE
(whether the same shall be rendered boots or brogues) save that
of the said Baron of Bradwardine, who is in presence ready and
willing to perform the same, it shall in no wise impinge upon or
prejudice the right of the said Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine to
perform the said service in future; nor shall it give any
esquire, valet of the chamber, squire, or page, whose assistance
it may please his Royal Highness to employ, any right, title, or
ground, for evicting from the said Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine the
estate and barony of Bradwardine, and others held as aforesaid,
by the due and faithful performance thereof.'

Fergus highly applauded this arrangement; and the Baron took a
friendly leave of them, with a smile of contented importance upon
his visage.

'Long live our dear friend the Baron,' exclaimed the Chief, as
soon as he was out of hearing, 'for the most absurd original that
exists north of the Tweed!  I wish to heaven I had recommended
him to attend the circle this evening with a boot-ketch under his
arm.  I think he might have adopted the suggestion, if it had
been made with suitable gravity.'

'And how can you take pleasure in making a man of his worth so
ridiculous?'

'Begging pardon, my dear Waverley, you are as ridiculous as he.
Why, do you not see that the man's whole mind is wrapped up in
this ceremony?  He has heard and thought of it since infancy, as
the most august privilege and ceremony in the world; and I doubt
not but the expected pleasure of performing it was a principal
motive with him for taking up arms.  Depend upon it, had I
endeavoured to divert him from exposing himself, he would have
treated me as an ignorant conceited coxcomb, or perhaps might
have taken a fancy to cut my throat; a pleasure which he once
proposed to himself upon some point of etiquette, not half so
important, in his eyes, as this matter of boots or brogues, or
whatever the CALIGAE shall finally be pronounced by the learned.
But I must go to head-quarters to prepare the Prince for this
extraordinary scene.  My information will be well taken, for it
will give him a hearty laugh at present, and put him on his guard
against laughing, when it might be very MAL-A-PROPOS.  So, AU
REVOIR, my dear Waverley.'



CHAPTER XLIX

THE ENGLISH PRISONER

The first occupation of Waverley, after he departed from the
Chieftain, was to go in quest of the officer whose life he had
saved.  He was guarded, along with his companions in misfortune,
who were very numerous, in a gentleman's house near the field of
battle.

On entering the room where they stood crowded together, Waverley
easily recognized the object of his visit, not only by the
peculiar dignity of his appearance, but by the appendage of
Dugald Mahony, with his battle-axe, who had stuck to him from the
moment of his captivity, as if he had been skewered to his side.
This close attendance was, perhaps, for the purpose of securing
his promised reward from Edward, but it also operated to save the
English gentleman from being plundered in the scene of general
confusion; for Dugald sagaciously argued, that the amount of the
salvage which he might be allowed, would be regulated by the
state of the prisoner, when he should deliver him over to
Waverley, He hastened to assure Waverley, therefore, with more
words than he usually employed, that he had 'keepit ta SIDIER ROY
haill, and that he wasna a plack the waur since the fery moment
when his honour forbad her to gie him a bit clamhewit wi' her
Lochaber-axe.'

Waverley assured Dugald of a liberal recompense, and, approaching
the English officer, expressed his anxiety to do anything which
might contribute to his convenience under his present unpleasant
circumstances.

'I am not so inexperienced a soldier, sir,' answered the
Englishman, 'as to complain of the fortune of war.  I am only
grieved to see those scenes acted in our own island, which I have
often witnessed elsewhere with comparative indifference.'

'Another such day as this,' said Waverley, 'and I trust the cause
of your regrets will be removed, and all will again return to
peace and order.'

The officer smiled and shook his head.  'I must not forget my
situation so far as to attempt a formal confutation of that
opinion; but, notwithstanding your success, and the valour which
achieved it, you have undertaken a task to which your strength
appears wholly inadequate.'

At this moment Fergus pushed into the press.

'Come, Edward, come along; the Prince has gone to Pinkie-house
for the night; and we must follow, or lose the whole ceremony of
the CALIGAE.  Your friend, the Baron, has been guilty of a great
piece of cruelty; he has insisted upon dragging Bailie Macwheeble
out to the field of battle.  Now you must know the Bailie's
greatest horror is an armed Highlander, or a loaded gun; and
there he stands, listening to the Baron's instructions concerning
the protest; ducking his head like a sea-gull at the report of
every gun and pistol that our idle boys are firing upon the
fields; and undergoing, by way of penance, at every symptom of
flinching, a severe rebuke from his patron, who would not admit
the discharge of a whole battery of cannon, within point-blank
distance, as an apology for neglecting a discourse, in which the
honour of his family is interested.

'But how has Mr. Bradwardine got him to venture so far?'  said
Edward.

'Why, he had come as far as Musselburgh, I fancy, in hopes of
making some of our wills; and the peremptory commands of the
Baron dragged him forward to Preston after the battle was over.
He complains of one or two of our ragamuffins having put him in
peril of his life, by presenting their pieces at him; but as they
limited his ransom to an English penny, I don't think we need
trouble the provost-marshal upon that subject.  So, come along,
Waverley.'

'Waverley!'  said the English officer, with great emotion; 'the
nephew of Sir Everard Waverley, of --shire?'

'The same, sir,' replied our hero, somewhat surprised at the tone
in which he was addressed.

'I am at once happy and grieved,' said the prisoner, 'to have met
with you.'

'I am ignorant, sir,' answered Waverley, 'how I have deserved so
much interest.'

'Did your uncle never mention a friend called Talbot?'

'I have heard him talk with great regard of such a person,'
replied Edward; 'a colonel, I believe, in the army, and the
husband of Lady Emily Blandeville; but I thought Colonel Talbot
had been abroad.'

'I am just returned,' answered the officer; 'and being in
Scotland, thought it my duty to act where my services promised to
be useful.  Yes, Mr. Waverley, I am that Colonel Talbot, the
husband of the lady you have named; and I am proud to
acknowledge, that I owe alike my professional rank and my
domestic happiness to your generous and noble-minded relative.
Good God!  that I should find his nephew in such a dress, and
engaged in such a cause!'

'Sir,' said Fergus, haughtily, 'the dress and cause are those of
men of birth and honour.'

'My situation forbids me to dispute your assertion,' said Colonel
Talbot; 'otherwise it were no difficult matter to show, that
neither courage nor pride of lineage can gild a bad cause.  But,
with Mr. Waverley's permission, and yours, sir, if yours also
must be asked, I would willingly speak a few words with him on
affairs connected with his own family.'

'Mr. Waverley, sir, regulates his own motions.  You will follow
me, I suppose, to Pinkie,' said Fergus, turning to Edward, 'when
you have finished your discourse with this new acquaintance?'  So
saying, the Chief of Glennaquoich adjusted his plaid with rather
more than his usual air of haughty assumption, and left the
apartment.

The interest of Waverley readily procured for Colonel Talbot the
freedom of adjourning to a large garden belonging to his place of
confinement.  They walked a few paces in silence, Colonel Talbot
apparently studying how to open what he had to say; at length he
addressed Edward.

'Mr. Waverley, you have this day saved my life; and yet I would
to God that I had lost it, ere I had found you wearing the
uniform and cockade of these men.'

'I forgive your reproach, Colonel Talbot; it is well meant, and
your education and prejudices render it natural.  But there is
nothing extraordinary in finding a man, whose honour has been
publicly and unjustly assailed, in the situation which promised
most fair to afford him satisfaction on his calumniators.'

'I should rather say, in the situation most likely to confirm the
reports which they have circulated,' said Colonel Talbot, 'by
following the very line of conduct ascribed to you.  Are you
aware, Mr. Waverley, of the infinite distress, and even danger,
which your present conduct has occasioned to your nearest
relatives?'

'Danger!'

'Yes, sir, danger.  When I left England, your uncle and father
had been obliged to find bail to answer a charge of treason, to
which they were only admitted by the exertion of the most
powerful interest.  I came down to Scotland, with the sole
purpose of rescuing you from the gulf into which you have
precipitated yourself; nor can I estimate the consequences to
your family, of your having openly joined the rebellion, since
the very suspicion of your intention was so perilous to them.
Most deeply do I regret that I did not meet you before this last
and fatal error.'

'I am really ignorant,' said Waverley, in a tone of reserve, 'why
Colonel Talbot should have taken so much trouble on my account.'

'Mr. Waverley,' answered Talbot, 'I am dull at apprehending
irony; and therefore I shall answer your words according to their
plain meaning.  I am indebted to your uncle for benefits greater
than those which a son owes to a father.  I acknowledge to him
the duty of a son; and as I know there is no manner in which I
can requite his kindness so well as by serving you, I will serve
you, if possible, whether you will permit me or no.  The personal
obligation which you have this day laid me under (although in
common estimation as great as one human being can bestow on
another) adds nothing to my zeal on your behalf; nor can that
zeal be abated by any coolness with which you may please to
receive it.'

'Your intentions may be kind, sir,' said Waverley, drily; 'but
your language is harsh, or at least peremptory.'

'On my return to England,' continued Colonel Talbot, 'after long
absence, I found your uncle, Sir Everard Waverley, in the custody
of a king's messenger, in consequence of the suspicion brought
upon him by your conduct.  He is my oldest friend--how often
shall I repeat it?--my best benefactor; he sacrificed his own
views of happiness to mine--he never uttered a word, he never
harboured a thought, that benevolence itself might not have
thought or spoken.  I found this man in confinement, rendered
harsher to him by his habits of life, his natural dignity of
feeling, and--forgive me, Mr. Waverley--by the cause through
which this calamity had come upon him.  I cannot disguise from
you my feelings upon this occasion; they were most painfully
unfavourable to you.  Having, by my family interest, which you
probably know is not inconsiderable, succeeded in obtaining Sir
Everard's release, I set out for Scotland.  I saw Colonel
Gardiner, a man whose fate alone is sufficient to render this
insurrection for ever execrable.  In the course of conversation
with him, I found, that, from late circumstances, from a re-
examination of the persons engaged in the mutiny, and from his
original good opinion of your character, he was much softened
towards you; and I doubted not, that if I could be so fortunate
as to discover you, all might yet be well.  But this unnatural
rebellion has ruined all.  I have, for the first time in a long
and active military life, seen Britons disgrace themselves by a
panic flight, and that before a foe without either arms or
discipline:  and now I find the heir of my dearest friend--the
son, I may say, of his affections--sharing a triumph, for which
he ought the first to have blushed.  Why should I lament
Gardiner?  his lot was happy, compared to mine!'

There was so much dignity in Colonel Talbot's manner, such a
mixture of military pride and manly sorrow, and the news of Sir
Everard's imprisonment was told in so deep a tone of feeling,
that Edward stood mortified, abashed, and distressed in presence
of the prisoner, who owed to him his life not many hours before.
He was not sorry when Fergus interrupted their conference a
second time.

'His Royal Highness commands Mr. Waverley's attendance.'  Colonel
Talbot threw upon Edward a reproachful glance, which did not
escape the quick eye of the Highland Chief.  'His immediate
attendance,' he repeated, with considerable emphasis.  Waverley
turned again towards the Colonel.

'We shall meet again,' he said; 'in the meanwhile, every possible
accommodation'--

'I desire none,' said the Colonel; 'let me fare like the meanest
of those brave men, who, on this day of calamity, have preferred
wounds and captivity to flight; I would, almost exchange places
with one of those who have fallen, to know that my words have
made a suitable impression on your mind.'

'Let Colonel Talbot be carefully secured,' said Fergus to the
Highland officer, who commanded the guard over the prisoners; 'it
is the Prince's particular command; he is a prisoner of the
utmost importance.'

'But let him want no accommodation suitable to his rank,' said
Waverley.

'Consistent always with secure custody,' reiterated Fergus.  The
officer signified his acquiescence in both commands, and Edward
followed Fergus to the garden-gate, where Callum Beg, with three
saddle-horses, awaited them.  Turning his head, he saw Colonel
Talbot reconducted to his place of confinement by a file of
Highlanders; he lingered on the threshold of the door, and made a
signal with his hand towards Waverley, as if enforcing the
language he had held towards him.

'Horses,' said Fergus, as he mounted, 'are now as plenty as
blackberries; every man may have them for the catching.  Come,
let Callum adjust your stirrups, and let us to Pinkie-house
[Charles Edward took up his quarters after the battle at Pinkie-
house, adjoining to Musselburgh.] as fast as these CI-DEVANT
dragoon-horses choose to carry us.'



CHAPTER L

RATHER UNIMPORTANT

'I was turned back,' said Fergus to Edward, as they galloped from
Preston to Pinkie-house, 'by a message from the Prince.  But, I
suppose, you know the value of this most noble Colonel Talbot as
a prisoner.  He is held one of the best officers among the red-
coats; a special friend and favourite of the Elector himself, and
of that dreadful hero, the Duke of Cumberland, who has been
summoned from his triumphs at Fontenoy, to come over and devour
us poor Highlanders alive.  Has he been telling you how the bells
of St. James's ring?  Not "turn again, Whittington," like those
of Bow, in the days of yore?'

'Fergus!'  said Waverley, with a reproachful look.

'Nay, I cannot tell what to make of you,' answered the Chief of
Mac-Ivor, 'you are blown about with every wind of doctrine.  Here
have we gained a victory, unparalleled in history--and your
behaviour is praised by every living mortal to the skies--and the
Prince is eager to thank you in person--and all our beauties of
the White Rose are pulling caps for you,--and you, the PREUX
CHEVALIER of the day, are stooping on your horse's neck like a
butter-woman riding to market, and looking as black as a
funeral!'

'I am sorry for poor Colonel Gardiner's death:  he was once very
kind to me.'

'Why, then, be sorry for five minutes, and then be glad again;
his chance to-day may be ours to-morrow.  And what does it
signify?--the next best thing to victory is honourable death; but
it is a PIS-ALLER, and one would rather a foe had it than one's
self.'

'But Colonel Talbot has informed me that my father and uncle are
both imprisoned by government on my account.'

'We'll put in bail, my boy; old Andrew Ferrara [See Note 29.]
shall lodge his security; and I should like to see him put to
justify it in Westminster Hall!'

'Nay, they are already at liberty, upon bail of a more civic
disposition.'

'Then why is thy noble spirit cast down, Edward?  Dost think that
the Elector's Ministers are such doves as to set their enemies at
liberty at this critical moment, if they could or durst confine
and punish them?  Assure thyself that either they have no charge
against your relations on which they can continue their
imprisonment, or else they are afraid of our friends, the jolly
cavaliers of old England.  At any rate, you need not be
apprehensive upon their account; and we will find some means of
conveying to them assurances of your safety.'

Edward was silenced, but not satisfied, with these reasons.  He
had now been more than once shocked at the small degree of
sympathy which Fergus exhibited for the feelings even of those
whom he loved, if they did not correspond with his own mood at
the time, and more especially if they thwarted him while earnest
in a favourite pursuit.  Fergus sometimes indeed observed that he
had offended Waverley, but, always intent upon some favourite
plan or project of his own, he was never sufficiently aware of
the extent or duration of his displeasure, so that the
reiteration of these petty offences somewhat cooled the
volunteer's extreme attachment to his officer.

The Chevalier received Waverley with his usual favour, and paid
him many compliments on his distinguished bravery.  He then took
him apart, made many inquiries concerning Colonel Talbot, and
when he had received all the information which Edward was able to
give concerning him and his connexions, he proceeded,--'I cannot
but think, Mr. Waverley, that since this gentleman is so
particularly connected with our worthy and excellent friend, Sir
Everard Waverley, and since his lady is of the house of
Blandeville, whose devotion to the true and loyal principles of
the Church of England is so generally known, the Colonel's own
private sentiments cannot be unfavourable to us, whatever mask he
may have assumed to accommodate himself to the times.'

'If I am to judge from the language he this day held to me, I am
under the necessity of differing widely from your Royal
Highness.'

'Well, it is worth making a trial at least.  I therefore entrust
you with the charge of Colonel Talbot, with power to act
concerning him as you think most advisable;--and I hope you will
find means of ascertaining what are his real dispositions towards
our Royal Father's restoration.'

'I am convinced,' said Waverley, bowing, 'that if Colonel Talbot
chooses to grant his parole, it may be securely depended upon;
but if he refuses it, I trust your Royal Highness will devolve on
some other person than the nephew of his friend, the task of
laying him under the necessary restraint.'

'I will trust him with no person but you,' said the Prince,
smiling, but peremptorily repeating his mandate:  'it is of
importance to my service that there should appear to be a good
intelligence between you, even if you are unable to gain his
confidence in earnest.  You will therefore receive him into your
quarters, and in case he declines giving his parole, you must
apply for a proper guard.  I beg you will go about this directly.
We return to Edinburgh to-morrow.'

Being thus remanded to the vicinity of Preston, Waverley lost the
Baron of Bradwardine's solemn act of homage.  So little, however,
was he at this time in love with vanity, that he had quite
forgotten the ceremony in which Fergus had laboured to engage his
curiosity.  But next day a formal GAZETTE was circulated,
containing a detailed account of the battle of Gladsmuir, as the
Highlanders chose to denominate their victory.  It concluded with
an account of the Court afterwards held by the Chevalier at
Pinkie-house, which contained this among other high-flown
descriptive paragraphs:

'Since that fatal treaty which annihilates Scotland as an
independent nation, it has not been our happiness to see her
princes receive, and her nobles discharge, those acts of feudal
homage, which, founded upon the splendid actions of Scottish
valour, recall the memory of her early history, with the manly
and chivalrous simplicity of the ties which united to the Crown
the homage of the warriors by whom it was repeatedly upheld and
defended.  But on the evening of the 20th, our memories were
refreshed with one of those ceremonies which belong to the
ancient days of Scotland's glory.  After the circle was formed,
Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, of that ilk, colonel in the service,
&c. &c. &c., came before the Prince, attended by Mr. D.
Macwheeble, the Bailie of his ancient barony of Bradwardine (who,
we understand, has been-lately named a commissary), and, under
form of instrument, claimed permission to perform, to the person
of his Royal Highness, as representing his father, the service
used and wont, for which, under a charter of Robert Bruce (of
which the original was produced and inspected by the Masters of
his Royal Highness's Chancery, for the time being), the claimant
held the barony of Bradwardine, and lands of Tully-Veolan.  His
claim being admitted and registered, his Royal Highness having
placed his foot upon a cushion, the Baron of Bradwardine,
kneeling upon his right knee, proceeded to undo the latchet of
the brogue, or low-heeled Highland shoe, which our gallant young
hero wears in compliment to his brave followers.  When this was
performed, his Royal Highness declared the ceremony completed;
and embracing the gallant veteran, protested that nothing but
compliance with an ordinance of Robert Bruce could have induced
him to receive even the symbolical performance of a menial office
from hands which had fought so bravely to put the crown upon the
head of his father.  The Baron of Bradwardine then took
instruments in the hands of Mr. Commissary Macwheeble, bearing,
that all points and circumstances of the act of homage had been
RITE ET SOLENNITER ACTA ET PERACTA; and a corresponding entry was
made in the protocol of the Lord High Chamberlain, and in the
record of Chancery.  We understand that it is in contemplation of
his Royal Highness, when his Majesty's pleasure can be known, to
raise Colonel Bradwardine to the peerage, by the title of
Viscount Bradwardine, of Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, and that,
in the meanwhile, his Royal Highness, in his father's name and
authority, has been pleased to grant him an honourable
augmentation to his paternal coat of arms, being a budget or
boot-jack, disposed saltier-wise with a naked broadsword, to be
borne in the dexter cantle of the shield; and, as an additional
motto, on a scroll beneath, the words, "DRAW AND DRAW OFF"'

'Were it not for the recollection of Fergus's raillery,' thought
Waverley to himself, when he had perused this long and grave
document, 'how very tolerable would all this sound, and how
little should I have thought of connecting it with any ludicrous
idea!  Well, after all, everything has its fair, as well as its
seamy side; and truly I do not see why the Baron's boot-jack may
not stand as fair in heraldry as the water-Buckets, waggons,
cart-wheels, plough-socks, shuttles, candlesticks, and other
ordinaries, conveying ideas of anything save chivalry, which
appear in the arms of some of our most ancient gentry.'--This,
however, is an episode in respect to the principal story.

When Waverley returned to Preston, and rejoined Colonel Talbot,
he found him recovered from the strong and obvious emotions with
which a concurrence of unpleasing events had affected him.  He
had regained his natural manner, which was that of an English
gentleman and soldier, manly, open, and generous, but not
unsusceptible of prejudice against those of a different country,
or who opposed him in political tenets.  When Waverley acquainted
Colonel Talbot with the Chevalier's purpose to commit him to his
charge, 'I did not think to have owed so much obligation to that
young gentleman,' he said, 'as is implied in this destination.  I
can at least cheerfully join in the prayer of the honest
Presbyterian clergyman, that, as he has come among us seeking an
earthly crown, his labours may be speedily rewarded with a
heavenly one.  [The clergyman's name was Mac-Vicar.  Protected by
the cannon of the Castle, he preached every Sunday in the West
Kirk, while the Highlanders were in possession of Edinburgh; and
it was in presence of some of the Jacobites that he prayed for
Prince Charles Edward in the terms quoted in the text.]  I shall
willingly give my parole not to attempt an escape without your
knowledge, since, in fact, it was to meet you that I came to
Scotland; and I am glad it has happened even under this
predicament.  But I suppose we shall be 'but a short time
together.  Your Chevalier (that is a name we may both give to
him), with his plaids and blue-caps, will, I presume, be
continuing his crusade southward?'

'Not as I hear; I believe the army makes some stay, in Edinburgh,
to collect reinforcements.'

'And to besiege the Castle?'  said Talbot, smiling sarcastically.
'Well, unless my old commander, General Preston, turn false
metal, or the Castle sink into the North Loch, events which I
deem equally probable, I think we shall have some time to make up
our acquaintance.  I have a guess that this gallant Chevalier has
a design that I should be your proselyte; and, as I wish you to
be mine, there cannot be a more fair proposal than to afford us
fair conference together.  But as I spoke to-day under the
influence of feelings I rarely give way to, I hope you will
excuse my entering again upon controversy till we are somewhat
better acquainted.'



CHAPTER LI

INTRIGUES OF LOVE AND POLITICS

It is not necessary to record in these pages the triumphant
entrance of the Chevalier into Edinburgh after the decisive
affair of Preston.  One circumstance, however, may be noticed,
because it illustrates the high spirit of Flora Mac-Ivor.  The
Highlanders, by whom the Prince was surrounded, in the licence
and extravagance of this joyful moment, fired their pieces
repeatedly, and one of these having been accidentally loaded with
ball, the bullet grazed the young lady's temple as she waved her
handkerchief from a balcony.  [See Note 30.]  Fergus, who beheld
the accident, was at her side in an instant; and, on seeing that
the wound was trifling, he drew his broadsword, with the purpose
of rushing down upon the man by whose carelessness she had
incurred so much danger, when, holding him by the plaid, 'Do not
harm the poor fellow,' she cried; 'for Heaven's sake, do not harm
him!  but thank God with me that the accident happened to Flora
Mac-Ivor; for had it befallen a Whig, they would have pretended
that the shot was fired on purpose.'

Waverley escaped the alarm which this accident would have
occasioned to him, as he was unavoidably delayed by the necessity
of accompanying Colonel Talbot to Edinburgh.

They performed the journey together on horseback, and for some
time, as if to sound each other's feelings and sentiments, they
conversed upon general and ordinary topics.

When Waverley again entered upon the subject which he had most at
heart, the situation, namely, of his father and his uncle,
Colonel Talbot seemed now rather desirous to alleviate than to
aggravate his anxiety.  This appeared particularly to be the case
when he heard Waverley's history, which he did not scruple to
confide to him.

'And so,' said the Colonel, 'there has been no malice prepense,
as lawyers, I think, term it, in this rash step of yours; and you
have been trepanned into the service of this Italian knight-
errant by a few civil speeches from him, and one or two of his
Highland recruiting sergeants?  It is sadly foolish, to be sure,
but not nearly so bad as I was led to expect.  However, you
cannot desert, even from the Pretender, at the present moment,--
that seems impossible.  But I have little doubt that, in the
dissensions incident to this heterogeneous mass of wild and
desperate men, some opportunity may arise, by availing yourself
of which, you may extricate yourself honourably from your rash
engagement before the bubble burst.  If this can be managed, I
would have you go to a place of safety in Flanders, which I shall
point out.  And I think I can secure your pardon from Government
after a few months' residence abroad.'

'I cannot; permit you, Colonel Talbot,' answered Waverley, 'to
speak of any plan which turns on my deserting an enterprise in
which I may have engaged hastily, but certainly voluntarily, and
with the purpose of abiding the issue.'

'Well,' said Colonel Talbot, smiling, 'leave me my thoughts and
hopes at least at liberty, if not my speech.  But have you never
examined your mysterious packet?'

'It is in my baggage,' replied Edward; 'we shall find it in
Edinburgh.'

In Edinburgh they soon arrived.  Waverley's quarters had been
assigned to him, by the Prince's express orders, in a handsome
lodging, where there was accommodation, for Colonel Talbot.  His
first business was to examine his portmanteau, and, after a very
short search, out tumbled the expected packet.  Waverley opened
it eagerly.  Under a blank cover, simply addressed to E.
Waverley, Esq., he found a number of open letters.  The uppermost
were two from Colonel Gardiner, addressed to himself.  The
earliest in date was a kind and gentle remonstrance for neglect
of the writer's advice respecting the disposal of his time during
his leave of absence, the renewal of which, he reminded Captain
Waverley, would speedily expire.  'Indeed,' the letter proceeded,
'had it been otherwise, the news from abroad, and my instructions
from the War-office, must have compelled me to recall it, as
there is great danger, since the disaster in Flanders, both of
foreign invasion and insurrection among the disaffected at home.
I therefore entreat you will repair, as soon as possible, to the
head-quarters of the regiment; and I am concerned to add, that
this is still the more necessary, as there is some discontent in
your troop, and I postpone inquiry into particulars until I can
have the advantage of your assistance.'

The second letter, dated eight days later, was in such a style as
might have been expected from the Colonel's receiving no answer
to the first.  It reminded Waverley of his duty as a man of
honour, an officer, and a Briton; took notice of the increasing
dissatisfaction of his men, and that some of them had been heard
to hint that their Captain encouraged and approved of their
mutinous behaviour; and, finally, the writer expressed the utmost
regret and surprise that he had not obeyed his commands by
repairing to head-quarters, reminded him that his leave of
absence had been recalled, and conjured him, in a style in which
paternal remonstrance was mingled with military authority, to
redeem his error by immediately joining his regiment.  'That I
may be certain,' concluded the letter, 'that this actually
reaches you, I dispatch it by Corporal Timms, of your troop, with
orders to deliver it into your own hand.'

Upon reading these letters, Waverley, with great bitterness of
feeling, was compelled to make the AMENDE HONORABLE to the memory
of the brave and excellent writer; for surely, as Colonel
Gardiner must have had every reason to conclude they had come
safely to hand, less could not follow, on their being neglected,
than that third and final summons, which Waverley actually
received at Glennaquoich, though too late to obey it.  And his
being superseded, in consequence of his apparent neglect of this
last command, was so far from being a harsh or severe proceeding,
that it was plainly inevitable.  The next letter he unfolded was
from the Major of the regiment, acquainting him that a report, to
the disadvantage of his reputation, was public in the country,
stating, that one Mr. Falconer of Ballihopple, or some such name,
had proposed, in his presence, a treasonable toast, which he
permitted to pass in silence, although it was so gross an affront
to the royal family, that a gentleman in company, not remarkable
for his zeal for government, had nevertheless taken the matter
up; and that, supposing the account true, Captain Waverley had
thus suffered another, comparatively unconcerned, to resent an
affront directed against him personally as an officer,and to go
out with the person by whom it was offered.  The Major concluded,
that no one of Captain Waverley's brother officers could believe
this scandalous story, but it was necessarily their joint opinion
that his own honour, equally with that of the regiment, depended
upon its being instantly contradicted by his authority, &c. &c.
&c.

'What do you think of all this?'  said Colonel Talbot, to whom
Waverley handed the letters after he had perused them.

'Think!  it renders thought impossible.  It is enough to drive me
mad.'

'Be calm, my young friend; let us see what are these dirty
scrawls that follow.'

The first was addressed, 'For Master W. Ruffin These,'--'Dear
sur, sum of our yong gulpins will not bite, thof I tuold them you
shoed me the squoire's own seel.  But Timms will deliver you the
lettrs as desired, and tell ould Addem he gave them to squoir's
hond, as to be sure yours is the same, and shall be ready for
signal, and hoy for Hoy Church and Sachefrel, as fadur sings at
harvest-whome.  Yours, deer Sur,   H.H.

'Poscriff.  Do' e tell squoire we longs to heer from him, and has
dootings about his not writing himself, and Lieftenant Bottler is
smoky.'

'This Ruffin, I suppose, then, is your Donald of the Cavern, who
has intercepted your letters, and carried on a correspondence
with the poor devil Houghton, as if under your authority?

'It seems too true.  But who can Addem be?'

'Possibly Adam, for poor Gardiner, a sort of pun on his name.'

The other letters were to the same purpose, and they soon
received yet more complete light upon Donald Bean's machinations.

John Hedges, one of Waverley's servants, who had remained with
the regiment, and had been taken at Preston, now made his
appearance.  He had sought out his master, with the purpose of
again entering his service.  From this fellow they learned, that,
some time after Waverley had gone from the head-quarters of the
regiment, a pedlar, called Ruthven, Ruffin, or Rivane, known
among the soldiers by the name of Wily Will, had made frequent
visits to the town of Dundee.  He appeared to possess plenty of
money, sold his commodities very cheap, seemed always willing to
treat his friends at the ale-house, and easily ingratiated
himself with many of Waverley's troop, particularly Sergeant
Houghton, and one Timms, also a non-commissioned officer.  To
these he unfolded, in Waverley's name, a plan for leaving the
regiment, and joining him in the Highlands, where report said the
clans had already taken arms in great numbers.  The men, who had
been educated as Jacobites, so far as they had any opinion at
all, and who knew their landlord, Sir Everard, had always been
supposed to hold such tenets, easily fell into the snare.  That
Waverley was at a distance in the Highlands, was received as a
sufficient excuse for transmitting his letters through the medium
of the pedlar; and the sight of his well-known seal seemed to
authenticate the negotiations in his name, where writing might
have been dangerous.  The cabal, however, began to take air, from
the premature mutinous language of those concerned.  Wily Will
justified his appellative; for, after suspicion arose, he was
seen no more.  When the Gazette appeared, in which Waverley was
superseded, great part of his troop broke out into actual mutiny,
but were surrounded and disarmed by the rest of the regiment.  In
consequence of the sentence of a court-martial, Houghton and
Timms were condemned to be shot, but afterwards permitted to cast
lots for life.  Houghton, the survivor, showed much penitence,
being convinced from the rebukes and explanations of Colonel
Gardiner, that he had really engaged in a very heinous crime.  It
is remarkable, that, as soon as the poor fellow was satisfied of
this, he became also convinced that the instigator had acted
without authority from Edward, saying, 'If it was dishonourable
and against Old England, the squire could know naught about it;
he never did, or thought to do, anything dishonourable,--no more
didn't Sir Everard, nor none of them afore him, and in that
belief he would live and die that Ruffin had done it all of his
own head.'

The strength of conviction with which he expressed himself upon
this subject, as well as his assurances that the letters intended
for Waverley had been delivered to Ruthven, made that revolution
in Colonel Gardiner's opinion which he expressed to Talbot.

The reader has long since understood that Donald Bean Lean played
the part of tempter on this occasion.  His motives were shortly
these.  Of an active and intriguing spirit, he had been long
employed as a subaltern agent and spy by those in the confidence
of the Chevalier, to an extent beyond what was suspected even by
Fergus Mac-Ivor, whom, though obliged to him for protection, he
regarded with fear and dislike.  To success in this political
department, he naturally looked for raising himself by some bold
stroke above his present hazardous and precarious state of
rapine.  He was particularly employed in learning the strength of
the regiments in Scotland, the character of the officers, &c.,
and had long had his eye upon Waverley's troop, as open to
temptation.  Donald even believed that Waverley himself was at
bottom in the Stuart interest, which seemed confirmed by his long
visit to the Jacobite Baron of Bradwardine.  When, therefore, he
came to his cave with one of Glennaquoich's attendants, the
robber, who could never appreciate his real motive, which was
mere curiosity, was so sanguine as to hope that his own talents
were to be employed in some intrigue of consequence, under the
auspices of this wealthy young Englishman.  Nor was he undeceived
by Waverley's neglecting all hints and openings for an
explanation.  His conduct passed for prudent reserve, and
somewhat piqued Donald Bean, who, supposing himself left out of a
secret where confidence promised to be advantageous, determined
to have his share in the drama, whether a regular part were
assigned him or not.  For this purpose, during Waverley's sleep,
he possessed, himself of his seal, as a token to be used to any
of the troopers whom he might discover to be possessed of the
captain's confidence.  His first journey to Dundee, the town
where the regiment was quartered, undeceived him in his original
supposition, but opened to him a new field of action.  He knew
there would be no service so well rewarded by the friends of the
Chevalier, as seducing a part of the regular army to his
standard.  For this purpose, he opened the machinations with
which the reader is already acquainted, and which form a clue to
all the intricacies and obscurities of the narrative previous to
Waverley's leaving Glennaquoich.

By Colonel Talbot's advice, Waverley declined detaining in his
service the lad whose evidence had thrown additional light on
these intrigues.  He represented to him that it would be doing
the man an injury to engage him in a desperate undertaking, and
that, whatever should happen, his evidence would go some length,
at least, in explaining the circumstances under which Waverley
himself had embarked in it.  Waverley therefore wrote a short
statement of what had happened, to his uncle and his father,
cautioning them, however, in the present circumstances, not to
attempt to answer his letter.  Talbot then gave the young man a
letter to the commander of one of the English vessels of war
cruising in the frith, requesting him to put the bearer ashore at
Berwick, with a pass to proceed to --shire.  He was then
furnished with money to make an expeditious journey and directed
to get on board the ship by means of bribing a fishing-boat,
which, as they afterwards learned, he easily effected.

Tired of the attendance of Callum Beg, who, he thought, had some
disposition to act as a spy on his motions, Waverley hired as a
servant a simple Edinburgh swain, who had mounted the white
cockade in a fit of spleen and jealousy, because Jenny Jop had
danced a whole night with Corporal Bullock of the Fusileers.



CHAPTER LII

INTRIGUES OF SOCIETY AND LOVE

Colonel Talbot became more kindly in his demeanour towards
Waverley after the confidence he had reposed in him; and as they
were necessarily much together, the character of the Colonel rose
in Waverley's estimation.  There seemed at first something harsh
in his strong expressions of dislike and censure, although no one
was in the general case more open to conviction.  The habit of
authority had also given his manners some peremptory hardness,
notwithstanding the polish which they had received from his
intimate acquaintance with the higher circles.  As a specimen of
the military character, he differed from all whom Waverley had as
yet seen.  The soldiership of the Baron of Bradwardine was marked
by pedantry; that of Major Melville by a sort of martinet
attention to the minutiae and technicalities of discipline,
rather suitable to one who was to manoeuvre a battalion, than to
him who was to command an army; the military spirit of Fergus was
so much warped and blended with his plans and political views,
that it was less that of a soldier than of a petty sovereign.
But Colonel Talbot was in every point the English soldier.  His
whole soul was devoted to the service of his king and country,
without feeling any pride in knowing the theory of his art with
the Baron, or its practical minutiae with the Major, or in
applying his science to his own particular plans of ambition,
like the Chieftain of Glennaquoich.  Added to this, he was a man
of extended knowledge and cultivated taste, although strongly
tinged, as we have already observed, with those prejudices which
are peculiarly English.

The character of Colonel Talbot dawned upon Edward by degrees;
for the delay of the Highlanders in the fruitless siege of
Edinburgh Castle occupied several weeks, during which Waverley
had little to do, excepting to seek such amusement as society
afforded.  He would willingly have persuaded his new friend to
become acquainted with some of his former intimates.  But the
Colonel, after one or two visits, shook his head, and declined
further experiment.  Indeed he went further, and characterized
the Baron as the most intolerable formal pedant he had ever had
the misfortune to meet with, and the Chief of Glennaquoich as a
Frenchified Scotchman, possessing all the cunning and
plausibility of the nation where he was educated, with the proud,
vindictive, and turbulent humour of that of his birth.  'If the
devil,' he said, 'had sought out an agent expressly for the
purpose of embroiling this miserable country, I do not think he
could find a better than such a fellow as this, whose temper
seems equally active, supple, and mischievous, and who is
followed, and implicitly obeyed, by a gang of such cut-throats as
those whom you are pleased to admire so much.'

The ladies of the party did not escape his censure.  He allowed
that Flora Mac-Ivor was a fine woman, and Rose Bradwardine a
pretty girl.  But he alleged that the former destroyed the effect
of her beauty by an affectation of the grand airs which she had
probably seen practised at the mock court of St. Germains.  As
for Rose Bradwardine, he said it was impossible for any mortal to
admire such a little uninformed thing, whose small portion of
education was as ill adapted to her sex or youth, as if she had
appeared with one of her father's old campaign-coats upon her
person for her sole garment.  Now much of this was mere spleen
and prejudice in the excellent Colonel, with whom the white
cockade on the breast, the white rose in the hair, and the Mac at
the beginning of a name, would have made a devil out of an angel;
and indeed he himself jocularly allowed, that he could not have
endured Venus herself, if she had been announced in a drawing-
room by the name of Miss Mac-Jupiter.

Waverley, it may easily be believed, looked upon these young
ladies with very different eyes.  During the period of the siege,
he paid them almost daily visits, although he observed with
regret that his suit made as little progress in the affections of
the former as the arms of the Chevalier in subduing the fortress.
She maintained with rigour the rule she had laid down of treating
him with indifference, without either affecting to avoid him, or
to shun intercourse with him.  Every word, every look, was
strictly regulated to accord with her system, and neither the
dejection of Waverley, nor the anger which Fergus scarcely
suppressed, could extend Flora's attention to Edward beyond that
which the most ordinary politeness demanded.  On the other hand,
Rose Bradwardine gradually rose in Waverley's opinion.  He had
several opportunities of remarking, that, as her extreme timidity
wore off, her manners received a higher character; that the
agitating circumstances of the stormy time seemed to call forth a
certain dignity of feeling and expression, which he had not
formerly observed; and that she omitted no opportunity within her
reach to extend her knowledge and refine her taste.

Flora Mac-Ivor called Rose her pupil, and was attentive to assist
her in her studies, and to fashion both her taste and
understanding.  It might have been remarked by a very close
observer, that in the presence of Waverley she was much more
desirous to exhibit her friend's excellences than her own.  But I
must request of the reader to suppose, that this kind and
disinterested purpose was concealed by the most cautious
delicacy, studiously shunning the most distant approach to
affectation.  So that it was as unlike the usual exhibition of
one pretty woman affecting to PRONER another, as the friendship
of David and Jonathan might be to the intimacy of two Bond-street
loungers.

The fact is, that, though the effect was felt, the cause could
hardly be observed.  Each of the ladies, like two excellent
actresses, were perfect in their parts, and performed them to the
delight of the audience; and such being the case, it was almost
impossible to discover that the elder constantly ceded to her
friend that which was most suitable to her talents.

But to Waverley, Rose Bradwardine possessed an attraction which
few men can resist, from the marked interest which she took in
everything that effected him.  She was too young and too
inexperienced to estimate the full force of the constant
attention which she paid to him.  Her father was too abstractedly
immersed in learned and military discussions to observe her
partiality, and Flora Mac-Ivor did not alarm her by remonstrance,
because she saw in this line of conduct the most probable chance
of her friend securing at length a return of affection.

The truth is, that, in her first conversation after their
meeting, Rose had discovered the state of her mind to that acute
and intelligent friend, although she was not herself aware of it.
From that time, Flora was not only determined upon the final
rejection of Waverley's addresses, but became anxious that they
should, if possible, be transferred to her friend.  Nor was she
less interested in this plan, though her brother had from time to
time talked, as between jest and earnest, of paying his suit to
Miss Bradwardine.  She knew that Fergus had the true continental
latitude of opinion respecting the institution of marriage, and
would not have given his hand to an angel, unless for the purpose
of strengthening his alliances, and increasing his influence and
wealth.  The Baron's whim of transferring his estate to the
distant heir-male instead of his own daughter, was therefore
likely to be an insurmountable obstacle to his entertaining any
serious thoughts of Rose Bradwardine.  Indeed, Fergus's brain was
a perpetual workshop of scheme and intrigue of every possible
kind and description; while, like many a mechanic of more
ingenuity than steadiness, he would often unexpectedly and
without any apparent motive, abandon one plan, and go earnestly
to work upon another, which was either fresh from the forge of
his imagination, or had at some former period been flung aside
half finished.  It was therefore often difficult to guess what
line of conduct he might finally adopt upon any given occasion.

Although Flora was sincerely attached to her brother, whose high
energies might indeed have commanded her admiration even without
the ties which bound them together, she was by no means blind to
his faults, which she considered as dangerous to the hopes of any
woman who should found her ideas of a happy marriage in the
peaceful enjoyment of domestic society, and the exchange of
mutual and engrossing affection.  The real disposition of
Waverley, on the other hand, notwithstanding his dreams of tented
fields and military honour, seemed exclusively domestic.  He
asked and received no share in the busy scenes which were
constantly going on around him, and was rather annoyed than
interested by the discussion of contending claims, rights, and
interests, which often passed in his presence.  All this pointed
him out as the person formed to make happy a spirit like that of
Rose, which corresponded with his own.

She remarked this point in Waverley's character one day while she
sat with Miss Bradwardine.  'His genius and elegant taste,'
answered Rose, 'cannot be interested in such trifling
discussions.  What is it to him, for example, whether the Chief
of the Macindallaghers, who has brought out only fifty men,
should be a colonel or a captain?  and how could Mr. Waverley be
supposed to interest himself in the violent altercation between
your brother and young Corrinaschian, whether the post of honour
is due to the eldest cadet of a clan or the youngest?'
'My dear Rose, if he were the hero you suppose him, he would
interest himself in these matters, not indeed as important in
themselves, but for the purpose of mediating between the ardent
spirits who actually do make them the subject of discord.  You
saw when Corrinaschian raised his voice in great passion, and
laid his hand upon his sword, Waverley lifted his head as if he
had just awaked from a dream, and asked, with great composure,
what the matter was.'

'Well, and did not the laughter they fell into at his absence of
mind, serve better to break off the dispute than anything he
could have said to them?'

'True, my dear,' answered Flora; 'but not quite so creditably for
Waverley as if he had brought them to their senses by force of
reason.'

'Would you have him peacemaker general between all the gunpowder
Highlanders in the army?  I beg your pardon, Flora--your brother,
you know, is out of the question; he has more sense than half of
them.  But can you think the fierce, hot, furious spirits, of
whose brawls we see much, and hear more, and who terrify me out
of my life every day in the world, are at all to be compared to
Waverley?'

'I do not compare him with those uneducated men, my dear Rose.  I
only lament, that, with his talents and genius, he does not
assume that place in society for which they eminently fit him,
and that he does not lend their full impulse to the noble cause
in which he has enlisted.  Are there not Lochiel, and P--, and
M--, and G--, all men of the highest education, as well as the
first talents?--why will he not stoop like them to be alive and
useful?--I often believe his zeal is frozen by that proud cold-
blooded Englishman, whom he now lives with so much.'

'Colonel Talbot?--he is a very disagreeable person, to be sure.
He looks as if he thought no Scottish woman worth the trouble of
handing her a cup of tea.  But Waverley is so gentle, so well
informed'--

'Yes,' said Flora, smiling; 'he can admire the moon, and quote a
stanza from Tasso.'

'Besides, you know how he fought,' added Miss Bradwardine.

'For mere fighting,' answered Flora, 'I believe all men (that is,
who deserve the name) are pretty much alike; there is generally
more courage required to run away.  They have, besides, when
confronted with each other, a certain instinct for strife, as we
see in other male animals, such as dogs, bulls, and so forth.
But high and perilous enterprise is not Waverley's forte.  He
would never have been his celebrated ancestor Sir Nigel, but only
Sir Nigel's eulogist and poet.  I will tell you where he will be
at home, my dear, and in his place,--in the quiet circle of
domestic happiness, lettered indolence, and elegant enjoyments,
of Waverley-Honour.  And he will refit the old library in the
most exquisite Gothic taste, and garnish its shelves, with the
rarest and most valuable volumes; and he will draw plans and
landscapes, and write verses, and rear temples, and dig
grottoes;--and he will stand in a clear summer night in the
colonnade before the hall, and gaze on the deer as they stray in
the moonlight, or lie shadowed by the boughs of the huge old
fantastic oaks;--and he will repeat verses to his beautiful wife,
who will hang upon his arm;--and he will be a happy man.'

'And she will be a happy woman,' thought poor Rose.  But she only
sighed, and dropped the conversation.



CHAPTER LIII

FERGUS A SUITOR

Waverly had, indeed, as he looked closer into the state of the
Chevalier's Court, less reason to be satisfied with it.  It
contained, as they say an acorn includes all the ramifications of
the future oak, as many seeds of TRACASSERIE and intrigue, as
might have done honour to the Court of a large empire.  Every
person of consequence had some separate object, which he pursued
with a fury that Waverley considered as altogether
disproportioned to its importance.  Almost all had their reasons
for discontent, although the most legitimate was that of the
worthy old Baron, who was only distressed on account of the
common cause.

'We shall hardly,' said he one morning to Waverley, when they had
been viewing the castle,--'we shall hardly gain the obsidional
crown, which you wot well was made of the roots or grain which
takes root within the place besieged, or it may be of the herb
woodbind, PARETARIA, or pellitory; we shall not, I say, gain it
by this same blockade or leaguer of Edinburgh Castle.'  For this
opinion, he gave most learned and satisfactory reasons, that the
reader may not care to hear repeated.

Having escaped from the old gentleman, Waverley went to Fergus's
lodgings by appointment, to await his return from Holyrood House.
'I am to have a particular audience to-morrow,' said Fergus to
Waverley, overnight, 'and you must meet me to wish me joy of the
success which I securely anticipate.'

The morrow came, and in the Chief's apartment he found Ensign
Maccombich waiting to make report of his turn of duty in a sort
of ditch which they had dug across the Castle-hill, and called a
trench.  In a short time the Chief's voice was heard on the stair
in a tone of impatient fury:--'Callum,--why, Callum Beg,--
Diaoul!'  He entered the room with all the marks of a man
agitated by a towering passion; and there were few upon whose
features rage produced a more violent effect.  The veins of his
forehead swelled when he was in such agitation; his nostril
became dilated; his cheek and eye inflamed; and his look that of
a demoniac.  These appearances of half-suppressed rage were the
more frightful, because they were obviously caused by a strong
effort to temper with discretion an almost ungovernable paroxysm
of passion, and resulted from an internal conflict of the most
dreadful kind, which agitated his whole frame of mortality.

As he entered the apartment, he unbuckled his broadsword, and
throwing it down with such violence that the weapon rolled to the
other end of the room, 'I know not what,' he exclaimed,
'withholds me from taking a solemn oath that I will never more
draw it in his cause.  Load my pistols, Callum, and bring them
hither instantly;--instantly!'  Callum, whom nothing ever
startled, dismayed, or disconcerted, obeyed very coolly.  Evan
Dhu, upon whose brow the suspicion that his Chief had been
insulted, called up a corresponding storm, swelled in sullen
silence, awaiting to learn where or upon whom vengeance was to
descend.

'So, Waverley you are there,' said the Chief, after a moment's
recollection;--'Yes, I remember I asked you to share my triumph,
and you have come to witness my--disappointment we shall call
it.'  Evan now presented the written report he had in his hand,
which Fergus threw from him with great passion.  'I wish to God,'
he said, 'the old den would tumble down upon the heads of the
fools who attack, and the knaves who defend it!  I see, Waverley,
you think I am mad--leave us, Evan, but be within call.'

'The Colonel's in an unco kippage,' said Mrs. Flockhart to Evan,
as he descended; 'I wish he may be weel,--the very veins on his
brent brow are swelled like whipcord:  wad he no tak something?'

'He usually lets blood for these fits,' answered the Highland
ancient with great composure.

When this officer left the room, the Chieftain gradually
reassumed some degree of composure.--'I know, Waverley,' he said,
'that Colonel Talbot has persuaded you to curse ten times a day
your engagement with us; nay, never deny it, for I am at this
moment tempted to curse my own.  Would you believe it, I made
this very morning two suits to the Prince, and he has rejected
them both:  what do you think of it?'

'What can I think,' answered Waverley, 'till I know what your
requests were?'

'Why, what signifies what they were, man?  I tell you it was I
that made them,--I, to whom he owes more than to any three who
have joined the standard; for I negotiated the whole business,
and brought in all the Perthshire men when not one would have
stirred.  I am not likely, I think, to ask anything very
unreasonable, and if I did they might have stretched a point.--
Well, but you shall know all, now that I can draw my breath again
with some freedom.--You remember my earl's patent; it is dated
some years back, for services then rendered; and certainly my
merit has not been diminished, to say the least, by my subsequent
behaviour.  Now, sir, I value this bauble of a coronet as little
as you can, or any philosopher on earth; for I hold that the
chief of such a clan as the Sliochd nan Ivor is superior in rank
to any earl in Scotland.  But I had a particular reason for
assuming this cursed title at this time.  You must know, that I
learned accidentally that the Prince has been pressing that old
foolish Baron of Bradwardine to disinherit his male heir, or
nineteenth or twentieth cousin, who has taken a command in the
Elector of Hanover's militia, and to settle his estate upon your
pretty little friend Rose; and this, as being the command of his
king and overlord, who may alter the destination of a fief at
pleasure, the old gentleman seems well reconciled to.'

'And what becomes of the homage?'

'Curse the homage!--I believe Rose is to pull off the queen's
slipper on her coronation-day, or some such trash.  Well sir, as
Rose Bradwardine would always have made a suitable match for me,
but for this idiotical predilection of her father for the heir-
male, it occurred to me there now remained no obstacle, unless
that the Baron might expect his daughter's husband to take the
name of Bradwardine (which you know would be impossible in my
case), and that this might be evaded by my assuming the title to
which I had so good a right, and which, of course, would
supersede that difficulty.  If she was to be also Viscountess
Bradwardine in her own right, after her father's demise, so much
the better; I could have no objection.'

'But, Fergus,' said Waverley, 'I had no idea that you had any
affection for Miss Bradwardine, and you are always sneering at
her father.'

'I have as much affection for Miss Bradwardine, my good friend,
as I think it necessary to have for the future mistress of my
family, and the mother of my children.  She is a very pretty,
intelligent girl, and is certainly of one of the very first
Lowland families; and, with a little of Flora's instructions and
forming, will make a very good figure.  As to her father, he is
an original, it is true, and an absurd one enough; but he has
given such severe lessons to Sir Hew Halbert, that dear defunct
the Laird of Balmawhapple, and others, that nobody dare laugh at
him, so his absurdity goes for nothing.  I tell you there could
have been no earthly objection--none.  I had settled the thing
entirely in my own mind.'

'But had you asked the Baron's consent,' said Waverley, 'Or
Rose's?'

'To what purpose?  To have spoke to the Baron before I had
assumed my title would have only provoked a premature and
irritating discussion on the subject of the change of name, when,
as Earl of Glennaquoich, I had only to propose to him to carry
his d-d bear and bootjack PARTY PER PALE, or in a scutcheon of
pretence, or in a separate shield perhaps--any way that would not
blemish my own coat of arms.  And as to Rose, I don't see what
objection she could have made, if her father was satisfied.'

'Perhaps the same that your sister makes to me, you being
satisfied.'

Fergus gave a broad stare at the comparison which this
supposition implied, but cautiously suppressed the answer which
rose to his tongue.  'Oh, we should easily have arranged all
that.--so, sir, I craved a private interview, and this morning
was assigned; and I asked you to meet me here, thinking, like a
fool, that I should want your countenance as bride's-man.  Well
--I state my pretensions--they are not denied; the promises so
repeatedly made, and the patent granted--they are acknowledged.
But I propose, as a natural consequence, to assume the rank which
the patent bestowed--I have the old story of the jealousy of C--
and M-- trumped up against me--I resist this pretext, and offer
to procure their written acquiescence, in virtue of the date of
my patent as prior to their silly claims--I assure you I would
have had such a consent from them, if it had been at the point of
the sword.  And then, out comes the real truth; and he dares to
tell me, to my face, that my patent must be suppressed for the
present, for fear of disgusting that rascally coward and
FAINEANT--(naming the rival chief of his own clan)--who has no
better title to be a chieftain than I to be Emperor of China; and
who is pleased to shelter his dastardly reluctance to come out,
agreeable to his promise twenty times pledged, under a pretended
jealousy of the Prince's partiality to me.  And, to leave this
miserable driveller without a pretence for his cowardice, the
Prince asks if as a personal favour of me, forsooth, not to press
my just and reasonable request at this moment.  After this, put
your faith in princes!'

'And did your audience end here?'

'End?  Oh, no!  I was determined to leave him no pretence for his
ingratitude, and I therefore stated, with all the composure I
could muster,--for I promise you I trembled with passion,--the
particular reasons I had for wishing that his Royal Highness
would impose upon me any other mode of exhibiting my duty and
devotion, as my views in life made, what at any other time would
have been a mere trifle, at this crisis a severe sacrifice; and
then I explained to him my full plan.'

'And what did the Prince answer?'

'Answer?  why--it is well it is written, Curse not the king; no,
not in thy thought!--why, he answered, that truly he was glad I
had made him my confidant, to prevent more grievous
disappointment, for he could assure me, upon the word of a
prince, that Miss Bradwardine's affections were engaged, and he
was under a particular promise to favour them.  "So, my dear
Fergus," said he, with his most gracious cast of smile, "as the
marriage is utterly out of question, there need be no hurry, you
know, about the earldom."  And so he glided off, and left me
PLANTE LA.'

'And what did you do?'

'I'll tell you what I could have done at that moment--sold myself
to the devil or the Elector, whichever offered the dearest
revenge.  However, I am now cool.  I know he intends to marry her
to some of his rascally Frenchmen, or his Irish officers:  but I
will watch them close; and let the man that would supplant me
look well to himself.--BISOGNA COPRIRSI, SIGNOR.'

After some further conversation, unnecessary to be detailed,
Waverley took leave of the Chieftain, whose fury had now subsided
into a deep and strong desire of vengeance, and returned home,
scarce able to analyse the mixture of feelings which the
narrative had awakened in his own bosom.



CHAPTER LIV

'TO ONE THING CONSTANT NEVER'

'I am the very child of caprice,' said Waverley to himself, as he
bolted the door of his apartment, and paced it with hasty steps.
--'What is it to me that Fergus Mac-Ivor should wish to marry
Rose Bradwardine?--I love her not.--I might have been loved by
her, perhaps; but I rejected her simple, natural, and affecting
attachment, instead of cherishing it into tenderness, and
dedicated myself to one who will never love mortal man, unless
old Warwick, the King-maker, should arise from the dead.  The
Baron, too--I would not have cared about his estate, and so the
name would have been no stumbling-block, The devil might have
taken the barren moors, and drawn off the royal CALIGAE, for
anything I would have minded.  But, framed as she is for domestic
affection and tenderness, for giving and receiving all those kind
and quiet attentions which sweeten life to those who pass it
together, she is sought by Fergus Mac-Ivor.  He will not use her
ill, to be sure--of that he is incapable--but he will neglect her
after the first month; he will be too intent on subduing some
rival chieftain, or circumventing some favourite at court, on
gaining some heathy hill and lake, or adding to his bands some
new troop of caterans, to inquire what she does, or how she
amuses herself.

  And then will canker sorrow eat her bud,
  And chase the native beauty from her cheek;
  And she will look as hollow as a ghost,
  And dim and meagre as an ague fit,
  And so she'll die.

And such a catastrophe of the most gentle creature on earth might
have been prevented, if Mr. Edward Waverley had had his eyes!
Upon my word, I cannot understand how I thought Flora so much--
that is, so very much--handsomer than Rose.  She is taller,
indeed, and her manner more formed; but many people think Miss
Bradwardine's more natural; and she is certainly much younger.  I
should think Flora is two years older than I am--I will look at
them particularly this evening.'

And with this resolution Waverley went to drink tea (as the
fashion was Sixty Years since) at the house of a lady of quality
attached to the cause of the Chevalier, where he found, as he
expected, both the ladies.  All rose as he entered, but Flora
immediately resumed her place, and the conversation in which she
was engaged.  Rose, on the contrary, almost imperceptibly, made a
little way in the crowded circle for his advancing the corner of
a chair.  'Her manner, upon the whole, is most engaging,' said
Waverley to himself.

A dispute occurred whether the Gaelic or Italian language was
most liquid, and best adapted for poetry; the opinion for the
Gaelic, which probably might not have found supporters elsewhere,
was here fiercely defended by seven Highland ladies, who talked
at the top of their lungs, and screamed the company deaf, with
examples of Celtic EUPHONIA.  Flora, observing the Lowland ladies
sneer at the comparison, produced some reasons to show that it
was not altogether so absurd; but Rose, when asked for her
opinion, gave it with animation in praise of Italian, which she
had studied with Waverley's assistance.  'She has a more correct
ear than Flora, though a less accomplished musician,' said
Waverley to himself.  'I suppose Miss Mac-Ivor will next compare
Mac-Murrough nan Fonn to Ariosto!'

Lastly, it so befell that the company differed whether Fergus
should be asked to perform on the flute, at which he was an
adept, or Waverley invited to read a play of Shakespeare; and the
lady of the house good-humouredly undertook to collect the votes
of the company for poetry or music, under the condition, that the
gentleman whose talents were not laid under contribution that
evening, should contribute them to enliven the next.  It chanced
that Rose had the casting vote.  Now Flora, who seemed to impose
it as a rule upon herself never to countenance any proposal which
might seem to encourage Waverley, had voted for music, providing
the Baron would take his violin to accompany Fergus.  'I wish you
joy of your taste, Miss Mac-Ivor,' thought Edward, as they sought
for his book.  'I thought it better when we were at Glennaquoich;
but certainly the Baron is no great performer, and Shakespeare is
worth listening to.'

ROMEO AND JULIET was selected, and Edward read with taste,
feeling, and spirit, several scenes from that play.  All the
company applauded with their hands, and many with their tears.
Flora, to whom the drama was well known, was among the former;
Rose, to whom it was altogether new, belonged to the latter class
of admirers.  'She has more feeling, too,' said Waverley,
internally.

The conversation turning upon the incidents of the play, and upon
the characters, Fergus declared that the only one worth naming,
as a man of fashion and spirit, was Mercutio.  'I could not,' he
said, 'quite follow all his old-fashioned wit, but he must have
been a very pretty fellow, according to the ideas of his time.'

'And it was a shame,' said Ensign Maccombich, who usually
followed his Colonel everywhere, 'for that Tibbert, or Taggart,
or whatever was his name, to stick him under the other
gentleman's arm while he was redding the fray.'

The ladies, of course, declared loudly in favour of Romeo; but
this opinion did not go undisputed.  The mistress of the house,
and several other ladies, severely reprobated the levity with
which the hero transfers his affections from Rosalind to Juliet.
Flora remained silent until her opinion was repeatedly requested,
and then answered, she thought the circumstance objected to not
only reconcilable to nature, but such as in the highest degree
evinced the art of the poet.  'Romeo is described,' said she, 'as
a young man, peculiarly susceptible of the softer passions; his
love is at first fixed upon a woman who could afford it no
return; this he repeatedly tells you,--

  From love's weak childish bow she lives unharmed;

and again,--

  She hath forsworn to love.

Now, as it was impossible that Romeo's love, supposing him a
reasonable being, could continue to subsist without hope, the
poet has, with great art, seized the moment when he was reduced
actually to despair, to throw in his way an object more
accomplished than her by whom he had been rejected, and who is
disposed to repay his attachment.  I can scarce conceive a
situation more calculated to enhance the ardour of Romeo's
affection for Juliet, than his being at once raised by her from
the state of drooping melancholy in which he appears first upon
the scene, to the ecstatic state in which he exclaims--

  --come what sorrow can,
  It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
  That one short moment gives me in her sight.'

'Good, now, Miss Mac-Ivor,' said a young lady of quality, 'do you
mean to cheat us out of our prerogative?  will you persuade us
love cannot subsist-without hope, or that the lover must become
fickle if the lady is cruel?  Oh, fie!  I did not expect such an
unsentimental conclusion.'

'A lover, my dear Lady Betty,' said Flora, 'may, I conceive,
persevere in his suit under very discouraging circumstances.
Affection can (now and then) withstand very severe storms of
rigour, but not a long polar frost of downright indifference.
Don't, even with YOUR attractions, try the experiment upon any
lover whose faith you value.  Love will subsist on wonderfully
little hope, but not altogether without it.'

'It will be just like Duncan Mac-Girdie's mare,' said Evan, 'if
your ladyships please; he wanted to use her by degrees to live
without meat, and just as he had put her on a straw a day, the
poor thing died!'

Evan's illustration set the company a-laughing, and the discourse
took a different turn.  Shortly afterwards the party broke up,
and Edward returned home, musing on what Flora had said.  'I
will love my Rosalind no more,' said he:  'she has given me a
broad enough hint for that; and I will speak to her brother, and
resign my suit.  But for a Juliet--would it be handsome to
interfere with Fergus's pretensions?--though it is impossible
they can ever succeed:  and should they miscarry, what then?--
why then ALORS COMME ALORS.'  And with this resolution, of being
guided by circumstances, did our hero commit himself to repose.



CHAPTER LV

A BRAVE MAN IN SORROW

If my fair readers should be of opinion that my hero's levity in
love is altogether unpardonable, I must remind them that all his
griefs and difficulties did not arise from that sentimental
source.  Even the lyric poet, who complains so feelingly of the
pains of love, could not forget, that, at the same time, he was
'in debt and in drink,' which, doubtless, were great aggravations
of his distress.  There were indeed whole days in which Waverley
thought neither of Flora nor Rose Bradwardine, but which were
spent in melancholy conjectures on the probable state of matters
at Waverley-Honour, and the dubious issue of the civil contest in
which he was pledged.  Colonel Talbot often engaged him in
discussions upon the justice of the cause he had espoused.
'Not,' he said, 'that it is possible for you to quit it at this
present moment, for, come what will, you must stand by your rash
engagement.  But I with you to be aware that the right is not
with you; that you are fighting against the real interests of
your country; and that you ought, as an Englishman and a patriot,
to take the first opportunity to leave this unhappy expedition
before the snowball melts.'

In such political disputes, Waverley usually opposed the common
arguments of his party, with which it is unnecessary to trouble
the reader.  But he had little to say when the Colonel urged him
to compare the strength by which they had undertaken to overthrow
the Government, with that which was now assembling very rapidly
for its support.  To this statement Waverley had but one answer:
'If the cause I have undertaken be perilous, there would be the
greater disgrace in abandoning it.'  And in his turn he generally
silenced Colonel Talbot, and succeeded in changing the subject.

One night, when, after a long dispute of this nature, the friends
had separated, and our hero had retired to bed, he was awakened
about midnight by a suppressed groan.  He started up and
listened; it came from the apartment of Colonel Talbot, which was
divided from his own by a wainscoted partition, with a door of
communication.  Waverley approached this door, and distinctly
heard one or two deep-drawn sighs.  What could be the matter?
The Colonel had parted from him, apparently, in his usual state
of spirits.  He must have been taken suddenly ill.  Under this
impression, he opened the door of communication very gently, and
perceived the Colonel, in his nightgown, seated by a table, on
which lay a letter and a picture.  He raised his head hastily, as
Edward stood uncertain whether to advance or retire, and Waverley
perceived that his cheeks were stained with tears.

As if ashamed at being found giving way to such emotion, Colonel
Talbot rose with apparent displeasure, and said, with some
sternness, 'I think, Mr. Waverley, my own apartment, and the
hour, might have secured even a prisoner against'--

'Do not say INTRUSION, Colonel Talbot; I heard you breathe hard,
and feared you were ill; that alone could have induced me to
break in upon you.'

'I am well,' said the Colonel, 'perfectly well.'

'But you are distressed,' said Edward:  'is there anything can be
done?'

'Nothing, Mr. Waverley:  I was only thinking of home, and of some
unpleasant occurrences there.'

'Good God, my uncle!'  exclaimed Waverley.

'No,--it is a grief entirely my own.  I am ashamed you should
have seen it disarm me so much; but it must have its course at
times, that it may be at others more decently supported.  I would
have kept it secret from you; for I think it will grieve you, and
yet you can administer no consolation.  But you have surprised
me,--I see you are surprised yourself,--and I hate mystery.  Read
that letter.

The letter was from Colonel Talbot's sister, and in these words:

'I received yours, my dearest brother, by Hodges.  Sir E. W. and
Mr. R. are still at large, but are not permitted to leave London.
I wish to Heaven I could give you as good an account of matters
in the square.  But the news of the unhappy affair at Preston
came upon us, with the dreadful addition that you were among the
fallen.  You know Lady Emily's state of health, when your
friendship for Sir E. induced you to leave her.  She was much
harassed with the sad accounts from Scotland of the rebellion
having broken out; but kept up her spirits as, she said, it
became your wife, and for the sake of the future heir, so long
hoped for in vain.  Alas, my dear brother, these hopes are now
ended!  Notwithstanding all my watchful care, this unhappy rumour
reached her without preparation.  She was taken ill immediately;
and the poor infant scarce survived its birth.  Would to God this
were all!  But although the contradiction of the horrible report
by your own letter has greatly revived her spirits, yet Dr--
apprehends, I grieve to say, serious, and even dangerous,
consequences to her health, especially from the uncertainty in
which she must necessarily remain for some time, aggravated by
the ideas she has formed of the ferocity of those with whom you
are a prisoner.

Do therefore, my dear brother, as soon as this reaches you,
endeavour to gain your release, by parole, by ransom, or any way
that is practicable.  I do not exaggerate Lady Emily's state of
health; but I must not--dare not--suppress the truth.--Ever, my
dear Philip, your most affectionate sister,       'LUCY TALBOT.'

Edward stood motionless when he had perused this letter; for the
conclusion was inevitable, that by the Colonel's journey in quest
of him, he had incurred this heavy calamity.  It was severe
enough, even in its irremediable part; for Colonel Talbot and
Lady Emily, long without a family, had fondly exulted in the
hopes which were now blasted.  But this disappointment was
nothing to the extent of the threatened evil; and Edward, with
horror, regarded himself as the original cause of both.

Ere he could collect himself sufficiently to speak, Colonel
Talbot had recovered his usual composure of manner, though his
troubled eye denoted his mental agony.

'She is a woman, my young friend, who may justify even a
soldier's tears.'  He reached him the miniature, exhibiting
features which fully justified the eulogium; 'and yet, God knows,
what you see of her there is the least of the charms she
possesses--possessed, I should perhaps say--but God's will be
done!'

'You must fly--you must fly instantly to her relief.  It is not
--it shall not be too late.'

'Fly!--how is it possible?  I am a prisoner--upon parole.'

'I am your keeper--I restore your parole-I am to answer for you.'

'You cannot do so consistently with your duty; nor can I accept a
discharge from you with due regard to my own honour--you would be
made responsible.'

'I will answer it with my head, if necessary,' said Waverley,
impetuously.  'I have been the unhappy cause of the loss of your
child--make me not the murderer of your wife.'

'No, my dear Edward,' said Talbot, taking him kindly by the hand,
'you are in no respect to blame; and if I concealed this domestic
distress for two days, it was lest your sensibility should view
it in that light.  You could not think of me, hardly knew of my
existence, when I left England in quest of you.  It is a
responsibility, Heaven knows, sufficiently heavy for mortality,
that we must answer for the foreseen and direct result of our
actions,--for their indirect and consequential operation, the
great and good Being, who alone can foresee the dependence of
human events on each other, hath not pronounced his frail
creatures liable.'

But that you should have left Lady Emily,' said Waverley, with
much emotion, 'in the situation of all others the most
interesting to a husband, to seek a--'

'I only did my duty,' answered Colonel Talbot, calmly, 'and I do
not, ought not to regret it.  If the path of gratitude and honour
were always smooth and easy, there would be little merit in
following it; but it moves often in contradiction to our interest
and passions, and sometimes to our better affections.  These are
the trials of life, and this, though not the least bitter' (the
tears came unbidden to his eyes), 'is not the first which it has
been my fate to encounter.  But we will talk of this to-morrow,'
he said, wringing Waverley's hands.  'Good night; strive to
forget it for a few hours.  It will dawn, I think, by six, and it
is now past two.  Good-night.'

Edward retired, without trusting his voice with a reply.



CHAPTER LVI

EXERTION

When Colonel Talbot entered the breakfast-parlour next morning,
he learned from Waverley's servant that our hero had been abroad
at an early hour, and was not yet returned.  The morning was well
advanced before he again appeared, He arrived out of breath, but
with an air of joy that astonished Colonel Talbot.

'There,' said he, throwing a paper on the table, 'there is my
morning's work.--Alick, pack up the Colonel's clothes.  Make
haste, make haste.'

The Colonel examined the paper with astonishment.  It was a pass
from the Chevalier to Colonel Talbot, to repair to Leith, or any
other port in possession of his Royal Highness's troops, and
there to embark for England or elsewhere, at his free pleasure;
he only giving his parole of honour not to bear arms against the
house of Stuart for the space of a twelvemonth.

'In the name of God,' said the Colonel, his eyes sparkling with
eagerness, 'how did you obtain this?'

'I was at the Chevalier's levee as soon as he usually rises.  He
was gone to the camp at Duddingston.  I pursued him thither;
asked and obtained an audience--but I will tell you not a word
more, unless I see you begin to pack.'

'Before I know whether I can avail myself of this passport, or
how it was obtained?'

'Oh, you can take out the things again, you know.--Now I see you
busy, I will go on.  When I first mentioned your name, his eyes
sparkled almost as bright as yours did two minutes since.  "Had
you," he earnestly asked, "shown any sentiments favourable to his
cause?"

"Not in the least, nor was there any hope you would do so." His
countenance fell.  I requested your freedom.  "Impossible," he
said;--"your importance, as a friend and confidant of such and
such personages, made my request altogether extravagant." I told
him my own story and yours and asked him to judge what my
feelings must be by his own.  He has a heart, and a kind one,
Colonel Talbot, you may say what you please.  He took a sheet of
paper, and wrote the pass with his own hand.  "I will not-trust
myself with my council," he said "they will argue me out of what
is right.  I will not endure that a friend, valued as I value
you, should be loaded with the painful reflections which must
afflict you in ease of further misfortune in Colonel Talbot's
family; nor will I keep a brave enemy a prisoner under such
circumstances.  Besides," said he, "I think I can justify myself
to my prudent advisers, by pleading the good effect such lenity
will produce on the minds of the great English families with whom
Colonel Talbot is connected."'

'There the politician peeped out,' said the Colonel.

'Well, at least he concluded like a king's son--"Take the
passport; I have added a condition for form's sake; but if the
Colonel objects to it, let him depart without giving any parole
whatever.  I come here to war with men, but not to distress or
endanger women."'

'Well, I never thought to have been so much indebted to the
Pretend--'

'To the Prince,' said Waverley, smiling.

'To the Chevalier,' said the Colonel; 'it is a good travelling
name, and which we may both freely use.  Did he say anything
more?'

'Only asked if there was anything else he could oblige me in; and
when I replied in the negative, he shook me by the hand, and
wished all his followers were as considerate, since some friends
of mine not only asked all he had to bestow, but many things
which were entirely out of his power, or that of the greatest
sovereign upon earth.  Indeed, he said, no prince seemed, in the
eyes of his followers, so like the Deity as himself, if you were
to judge from the extravagant requests which they daily preferred
to him.'

'Poor young gentleman!'  said the Colonel 'I suppose he begins to
feel the difficulties of his situation.  Well, dear Waverley,
this is more than kind, and shall not be forgotten while Philip
Talbot can remember anything.  My life--pshaw--let Emily thank
you for that--this is a favour worth fifty lives.  I cannot
hesitate on giving my parole in the circumstances:  there it is--
(he wrote it out in form)--and now, how am I to get off?'

'All that is settled:  your baggage is packed, my horses wait,
and a boat has been engaged, by the Prince's permission, to put
you on board the Fox frigate.  I sent a messenger down to Leith
on purpose.'

'That will do excellently well.  Captain Beaver is my particular
friend:  he will put me ashore at Berwick or Shields, from whence
I can ride post to London;--and you must entrust me with the
packet of papers which you recovered by means of your Miss Bean
Lean.  I may have an opportunity of using them to your
advantage.--But I see your Highland friend, Glen--what do you
call his barbarous name?  and his orderly with him--I must not
call him his orderly cut-throat any more, I suppose.  See how he
walks as if the world were his own, with the bonnet on one side
of his head, and his plaid puffed out across his breast!  I
should like now to meet that youth where my hands were not tied:
I would tame his pride, or he should tame mine,'

'For shame, Colonel Talbot!  you swell at sight of tartan, as the
bull is said to do at scarlet.  You and Mac-Ivor have some points
not much unlike, so far as national prejudice is concerned.'

The latter part of this discourse took place in the street.  They
passed the Chief, the Colonel and he sternly and punctiliously
greeting each other, like two duellists before they take their
ground.  It was evident the dislike was mutual.  'I never see
that surly fellow that dogs his heels,' said the Colonel, after
he had mounted his horse, 'but he reminds me of lines I have
somewhere heard--upon the stage, I think:

  --Close behind him
  Stalks sullen Bertram, like a sorcerer's fiend,
  Pressing to be employed.'

'I assure you, Colonel,' said Waverley,' that you judge too
harshly of the Highlanders.'

'Not a whit, not a whit; I cannot spare them a jot--I cannot bate
them an ace.  Let them stay in their own barren mountains, and
puff and swell, and hang their bonnets on the horns of the moon,
if they have a mind; but what business have they to come where
people wear breeches, and speak an intelligible language?  I mean
intelligible in comparison with their gibberish, for even the
Lowlanders talk a kind of English little better than the negroes
in Jamaica.  I could pity the Pr--, I mean the Chevalier himself,
for having so many desperadoes about him.  And they learn their
trade so early.  There is a kind of subaltern imp, for example, a
sort of sucking devil, whom your friend Glenna--Glennamuck there,
has sometimes in his train.  To look at him, he is about fifteen
years; but he is a century old in mischief and villany.  He was
playing at quoits the other day in the court; a gentleman--a
decent-looking person enough--came past, and as a quoit hit his
shin, he lifted his cane:  but my young brave whips out his
pistol, like Beau Clincher in the TRIP TO THE JUBILEE and had not
a scream of GARDEZ L'EAU from an upper window set all parties a-
scampering for fear of the inevitable consequences, the poor
gentleman would have lost his life by the hands of that little
cockatrice.'

'A fine character you'll give of Scotland upon your return,
Colonel Talbot.'

'Oh, Justice Shallow,' said the Colonel, 'will save me the
trouble--"Barren, barren--beggars all, beggars all.  Marry, good
air,"--and that only when you are fairly out of Edinburgh, and
not yet come to Leith, as is our case at present.'

In a short time they arrived at the seaport:

   The boat rocked at the pier of Leith,
   Full loud the wind blew down the ferry;
   The ship rode at the Berwick Law--

'Farewell, Colonel; may you find all as you would wish it!
Perhaps we may meet sooner than you expect:  they talk of an
immediate route to England.'

Tell me nothing of that,' said Talbot 'I wish to carry no news of
your motions.'

'Simply then, adieu.  Say, with a thousand kind greetings, all
that is dutiful and affectionate to Sir Everard and Aunt Rachel.
Think of me as kindly as you can--speak of me as indulgently as
your conscience will permit, and once more adieu.'

'And adieu, my dear Waverley!--many, many thanks for your
kindness.  Unplaid yourself on the first opportunity.  I shall
ever think on you with gratitude, and the worst of my censure
shall be, QUE DIABLE ALLOIT-IL FAIRE DANS CETTE GALERE?'

And thus they parted, Colonel Talbot going on board of the boat,
and Waverley returning to Edinburgh.



CHAPTER LVII

THE MARCH

It is not our purpose to intrude upon the province of history.
We shall therefore only remind our readers, that about the
beginning of November the Young Chevalier, at the head of about
six thousand men at the utmost, resolved to peril his cause on an
attempt to penetrate into the centre of England, although aware
of the mighty preparations which were made for his reception.
They set forward on this crusade in weather which would have
rendered any other troops incapable of marching, but which in
reality gave these active mountaineers advantages over a less
hardy enemy.  In defiance of a superior army lying upon the
Borders, under Field Marshal Wade, they besieged and took
Carlisle, and soon afterwards prosecuted their daring march to
the southward.

As Colonel Mac-Ivor's regiment marched in the van of the clans,
he and Waverley, who now equalled any Highlander in the endurance
of fatigue, and was become somewhat acquainted with their
language, were perpetually at its head.  They marked the progress
of the army, however, with very different eyes.  Fergus, all air
and fire, and confident against the world in arms, measured
nothing but that every step was a yard nearer London.  He neither
asked, expected, nor desired any aid, except that of the clans,
to place the Stuarts once more on the throne; and when by chance
a few adherents joined the standard, he always considered them in
the light of new claimants upon the favours of the future
monarch, who, he concluded, must therefore subtract for their
gratification so much of the bounty which ought to be shared
among his Highland followers.

Edward's views were very different.  He could not but observe,
that in those towns in which they proclaimed James the Third, 'no
man cried, God bless him.'  The mob stared and listened,
heartless, stupefied, and dull, but gave few signs even of that
boisterous spirit which induces them to shout upon all occasions,
for the mere exercise of their most sweet voices.  The Jacobites
had been taught to believe that the north-western counties
abounded with wealthy squires and hardy yeomen, devoted to the
cause of the White Rose.  But of the wealthier Tories they saw
little.  Some fled from their houses, some feigned themselves
sick, some surrendered themselves to the Government as suspected
persons.  Of such as remained, the ignorant gazed with
astonishment, mixed with horror and aversion, at the wild
appearance, unknown language, and singular garb, of the Scottish
clans.  And to the more prudent, their scanty numbers, apparent
deficiency in discipline; and poverty of equipment, seemed
certain tokens of the calamitous termination of their rash
undertaking.  Thus the few who joined them were such as bigotry
of political principle blinded to consequences, or whose broken
fortunes induced them to hazard all on a risk so desperate.

The Baron of Bradwardine being asked what he thought of these
recruits, took a long pinch of snuff, and answered drily, 'that
he could not but have an excellent opinion of them, since they
resembled precisely the followers who attached themselves to the
good King David at the cave of Adullam; VIDELICET, every one that
was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one
that was discontented, which the Vulgate renders bitter of soul;
and doubtless,' he said 'they will prove mighty men of their
hands, and there is much need that they should, for I have seen
many a sour look cast upon us.'

But none of these considerations moved Fergus.  He admired the
luxuriant beauty of the country, and the situation of many of the
seats which they passed.  'Is Waverley-Honour like that house,
Edward?'

'It is one half larger.'

'Is your uncle's park as fine a one as that?'

'It is three times; as extensive, and rather resembles a forest
than a mere park.'

'Flora, will be a happy woman.'

'I hope Miss Mac-Ivor will have much reason for happiness,
unconnected with Waverley-Honour.'

'I hope so too; but, to be mistress of such a place, will be a
pretty addition to the sum total.'

'An addition, the want of which, I trust, will be amply supplied
by some other means.'

'How,' said Fergus, stopping short, and turning upon Waverley--
'How am I to understand that, Mr. Waverley?--Had I the pleasure
to hear you aright?'

'Perfectly right, Fergus.'

'And I am to understand that you no longer desire my alliance,
and my sister's hand?'

'Your sister has refused mine,' said Waverley, 'both directly,
and by all the usual means by which ladies repress undesired
attentions.'

'I have no idea,' answered the Chieftain, 'of a lady dismissing
or a gentleman withdrawing his suit, after it has been approved
of by her legal guardian, without giving him an opportunity of
talking the matter over with the lady.  You did not, I suppose,
expect my sister to drop into your mouth like a ripe plum, the
first moment you chose to open it?'

'As to the lady's title to dismiss her lover, Colonel replied
Edward, 'it is a point which you must argue with her, as I am
ignorant of the customs of the Highlands in that particular.  But
as to my title to acquiesce in a rejection from her without an
appeal to your interest, I will tell you plainly, without meaning
to undervalue Miss Mac-Ivor's admitted beauty and
accomplishments, that I would not take the hand of an angel, with
an empire for her dowry, if her consent were extorted by the
importunity of friends and guardians, and did not flow from her
own free inclination.'

'An angel, with the dowry of an empire,' repeated Fergus, in a
tone of bitter irony, 'is not very likely to be pressed upon a
--shire squire.--But sir,' changing his tone, 'if Flora Mac-Ivor
have not the dowry of an empire, she is my sister; and that is
sufficient at least to secure her against being treated with
anything approaching to levity.'

She is Flora Mac-Ivor, sir,' said Waverley, with firmness, 'which
to me, were I capable of treating any woman with levity, would be
a more effectual protection.'

The brow of the Chieftain was now fully clouded, but Edward felt
too indignant at the unreasonable tone which he had adopted, to
avert the storm by the least concession.  They both stood still
while this short dialogue passed, and Fergus seemed half disposed
to say something more violent, but, by a strong effort,
suppressed his passion, and, turning his face forward, walked
sullenly on.  As they had always hitherto walked together, and
almost constantly side by side; Waverley pursued his course
silently in the same direction, determined to let the Chief take
his own time in recovering the good humour which he had so
unreasonably discarded, and firm in his resolution not to bate
him an inch of dignity.

After they had marched on in this sullen manner about a mile,
Fergus resumed the discourse in a different tone.  'I believe I
was warm, my dear Edward, but you provoke me with your want of
knowledge of the world.  You have taken pet at some of Flora's
prudery, or high-flying notions of loyalty, and now, like a
child, you quarrel with the plaything you have been crying for,
and beat me, your faithful keeper, because my arm cannot reach to
Edinburgh to hand it to you.  I am sure, if I was passionate, the
mortification of losing the alliance of such a friend, after your
arrangement had been the talk of both Highlands and Lowlands, and
that without so much as knowing why or wherefore, might well
provoke calmer blood than mine.  I shall write to Edinburgh, and
put all to rights; that is, if you desire I should do so,--as
indeed I cannot suppose that your good opinion of Flora, it being
such as you have often expressed to me, can be at once laid
aside.'

'Colonel Mac-Ivor,' said Edward, who had no mind to be hurried
farther or faster than he chose, in a matter which he had already
considered as broken off, 'I am fully sensible of the value of
your good offices; and certainly, by your zeal on my behalf in
such an affair, you do me no small honour.  But as Miss Mac-Ivor
has made her election freely and voluntarily, and as all my
attentions in Edinburgh were received with more than coldness, I
cannot, in justice either to her or myself, consent that she
should again be harassed upon this topic.  I would have mentioned
this to you some time since;--but you saw the footing upon which
we stood together, and must have understood it.  Had I thought
otherwise, I would have earlier spoken; but I had a natural
reluctance to enter upon a subject so painful to us both.'

'Oh, very well, Mr. Waverley,' said Fergus, haughtily, 'the thing
is at an end.  I have no occasion to press my sister upon any
man.'

'Nor have I any occasion to court repeated rejection from the
same young lady,' answered Edward, in the same tone.

'I shall make due inquiry, however,' said the Chieftain, without
noticing the interruption, 'and learn what my sister thinks of
all this:  we will then see whether it is to end here.'

'Respecting such inquiries, you will of course be guided by your
own judgement,' said Waverley.  'It is, I am aware, impossible
Miss Mac-Ivor can change her mind; and were such an unsupposable
case to happen, it is certain I will not change mine.  I only
mention this to prevent any possibility of future
misconstruction.'

Gladly at this moment would Mac-Ivor have put their quarrel to a
personal arbitrament;--his eye flashed fire, and he measured
Edward as if to choose where he might best plant a mortal wound.
But although we do not now quarrel according to the modes and
figures of Caranza or Vincent Saviola, no one knew better than
Fergus that there must be some decent pretext for a mortal duel.
For instance, you may challenge a man for treading on your corn
in a crowd, or for pushing you up to the wall, or for taking your
seat in the theatre; but the modern code of honour will not
permit you to found a quarrel upon your right of compelling a man
to continue addresses to a female relative, which the fair lady
has already refused.  So that Fergus was compelled to stomach
this supposed affront, until the whirligig of time, whose motion
he promised himself he would watch most sedulously, should bring
about an opportunity of revenge.

Waverley's servant always led a saddle-horse for him in the rear
of the battalion to which he was attached, though his master
seldom rode.  But now, incensed at the domineering and
unreasonable conduct of his late friend, he fell behind the
column, and mounted his horse, resolving to seek the Baron of
Bradwardine, and request permission to volunteer in his troop,
instead of the Mac-Ivor regiment.

'A happy time of it I should have had,' thought he, after he was
mounted, 'to have been so closely allied to this superb specimen
of pride and self-opinion and passion.  A colonel!  why, he
should have been a generalissimo.  A petty chief of three or four
hundred men!--his pride might suffice for the Cham of Tartary--
the Grand Seignior--the Great Mogul!  I am well free of him.
Were Flora an angel, she would bring with her a second Lucifer of
ambition and wrath for a brother-in-law.

The Baron, whose learning (like Sancho's jests while in the
Sierra Morena) seemed to grow mouldy for want of exercise,
joyfully embraced the opportunity of Waverley's offering his
service in his regiment, to bring it into some exertion.  The
good-natured old gentleman, however, laboured to effect a
reconciliation between the two quondam friends.  Fergus turned a
cold ear to his remonstrances, though he gave them a respectful
hearing; and as for Waverley, he saw no reason why he should be
the first in courting a renewal of the intimacy which the
Chieftain had so unreasonably disturbed.  The Baron then
mentioned the matter to the Prince, who, anxious to prevent
quarrels in his little army, declared he would himself
remonstrate with Colonel Mac-Ivor on the unreasonableness of his
conduct.  But, in the hurry of their march, it was a day or two
before he had an opportunity to exert his influence in the manner
proposed.

In the meanwhile, Waverley turned the instructions he had
received while in Gardiner's dragoons to some account, and
assisted the Baron in his command as a sort of adjutant.  'PARMI
LES AVEUGLES UN BORGNE EST ROI,' says the French proverb; and the
cavalry, which consisted chiefly of Lowland gentlemen, their
tenants and servants, formed a high opinion of Waverley's skill,
and a great attachment to his person.  This was indeed partly
owing to the satisfaction which they felt at the distinguished
English volunteer's leaving the Highlanders to rank among them;
for there was a latent grudge between the horse and foot, not
only owing to the difference of the services, but because most of
the gentlemen, living near the Highlands, had at one time or
other had quarrels with the tribes in their vicinity, and all of
them looked with a jealous eye on the Highlanders' avowed
pretensions to superior valour, and utility in the Prince's
service.



CHAPTER LVIII

THE CONFUSION OF KING AGRAMANT'S CAMP

It was Waverley's custom sometimes to ride a little apart from
the main body, to look at any object of curiosity which occurred
on the march.  They were now in Lancashire, when, attracted by a
castellated old hall, he left the squadron for half an hour, to
take a survey and slight sketch of it.  As he returned down the
avenue, he was met by Ensign Maccombich.  This man had contracted
a sort of regard for Edward since the day of his first seeing him
at Tully-Veolan, and introducing him to the Highlands.  He seemed
to loiter, as if on purpose to meet with our hero.  Yet, as he
passed him, he only approached his stirrup, and pronounced the
single word, 'Beware!'  and then walked swiftly on, shunning all
further communication.

Edward, somewhat surprised at this hint, followed with his eyes
the course of Evan, who speedily disappeared among the trees.
His servant, Alick Polwarth, who was in attendance, also looked
after the Highlander, and then riding up close to his master,
said,

'The ne'er be in me, sir, if I think you're safe amang thae
Highland rintherouts.'

'What do you mean, Alick?'  said Waverley.

'The Mac-Ivors, sir, hae gotten it into their heads, that ye hae
affronted their young leddy, Miss Flora; and I hae heard mae than
ane say, they wadna, tak muckle to make a black-cock o' ye; and
ye ken weel eneugh there's mony o' them wadna mind a bawbee the
weising a ball through the Prince himsell, an the Chief gae them
the wink--or whether he did or no,--if they thought it a thing
that would please him when it was dune.'

Waverley, though confident that Fergus Mac-Ivor was incapable of
such treachery, was by no means equally sure of the forbearance
of his followers.  He knew, that where the honour of the Chief or
his family was supposed to be touched, the happiest man would be
he that could first avenge the stigma; and he had often heard
them quote a proverb, 'That the best revenge was the most speedy
and most safe.'  Coupling this with the hint of Evan, he judged
it most prudent to set spurs to his horse, and ride briskly back
to the squadron.  Ere he reached the end of the long avenue,
however, a ball whistled past him, and the report of a pistol was
heard.

'It was that deevil's buckie, Callum Beg,' said Alick; I saw him
whisk away through amang the reises.'

Edward, justly incensed at this act of treachery, galloped out of
the avenue, and observed the battalion of Mac-Ivor at some
distance moving along the common, in which it terminated.  He
also saw an individual running very fast to join the party; this
he concluded was the intended assassin, who, by leaping an
enclosure, might easily make a much shorter path to the main body
than he could find on horseback.  Unable to contain himself, he
commanded Alick to go to the Baron of Bradwardine, who was at the
head of his regiment about half a mile in front, and acquaint him
with what had happened.  He himself immediately rode up to
Fergus's regiment.  The Chief himself was in the act of joining
them.  He was on horseback, having returned from waiting on the
Prince.  On perceiving Edward approaching, he put his horse in
motion towards him.

'Colonel Mac-Ivor,' said Waverley, without any further
salutation, 'I have to inform you that one of your people has
this instant fired at me from a lurking-place.

'As that,' answered Mac-Ivor, 'excepting the circumstance of a
lurking-place, is a pleasure which I presently propose to myself,
I should be glad to know which of my clansmen dared to anticipate
me.'

'I shall certainly be at your command whenever you please;--the
gentleman who took your office upon himself is your page there,
Callum Beg.'

'Stand forth from the ranks, Callum!  Did you fire at Mr.
Waverley?'

'No,' answered the unblushing Callum.

'You did,' said Alick Polwarth, who was already returned, having
met a trooper by whom he dispatched an account of what was going
forward to the Baron of Bradwardine, while he himself returned to
his master at full gallop, neither sparing the rowels of his
spurs, nor the sides of his horse.  'You did; I saw you as
plainly as I ever saw the auld kirk at Coudingham.'

'You lie,' replied Callum, with his usual impenetrable obstinacy.
The combat between the knights would certainly, as in the days of
chivalry, have been preceded by an encounter between the squires
(for Alick was a stout-hearted Merseman, and feared the bow of
Cupid far more than a Highlander's dirk or claymore), but Fergus,
with his usual tone of decision, demanded Callum's pistol.  The
cock was down, the pan and muzzle were black with the smoke; it
had been that instant fired.

'Take that,' said Fergus, striking the boy upon the head with the
heavy pistol-butt with his whole force, 'take that for acting
without orders, and lying to disguise it.'  Callum received the
blow without appearing to flinch from it, and fell without sign
of life.  'Stand still, upon your lives!'  said Fergus to the
rest of the clan; 'I blow out the brains of the first man who
interferes between Mr. Waverley and me.'  They stood motionless;
Evan Dhu alone showed symptoms of vexation and anxiety.  Callum
lay on the ground bleeding copiously, but no one ventured to give
him any assistance.  It seemed as if he had gotten his death-
blow.

'And now for you, Mr. Waverley; please to turn your horse twenty
yards with me upon the common.'  Waverley complied; and Fergus,
confronting him when they were a little way from the line of
march, said, with great affected coolness, 'I could not but
wonder, sir, at the fickleness of taste which you were pleased to
express the other day.  But it was not an angel, as you justly
observed, who had charms for you, unless she brought an empire
for her fortune.  I have now an excellent commentary upon that
obscure text.'

'I am at a loss even to guess at your meaning, Colonel Mac-Ivor,
unless it seems plain that you intend to fasten a quarrel upon
me.'

'Your affected ignorance shall not serve you, sir.  The Prince,
--the Prince himself, has acquainted me with your manoeuvres, I
little thought that your engagements with Miss Bradwardine were
the reason of your breaking off your intended match with my
sister.  I suppose the information that the Baron had altered the
destination of his estate, was quite a sufficient reason for
slighting your friend's sister, and carrying off your friend's
mistress.'

'Did the Prince tell you I was engaged to Miss Bradwardine?'
said Waverley.  'Impossible.'

'He did, sir,' answered Mac-Ivor; 'so, either draw and defend
yourself, or resign your pretensions to the lady.'

'This is absolute madness,' exclaimed Waverley, 'or some strange
mistake!'

'Oh!  no evasion!  draw your sword!'  said the infuriated
Chieftain,--his own already unsheathed.

'Must I fight in a madman's quarrel?'

'Then give up now, and for ever, all pretensions to Miss
Bradwardine's hand.'

'What title have you,' cried Waverley, utterly losing command of
himself,--'What title have you, or any man living, to dictate
such terms to me?'  And he also drew his sword.

At this moment the Baron of Bradwardine, followed by several of
his troop, came up on the spur, some from curiosity, others to
take part in the quarrel, which they indistinctly understood had
broken out between the Mac-Ivors and their corps.  The clan,
seeing them approach, put themselves in motion to support their
Chieftain, and a scene of confusion commenced, which seemed
likely to terminate in bloodshed.  A hundred tongues were in
motion at once.  The Baron lectured, the Chieftain stormed, the
Highlanders screamed in Gaelic, the horsemen cursed and swore in
Lowland Scotch.  At length matters came to such a pass, that the
Baron threatened to charge the Mac-Ivors unless they resumed
their ranks, and many of them, in return, presented their fire-
arms at him and the other troopers.  The confusion was privately
fostered by old Ballenkeiroch, who made no doubt that his own day
of vengeance was arrived, when, behold!  a cry arose of 'Room!
make way!--PLACE A MONSEIGNEUR!  PLACE A MONSEIGNEUR!'  This
announced the approach of the Prince, who came up with a party of
Fitz-James's foreign dragoons that acted as his bodyguard.  His
arrival produced some degree of order.  The Highlanders re-
assumed their ranks, the cavalry fell in and formed squadron, and
the Baron and Chieftain were silent.

The Prince called them and Waverley before him.  Having heard the
original cause of the quarrel through the villany of Callum Beg,
he ordered him into custody of the provost-marshal for immediate
execution, in the event of his surviving the chastisement
inflicted by his Chieftain.  Fergus, however, in a tone betwixt
claiming a right and asking a favour, requested he might be left
to his disposal, and promised his punishment should be exemplary.
To deny this, might have seemed to encroach on the patriarchal
authority of the Chieftains, of which they were very jealous, and
they were not persons to be disobliged.  Callum was therefore
left to the justice of his own tribe.

The Prince next demanded to know the new cause of quarrel between
Colonel Mac-Ivor and Waverley.  There was a pause.  Both
gentlemen found the presence of the Baron of Bradwardine (for by
this time all three had approached the Chevalier by his command)
an insurmountable barrier against entering upon a subject where
the name of his daughter must unavoidably be mentioned.  They
turned their eyes on the ground, with looks in which shame and
embarrassment were mingled with displeasure.  The Prince, who had
been educated amongst the discontented and mutinous spirits of
the court of St. Germains, where feuds of every kind were the
daily subject of solicitude to the dethroned sovereign, had
served his apprenticeship, as old Frederick of Prussia would have
said, to the trade of royalty.  To promote or restore concord
among his followers was indispensable.  Accordingly he took his
measures.

'Monsieur de Beaujeu!'

'Monseigneur!'  said a very handsome French cavalry officer, who
was in attendance.

'Ayez la bonte d'alligner ces montagnards la, ainsi que la
cavalerie, s'il vous plait, et de les remettre a la marche.  Vous
parlez si bien l'Anglois, cela ne vous donneroit pas beaucoup de
peine.'

'Ah!  pas de tout, Monseigneur,' replied Mons. le Comte de
Beaujeu, his head bending down to the neck of his little prancing
highly-managed charger.  Accordingly he PIAFFED away, in high
spirits and confidence, to the head of Fergus's regiment,
although understanding not a word of Gaelic, and very little
English.

'Messieurs les sauvages Ecossois--dat is--gentilmans savages,
have the goodness d'arranger vous.'

The clan, comprehending the order more from the gesture than the
words, and seeing the Prince himself present, hastened to dress
their ranks.

'Ah!  ver well!  dat is fort bien!'  said the Count de Beaujeu.
'Gentilmans sauvages--mais tres bien--Eh bien!--Qu'est-ce que
vous appellez visage, Monsieur?'  (to a lounging trooper who
stood by him).  'Ah, oui!  FACE--Je vous remercie, Monsieur.--
Gentilshommes, have de goodness to make de face to de right par
file, dat is, by files.--Marsh!--Mais tres bien--encore,
Messieurs; il faut vous mettre a la marche...Marchez donc, au nom
de Dieu, parceque j'ai oublie le mot Anglois--mais vous etes des
braves gens, et me comprenez tres bien.'

The Count next hastened to put the cavalry in motion.
'Gentilmans cavalry, you must fall in--Ah!  par ma foi, I did not
say fall off!  I am a fear de little gross fat gentilman is moche
hurt.  Ah, mon Dieu!  c'est le Commissaire qui nous a apporte les
premieres nouvelles de ce maudit fracas.  Je suis trop fache,
Monsieur!'

But poor Macwheeble, who, with a sword stuck across him, and a
white cockade as large as a pancake, now figured in the character
of a commissary, being overturned in the bustle occasioned by the
troopers hastening to get themselves in order in the Prince's
presence, before he could rally his galloway, slunk to the rear
amid the unrestrained laughter of the spectators.

'Eh bien, Messieurs, wheel to de right--Ah!  dat is it!--Eh,
Monsieur de Bradwardine, ayez la bonte de vous mettre a la tete
de votre regiment, car, par Dieu, je n'en puis plus!'

The Baron of Bradwardine was obliged to go to the assistance of
Monsieur de Beaujeu, after he had fairly expended his few English
military phrases.  One purpose of the Chevalier was thus
answered.  The other he proposed was, that in the eagerness to
hear and comprehend commands issued through such an indistinct
medium in his own presence, the thoughts of the soldiers in both
corps might get a current different from the angry channel in
which they were flowing at the time.

Charles Edward was no sooner left with the Chieftain and
Waverley, the rest of his attendants being at some distance, than
he said, 'If I owed less to your disinterested friendship, I
could be most seriously angry with both of you for this very
extraordinary and causeless broil, at a moment when my father's
service so decidedly demands the most perfect unanimity.  But the
worst of my situation is, that my very best friends hold they
have liberty to ruin themselves, as well as the cause they are
engaged in, upon the slightest caprice.'

Both the young men protested their resolution to submit every
difference to his arbitration.  'Indeed,' said Edward, 'I hardly
know of what I am accused.  I sought Colonel Mac-Ivor merely to
mention to him that I had narrowly escaped assassination at the
hand of his immediate dependent--a dastardly revenge, which I
knew him to be incapable of authorizing.  As to the cause for
which he is disposed to fasten a quarrel upon me, I am ignorant
of it, unless it be that he accuses me, most unjustly, of having
engaged the affections of a young lady in prejudice of his
pretensions.'

'If there is an error,' said the Chieftain, 'it arises from a
conversation which I held this morning with his Royal Highness
himself.'

'With me?'  said the Chevalier; 'how can Colonel Mac-Ivor have so
far misunderstood me?'

He then led Fergus aside, and, after five minutes' earnest
conversation, spurred his horse towards Edward.  'Is it possible
--nay, ride up, Colonel, for I desire no secrets--Is it possible,
Mr. Waverley, that I am mistaken in supposing that you are an
accepted lover of Miss Bradwardine?--a fact of which I was by
circumstances, though not by communication from you, so
absolutely convinced, that I alleged it to Vich Ian Vohr this
morning as a reason why, without offence to him, you might not
continue to be ambitious of an alliance, which to an unengaged
person, even though once repulsed, holds out too many charms to
be lightly laid aside.'

'Your Royal Highness,' said Waverley, 'must have founded on
circumstances altogether unknown to me, when you did me the
distinguished honour of supposing me an accepted lover of Miss
Bradwardine.  I feel the distinction implied in the supposition,
but I have no title to it.  For the rest, my confidence in my own
merits is too justly slight to admit of my hoping for success in
any quarter after positive rejection.'

The Chevalier was silent for a moment, looking steadily at them
both, and then said, 'Upon my word, Mr. Waverley, you are a less
happy man than I conceived I had very good reason to believe
you.--But now, gentlemen, allow me to be umpire in this matter,
not as Prince Regent, but as Charles Stuart, a brother adventurer
with you in the same gallant cause.  Lay my pretensions to be
obeyed by you entirely out of view, and consider your own honour,
and how far it is well, or becoming, to give our enemies the
advantage, and our friends the scandal, of showing that, few as
we are, we are not united.  And forgive me if I add, that the
names of the ladies who have been mentioned, crave more respect
from us all than to be made themes of discord.'

He took Fergus a little apart, and spoke to him very earnestly
for two or three minutes, and then returning to Waverley, said--
'I believe I have satisfied Colonel Mac-Ivor that his resentment
was founded upon a misconception, to which, indeed, I myself gave
rise; and I trust Mr. Waverley is too generous to harbour any
recollection of what is past, when I assure him that such is the
case.--You must state this matter properly to your clan, Vich
Iain Vohr, to prevent a recurrence of their precipitate
violence.'  Fergus bowed.  'And now, gentlemen, let me have the
pleasure to see you shake hands.'

They advanced coldly, and with measured steps, each apparently
reluctant to appear most forward in concession.  They did,
however, shake hands, and parted, taking a respectful leave of
the Chevalier.  Charles Edward [See Note 31.]  then rode to the
head of the Mac-Ivors, threw himself from his horse, begged a
drink out of old Ballenkeiroch's canteen, and marched about half
a mile along with them, inquiring into the history and connexions
of Sliochd nan Ivor, adroitly using the few words of Gaelic he
possessed, and affecting a great desire to learn it more
thoroughly.  He then mounted his horse once more, and galloped to
the Baron's cavalry, which was in front; halted them, and
examined their accoutrements and state of discipline; took notice
of the principal gentlemen, and even of the cadets; inquired
after their ladies, and commended their horses;--rode about an
hour with the Baron of Bradwardine, and endured three long
stories about Field-Marshal the Duke of Berwick.

'Ah, Beaujeu, mon cher ami,' said he as he returned to his usual
place in the line of march, 'que mon metier de prince errant est
ennuyant, par fois.  Mais, courage!  c'est le grand jeu, apres
tout.'



CHAPTER LIX

A SKIRMISH

The reader need hardly be reminded, that, after a council of war
held at Derby on the 5th of December, the Highlanders
relinquished their desperate attempt to penetrate farther into
England, and, greatly to the dissatisfaction of their young and
daring leader, positively determined to return northward.  They
commenced their retreat accordingly, and by the extreme celerity
of their movements, outstripped the motions of the Duke of
Cumberland, who now pursued them with a very large body of
cavalry.

This retreat was a virtual resignation of their towering hopes.
None had been so sanguine as Fergus Mac-Ivor; none, consequently,
was so cruelly mortified at the change of measures.  He argued,
or rather remonstrated, with the utmost vehemence at the council
of war; and, when his opinion was rejected, shed tears of grief
and indignation.  From that moment his whole manner was so much
altered, that he could scarcely have been recognized for the same
soaring and ardent spirit, for whom the whole earth seemed too
narrow but a week before.  The retreat had continued for several
days, when Edward, to his surprise, early on the 12th of
December, received a visit from the Chieftain in his quarters, in
a hamlet about half way between Shap and Penrith.

Having had no intercourse with the Chieftain since their rupture,
Edward waited with some anxiety an explanation of this unexpected
visit; nor could he help being surprised, and somewhat shocked,
with the change in his appearance.  His eye had lost much of its
fire; his cheek was hollow, his voice was languid; even his gait
seemed less firm and elastic than it was wont; and his dress, to
which he used to be particularly attentive, was now carelessly
flung about him.  He invited Edward to walk out with him by the
little river in the vicinity; and smiled in a melancholy manner
when he observed him take down and buckle on his sword.

As soon as they were in a wild sequestered path by the side of
the stream, the Chief broke out,--'Our fine adventure is now
totally ruined, Waverley, and I wish to know what you intend to
do:--nay, never stare at me, man.  I tell you I received a packet
from my sister yesterday, and, had I got the information it
contains sooner, it would have prevented a quarrel, which I am
always vexed when I think of.  In a letter written after our
dispute, I acquainted her with the cause of it; and she now
replies to me, that she never had, nor could have, any purpose of
giving you encouragement; so that it seems I have acted like a
madman.  Poor Flora!  she writes in high spirits; what a change
will the news of this unhappy retreat make in her state of mind!'

Waverley, who was really much affected by the deep tone of
melancholy with which Fergus spoke, affectionately entreated him
to banish from his remembrance any unkindness which had arisen
between them, and they once more shook hands, but now with
sincere cordiality.  Fergus again inquired of Waverley what he
intended to do.  'Had you not better leave this luckless army,
and get down before us into Scotland, and embark for the
Continent from some of the eastern ports that are still in our
possession?  When you are out of the kingdom, your friends will
easily negotiate your pardon; and, to tell you the truth, I wish
you would carry Rose Bradwardine with you as your wife, and take
Flora also under your joint protection.' Edward looked surprised
--'She loves you, and I believe you love her, though, perhaps,
you have not found it out, for you are not celebrated for knowing
your own mind very pointedly.'  He said this with a sort of
smile.

'How!'  answered Edward,' can you advise me to desert the
expedition in which we are all embarked?'

'Embarked?'  said Fergus; 'the vessel is going to pieces, and it
is full time for all who can, to get into the long-boat and leave
her.'

'Why, what will other gentlemen do?'  answered Waverley, 'and why
did the Highland chiefs consent to this retreat, if it is so
ruinous?'

'Oh,' replied Mac-Ivor, 'they think that, as on former occasions,
the heading, hanging, and forfeiting, will chiefly fall to the
lot of the Lowland gentry; that they will be left secure in their
poverty and their fastnesses, there, according to their proverb,
"to listen to the wind upon the hill till the waters abate."  But
they will be disappointed; they have been too often troublesome
to be so repeatedly passed over, and this time John Bull has been
too heartily frightened to recover his good humour for some time.
The Hanoverian ministers always deserved to be hanged for
rascals; but now, if they get the power in their hands,--as,
sooner or later, they must, since there is neither rising in
England nor assistance from France,--they will deserve the
gallows as fools, if they leave a single clan in the Highlands in
a situation to be again troublesome to Government.  Aye, they
will make root-and-branch work, I warrant them.'

'And while you recommend flight to me,' said Edward,--'a counsel
which I would rather die than embrace,--what are your own views?'

'Oh,' answered Fergus, with a melancholy air, 'my fate is
settled.  Dead or captive I must be before to-morrow.'

'What do you mean by that, my friend?'   said Edward.  'The enemy
is still a day's march in our rear, and if he comes up, we are
still strong enough to keep him in check.  Remember Gladsmuir.'

'What I tell you is true notwithstanding, so far as I am
individually concerned.'

'Upon what authority can you found so melancholy a prediction?'
asked Waverley.

'On one which never failed a person of my house.  I have seen,'
he said, lowering his voice, 'I have seen the Bodach Glas.'

'Bodach Glas?'

'Yes:  have you been so long at Glennaquoich, and never heard of
the Grey Spectre?  though indeed there is a certain reluctance
among us to mention him.'

'No, never.'

'Ah!  it would have been a tale for poor Flora to have told you.
Or, if that hill were Benmore, and that long blue lake, which you
see just winding towards yon mountainous country, were Loch Tay,
or my own Loch an Ri, the tale would be better suited with
scenery.  However, let us sit down on this knell; even Saddleback
and Ullswater will suit what I have to say better than the
English hedgerows, enclosures, and farm-houses.  You must know,
then, that when my ancestor, Ian nan Chaistel, wasted
Northumberland, there was associated with him in the expedition a
sort of Southland Chief, or captain of a band of Low-landers,
called Halbert Hall.  In their return through the Cheviots, they
quarrelled about the division of the great booty they had
acquired, and came from words to blows.  The Lowlanders were cut
off to a man, and their chief fell the last, covered with wounds
by the sword of my ancestor, Since that time, his spirit has
crossed the Vich Ian Vohr of the day when any great disaster was
impending, but especially before approaching death.  My father
saw him twice; once before he was made prisoner at Sheriff-Muir;
another time, on the morning of the day on which he died.'

'How can you, my dear Fergus, tell such nonsense with a grave
face?'

'I do not ask you to believe it; but I tell you the truth,
ascertained by three hundred years' experience at least, and last
night by my own eyes.'

'The particulars, for Heaven's sake!'  said Waverley, with
eagerness.

'I will, on condition you will not attempt a jest on the
subject.--Since this unhappy retreat commenced, I have scarce
ever been able to sleep for thinking of my clan, and of this poor
Prince, whom they are leading back like a dog in a string,
whether he will or no, and of the downfall of my family.  Last
night I felt so feverish that I left my quarters, and walked out,
in hopes the keen frosty air would brace my nerves--I cannot tell
how much I dislike going on, for I know you will hardly believe
me.  However--I crossed a small footbridge, and kept walking
backwards and forwards, when I observed with surprise, by the
clear moonlight, a tall figure in a grey plaid, such as shepherds
wear in the south of Scotland, which, move at what pace I would,
kept regularly about four yards before me.'

'You saw a Cumberland peasant in his ordinary dress, probably.'

'No:  I thought so at first, and was astonished at the man's
audacity in daring to dog me.  I called to him but received no
answer.  I felt an anxious throbbing at my heart; and to
ascertain what I dreaded, I stood still, and turned myself on the
same spot successively to the four points of the compass--By
Heaven, Edward, turn where I would, the figure was instantly
before my eyes, at precisely the same distance!  I was then
convinced it was the Bodach Glas.  My hair bristled, and my knees
shook.  I manned myself, however, and determined to return to my
quarters.  My ghastly visitant glided before me (for I cannot say
he walked), until he reached the footbridge:  there he stopped,
and turned full round.  I must either wade the river, or pass him
as close as I am to you.  A desperate courage, founded on the
belief that my death was near, made me resolve to make my way in
despite of him.  I made the sign of the cross, drew my sword, and
uttered, "In the name of God, Evil Spirit, give place!"  "Vich
Ian Vohr," it said, in a voice that made my very blood curdle,
"beware of to-morrow!" It seemed at that moment not half a yard
from my sword's point; but the words were no sooner spoken than
it was gone, and nothing appeared further to obstruct my passage.
I got home, and threw myself on my bed, where I spent a few hours
heavily enough; and this morning, as no enemy was reported to be
near us, I took my horse, and rode forward to make up matters
with you.  I would not willingly fall until I am in charity with
a wronged friend.'

Edward had little doubt that this phantom was the operation of an
exhausted frame and depressed spirits, working on the belief
common to all Highlanders in such superstitions.  He did not the
less pity Fergus, for whom, in his present distress, he felt all
his former regard revive.  With the view of diverting his mind
from these gloomy images, he offered with the Baron's permission,
which he knew he could readily obtain, to remain in his quarters
till Fergus's corps should come up, and then to march with them
as usual.  The Chief seemed much pleased, yet hesitated to accept
the offer.

'We are, you know, in the rear,--the post of danger in a
retreat.'

'And therefore the post of honour.'

'Well,' replied the Chieftain, 'let Alick have your horse in
readiness, in case we should be over-matched, and I shall be
delighted to have your company once more.'

The rearguard were late in making their appearance, having been
delayed by various accidents and by the badness of the roads.  At
length they entered the hamlet.  When Waverley joined the clan
Mac-Ivor, arm in arm with their Chieftain, all the resentment
they had entertained against him seemed blown off at once.  Evan
Dhu received him with a grin of congratulation; and even Callum,
who was running about as active as ever, pale indeed, and with a
great patch on his head, appeared delighted to see him.

'That gallows-bird's skull,' said Fergus, 'must be harder than
marble:  the lock of the pistol was actually broken.'

'How could you strike so young a lad so hard?'  said Waverley,
with some interest.

'Why, if I did not strike hard sometimes, the rascals would
forget themselves.'

They were now in full march, every caution being taken to prevent
surprise.  Fergus's people, and a fine clan regiment from
Badenoch, commanded by Cluny Mac-Pherson, had the rear.  They had
passed a large open moor, and were entering into the enclosures
which surround a small village called Clifton.  The winter sun
had set, and Edward began to rally Fergus upon the false
predictions of the Grey Spirit.  'The Ides of March are not
past,' said Mac-Ivor, with a smile; when, suddenly casting his
eyes back on the moor, a large body of cavalry was indistinctly
seen to hover upon its brown and dark surface.  To line the
enclosures facing the open ground, and the road by which the
enemy must move from it upon the village, was the work of a short
time.  While these manoeuvres were accomplishing, night sunk
down, dark and gloomy, though the moon was at full.  Sometimes,
however, she gleamed forth a dubious light upon the scene of
action.

The Highlanders did not remain long undisturbed in the defensive
position they had adopted.  Favoured by the night, one large body
of dismounted dragoons attempted to force the enclosures, while
another, equally strong, strove to penetrate by the high road.
Both were received by such a heavy fire as disconcerted their
ranks, and effectually checked their progress.  Unsatisfied with
the advantage thus gained, Fergus, to whose ardent spirit the
approach of danger seemed to restore all ifs elasticity, drawing
his sword, and calling out 'Claymore!'  encouraged his men, by
voice and example, to break through the hedge which divided them,
and rush down upon the enemy.  Mingling with the dismounted
dragoons, they forced them, at the sword-point, to fly to the
open moor, where a considerable number were cut to pieces.  But
the moon, which suddenly shone out, showed to the English the
small number of assailants, disordered by their own success.  Two
squadrons of horse moving to the support of their companions, the
Highlanders endeavoured to recover the enclosures.  But several
of them, amongst others their brave Chieftain, were cut off and
surrounded before they could effect their purpose.  Waverley,
looking eagerly for Fergus, from whom, as well as from the
retreating body of his followers, he had been separated in the
darkness and tumult, saw him, with Evan Dhu and Callum, defending
themselves desperately against a dozen of horsemen, who were
hewing at them with their long broadswords.  The moon was again
at that moment totally overclouded, and Edward, in the obscurity,
could neither bring aid to his friends, nor discover which way
lay his own road to rejoin the rear-guard.  After once or twice
narrowly escaping being slain or made prisoner by parties of the
cavalry whom he encountered in the darkness, he at length reached
an enclosure, and clambering over it, concluded himself in
safety, and on the way to the Highland forces, whose pipes he
heard at some distance.  For Fergus hardly a hope remained,
unless that he might be made prisoner.  Revolving his fate with
sorrow and anxiety, the superstition of the Bodach Glas recurred
to Edward's recollection, and he said to himself, with internal
surprise, 'What, can the devil speak truth?'  [See Note 32.]



CHAPTER LX

CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS

Edward was in a most unpleasant and dangerous situation.  He soon
lost the sound of the bagpipes; and, what was yet more
unpleasant, when, after searching long in vain, and scrambling
through many enclosures, he at length approached the high road,
he learned, from the unwelcome noise of kettledrums and trumpets,
that the English cavalry now occupied it, and consequently were
between him and the Highlanders.  Precluded, therefore, from
advancing in a straight direction, he resolved to avoid the
English military, and endeavour to join his friends by making a
circuit to the left, for which a beaten path deviating from the
main road in that direction seemed to afford facilities.  The
path was muddy, and the night dark and cold; but even these
inconveniences were hardly felt amidst the apprehensions which
falling into the hands of the King's forces reasonably excited in
his bosom.

After walking about three miles, he at length reached a hamlet.
Conscious that the common people were in general unfavourable to
the cause he had espoused, yet desirous, if possible, to procure
a horse and guide to Penrith, where he hoped to find the rear, if
not the main body, of the Chevalier's army, he approached the
ale-house of the place.  There was a great noise within:  he
paused to listen.  A round English oath or two, and the burden of
a campaign song, convinced him the hamlet also was occupied by
the Duke of Cumberland's soldiers.  Endeavouring to retire from
it as softly as possible, and blessing the obscurity which
hitherto he had murmured against, Waverley groped his way the
best he could along a small paling, which seemed the boundary of
some cottage garden.  As he reached the gate of this little
enclosure, his outstretched hand was grasped by that of a female,
whose voice at the same time uttered, 'Edward, is't thou, man?'

'Here is some unlucky mistake,' thought Edward, struggling, but
gently, to disengage himself.

'Naen o' thy foun, now; man, or the red cwoats will hear thee;
they hae been houlerying and poulerying every ane that past
alehouse door this noight to make them drive their wagons and
sick loike.  Come into feyther's, or they'll do ho a mischief.'

'A good hint,' thought Waverley, following the girl through the
little garden into a brick-paved kitchen, where she set herself
to kindle a match at an expiring fire, and with the match to
light a candle.  She had no sooner looked on Edward than she
dropped the light, with a shrill scream of 'O feyther!  feyther!'

The father, thus invoked, speedily appeared, a sturdy old farmer,
in a pair of leather breeches, and boots pulled on without
stockings, having just started from his bed;--the rest of his
dress was only a Westmoreland statesman's robe-de-chambre,--that
is, his shirt.  His figure was displayed to advantage, by a
candle which he bore in his left hand ; in his right he
brandished a poker.

What hast ho here, wench?'

'Oh!'  cried the poor girl, almost going off in hysterics, I
thought it was Ned Williams, and it is one of the plaid-men!'

'And what was thee ganging to do wi' Ned Williams at this time o'
noight?'  To this, which was, perhaps, one of the numerous class
of questions more easily asked than answered, the rosy-cheeked
damsel made no reply, but continued sobbing and wringing her
hands.

'And thee, lad, dost ho know that the dragoons be a town?  Dost
ho know that, mon?--ad, they'll sliver thee like a turnip, mon.'

'I know my life is in great danger,' said Waverley, 'but if you
can assist me, I will reward you handsomely, I am no Scotchman,
but an unfortunate English gentleman.'

'Be ho Scot or no,' said the honest farmer, 'I wish thou hadst
kept the other side of the hallan.  But since thou art here,
Jacob Jopson will betray no man's bluid; and the plaids were gay
canny, and did not so much mischief when they were here
yesterday.'  Accordingly, he set seriously about sheltering and
refreshing our hero for the night, The fire was speedily
rekindled, but with precaution against its light being seen from
without.  The jolly yeoman cut a rasher of bacon, which Cicely
soon broiled, and her father added a swingeing tankard of his
best ale.  It was settled, that Edward should remain there till
the troops marched in the morning, then hire or buy a horse from
the farmer, and, with the best directions that could be obtained,
endeavour to overtake his friends.  A clean, though coarse bed,
received him after the fatigues of this unhappy day.

With the morning arrived the news that the Highlanders had
evacuated Penrith, and marched off towards Carlisle; that the
Duke of Cumberland was in possession of Penrith, and that
detachments of his army covered the roads in every direction.  To
attempt to get through undiscovered, would be an act of the most
frantic temerity.  Ned Williams (the right Edward) was now called
to council by Cicely and her father, Ned, who perhaps did not
care that his handsome namesake should remain too long in the
same house with his sweetheart, for fear of fresh mistakes,
proposed that Waverley, exchanging his uniform and plaid for the
dress of the country, should go with him to his father's farm
near Ullswater, and remain in that undisturbed retirement until
the military movements in the country should have ceased to
render his departure hazardous.  A price was also agreed upon, at
which the stranger might board with Farmer Williams, if he
thought proper, till he could depart with safety.  It was of
moderate amount; the distress of his situation, among this honest
and simple-hearted race, being considered as no reason for
increasing their demand.

The necessary articles of dress were accordingly procured; and,
by following by-paths, known to the young farmer, they hoped to
escape any unpleasant rencontre, A recompense for their
hospitality was refused peremptorily by old Jopson and his
cherry-cheeked daughter; a kiss paid the one, and a hearty shake
of the hand the other.  Both seemed anxious for their guest's
safety, and took leave of him with kind wishes,

In the course of their route, Edward, with his guide, traversed
those fields which the night before had been the scene of action.
A brief gleam of December's sun shone sadly on the broad heath,
which, towards the spot where the great north-west road entered
the enclosures of Lord Lonsdale's property, exhibited dead bodies
of men and horses, and the usual companions of war--a number of
carrion-crows, hawks, and ravens.

'And this, then, was thy last field,' said Waverley to himself,
his eye filling at the recollection of the many splendid points
of Fergus's character, and of their former intimacy, all his
passions and imperfections forgotten.--'Here fell the last Vich
Ian Vohr, on a nameless heath; and in an obscure night-skirmish
was quenched that ardent spirit, who thought it little to cut a
way for his master to the British throne!  Ambition, policy,
bravery, all far beyond their sphere, here learned the fate of
mortals, The sole support, too, of a sister, whose spirit, as
proud and unbending, was even more exalted than thine own; here
ended all thy hopes for Flora, and the long and valued line which
it was thy boast to raise yet more highly by thy adventurous
valour!'

As these ideas pressed on Waverley's mind, he resolved to go upon
the open heath, and search if, among the slain, he could discover
the body of his friend, with the pious intention of procuring for
him the last rites of sepulture.  The timorous young man who
accompanied him remonstrated upon the danger of the attempt, but
Edward was determined.  The followers of the camp had already
stripped the dead of all they could carry away; but the country
people, unused to scenes of blood, had not yet approached the
field of action, though some stood fearfully gazing at a
distance.  About sixty or seventy dragoons lay slain within the
first enclosure, upon the high road, and on the open moor.  Of
the Highlanders, not above a dozen had fallen, chiefly those who,
venturing too far on the moor, could not regain the strong
ground.  He could not find the body of Fergus among the slain.
On a little knell, separated from the others, lay the carcasses
of three English dragoons, two horses, and the page Callum Beg,
whose hard skull a trooper's broadsword had, at length,
effectually cloven.  It was possible his clan had carried off the
body of Fergus; but it was also possible he had escaped,
especially as Evan Dhu, who would never leave his Chief, was not
found among the dead; or he might be prisoner, and the less
formidable denunciation inferred from the appearance of the
Bodach Glas might have proved the true one.  The approach of a
party, sent for the purpose of compelling the country people to
bury the dead, and who had already assembled several peasants for
that purpose, now obliged Edward to rejoin his guide, who awaited
him in great anxiety and fear under shade of the plantations.

After leaving this field of death, the rest of their journey was
happily accomplished.  At the house of Farmer Williams, Edward
passed for a young kinsman, educated for the church, who was come
to reside there till the civil tumults permitted him to pass
through the country.  This silenced suspicion among the kind and
simple yeomanry of Cumberland, and accounted sufficiently for the
grave manners and retired habits of the new guest, The precaution
became more necessary than Waverley had anticipated, as a variety
of incidents prolonged his stay at Fasthwaite, as the farm was
called.

A tremendous fall of snow rendered his departure impossible for
more than ten days.  When the roads began to become a little
practicable, they successively received news of the retreat of
the Chevalier into Scotland; then, that he had abandoned the
frontiers, retiring upon Glasgow; and that the Duke of Cumberland
had formed the siege of Carlisle.  His army, therefore, cut off
all possibility of Waverley's escaping into Scotland in that
direction.  On the eastern border, Marshal Wade, with a large
force, was advancing upon Edinburgh; and all along the frontier,
parties of militia, volunteers, and partisans, were in arms to
suppress insurrection, and apprehend such stragglers from the
Highland army as had been left in England, The surrender of
Carlisle, and the severity with which the rebel garrison were
threatened, soon formed an additional reason against venturing
upon a solitary and hopeless journey through a hostile country
and a large army, to carry the assistance of a single sword to a
cause which seemed altogether desperate.

In this lonely and secluded situation, without the advantage of
company or conversation with men of cultivated minds, the
arguments of Colonel Talbot often recurred to the mind of our
hero.  A still more anxious recollection haunted his slumbers--it
was the dying look and gesture of Colonel Gardiner.  Most
devoutly did he hope, as the rarely occurring post brought news
of skirmishes with various success, that it might never again be
his lot to draw his sword in civil conflict.  Then his mind
turned to the supposed death of Fergus, to the desolate situation
of Flora, and, with yet more tender recollection, to that of Rose
Bradwardine, who was destitute of the devoted enthusiasm of
loyalty, which, to her friend, hallowed and exalted misfortune.
These reveries he was permitted to enjoy, undisturbed by queries
or interruption;--and it was in many a winter walk by the shores
of Ullswater, that he acquired a more complete mastery of a
spirit tamed by adversity than his former experience had given
him; and that he felt himself entitled to say firmly, though
perhaps with a sigh, that the romance of his life was ended, and
that its real history had now commenced.  He was soon called upon
to justify his pretensions by reason and philosophy.



CHAPTER LXI

A JOURNEY TO LONDON

The family at Fasthwaite were soon attached to Edward.  He had,
indeed, that gentleness and urbanity which almost universally
attracts corresponding kindness; and to their simple ideas his
learning gave him consequence, and his sorrows interest.  The
last he ascribed, evasively, to the loss of a brother in the
skirmish near Clifton; and in that primitive state of society,
where the ties of affection were highly deemed of, his continued
depression excited sympathy, but not surprise.

In the end of January, his more lively powers were called out by
the happy union of Edward Williams, the son of his host, with
Cicely Jopson.  Our hero would not cloud with sorrow the
festivity attending the wedding of two persons to whom he was so
highly obliged.  He therefore exerted himself, danced, sang,
played at the various games of the day, and was the blithest of
the company.  The next morning, however, he had more serious
matters to think of.

The clergyman who had married the young couple was so much
pleased with the supposed student of divinity, that he came next
day from Penrith on purpose to pay him a visit.  This might have
been a puzzling chapter had he entered into any examination of
our hero's supposed theological studies; but fortunately he loved
better to hear and communicate the news of the day.  He brought
with him two or three old newspapers, in one of which Edward
found a piece of intelligence that soon rendered him deaf to
every word which the Reverend Mr. Twigtythe was saying upon the
news from the north, and the prospect of the Duke's speedily
overtaking and crushing the rebels.  This was an article in
these, or nearly these words:

'Died at his house, in Hill street, Berkeley Square, upon the
10th inst., Richard Waverley, Esq., second son of Sir Giles
Waverley of Waverley-Honour, &c. &c.  He died of a lingering
disorder, augmented by the unpleasant predicament of suspicion in
which he stood, having been obliged to find bail to a high
amount, to meet an impending accusation of high-treason.  An
accusation of the same grave crime hangs over his elder brother,
Sir Everard Waverley, the representative of that ancient family;
and we understand the day of his trial will be fixed early in the
next month, unless Edward Waverley, son of the deceased Richard,
and heir to the Baronet, shall surrender himself to justice.  In
that case, we are assured it is his Majesty's gracious purpose to
drop further proceedings upon the charge against Sir Everard.
This unfortunate young gentleman is ascertained to have been in
arms in the Pretender's service, and to have marched along with
the Highland troops into England.  But he has not been heard of
since the skirmish at Clifton, on the 18th December last.'

Such was this distracting paragraph.--'Good God!'  exclaimed
Waverley, 'am I then a parricide?--Impossible!  My father, who
never showed the affection of a father while he lived, cannot
have been so much affected by my supposed death as to hasten his
own.  No, I will not believe it,--it were distraction to
entertain for a moment such a horrible idea.  But it were, if
possible, worse than parricide to suffer any danger to hang over
my noble and generous uncle, who has ever been more to me than a
father, if such evil can be averted by any sacrifice on my part!'

While these reflections passed like the stings of scorpions
through Waverley's sensorium, the worthy divine was startled in a
long disquisition on the battle of Falkirk by the ghastliness
which they communicated to his looks, and asked him if he was
ill.  Fortunately the bride, all smirk and blush, had just
entered the room.  Mrs. Williams was none of the brightest of
women, but she was good-natured, and readily concluding that
Edward had been shocked by disagreeable news in the papers,
interfered so judiciously, that, without exciting suspicion, she
drew off Mr. Twigtythe's attention, and engaged it until he soon
after took his leave.  Waverley then explained to his friends,
that he was under the necessity of going to London with as little
delay as possible.

One cause of delay, however, did occur, to which Waverley had
been very little accustomed.  His purse, though well stocked when
he first went to Tully-Veolan, had not been reinforced since that
period; and although his life since had not been of a nature to
exhaust it hastily (for he had lived chiefly with his friends or
with the army), yet he found, that, after settling with his kind
landlord, he should be too poor to encounter the expense of
travelling post.  The best course, therefore, seemed to be, to
get into the great north road about Boroughbridge, and there take
a place in the Northern Diligence,--a huge old-fashioned tub,
drawn by three horses, which completed the journey from Edinburgh
to London (God willing, as the advertisement expressed it) in
three weeks.  Our hero, therefore, took an affectionate farewell
of his Cumberland friends, whose kindness he promised never to
forget, and tacitly hoped one day to acknowledge by substantial
proofs of gratitude.  After some petty difficulties and vexatious
delays, and after putting his dress into a shape better befitting
his rank, though perfectly plain and simple, he accomplished
crossing the country, and found himself in the desired vehicle,
VIS-A-VIS to Mrs. Nosebag, the lady of Lieutenant Nosebag,
adjutant and riding-master of the -- dragoons, a jolly woman of
about fifty, wearing a blue habit, faced with scarlet, and
grasping a silver-mounted horsewhip.

This lady was one of those active members of society who take
upon them FAIRE LE FRAIS DE CONVERSATION.  She had just returned
from the north, and informed Edward how nearly her regiment had
cut the petticoat people into ribands at Falkirk, 'only somehow
there was one of those nasty, awkward marshes, that they are
never without in ScotIand, I think, and so our poor dear little
regiment suffered something, as my Nosebag says, in that
unsatisfactory affair.  You, sir, have served in the dragoons?'
Waverley was taken so much at unawares, that he acquiesced.

'Oh, I knew it at once; I saw you were military from your air,
and I was sure you could be none of the foot-wobblers, as my
Nosebag calls them.  What regiment, pray?'  Here was a delightful
question.  Waverley, however, justly concluded that this good
lady had the whole army-list by heart; and, to avoid detection by
adhering to truth, answered--'Gardiner's dragoons, ma'am; but I
have retired some time.'

'Oh aye, those as won the race at the battle of Preston, as my
Nosebag says.  Pray, sir, were you there?'

'I was so unfortunate, madam,' he replied, 'as to witness that
engagement.'

'And that was a misfortune that few of Gardiner's stood to
witness, I believe, sir--ha!  ha!  ha!--I beg your pardon; but a
soldier's wife loves a joke.'

'Devil confound you!'  thought Waverley; 'what infernal luck has
penned me up with this inquisitive bag!'

Fortunately the good lady did not stick long to one subject.  'We
are coming to Ferrybridge, now,' she said, 'where there was a
party of OURS left to support the beadles, and constables, and
justices, and these sort of creatures that are examining papers
and stopping rebels, and all that.'  They were hardly in the inn
before she dragged Waverley to the window, exclaiming, 'Yonder
comes Corporal Bridoon, of our poor dear troop; he's coming with
the constable man:  Bridoon's one of my lambs, as Nosebag calls
'em.  Come, Mr. --a--a--pray, what 's your name, sir?'

'Butler, ma'am,' said Waverley, resolved rather to make free with
the name of a former fellow officer, than run the risk of
detection by inventing one not to be found in the regiment.

'Oh, you got a troop lately, when that shabby fellow, Waverley,
went over to the rebels.  Lord, I wish our old cross Captain
Crump would go over to the rebels, that Nosebag might get the
troop!--Lord, what can Bridoon be standing swinging on the bridge
for?  I'll be hanged if he a'nt hazy, as Nosebag says.--Come,
sir, as you and I belong to the service, we'll go put the rascal
in mind of his duty.'

Waverley, with feelings more easily conceived than described, saw
himself obliged to follow this doughty female commander.  The
gallant trooper was as like a lamb as a drunk corporal of
dragoons, about six feet high, with very broad shoulders, and
very thin legs, not to mention a great scar across his nose,
could well be.  Mrs. Nosebag addressed him with something which,
if not an oath, sounded very like one, and commanded him to
attend to his duty.  'You be d--d for a--,' commenced the gallant
cavalier; but, looking up in order to suit the action to the
words, and also to enforce the epithet which he meditated, with
an adjective applicable to the party, he recognized the speaker,
made his military salaam, and altered his tone.--'Lord love your
handsome face, Madam Nosebag, is it you?  Why, if a poor fellow
does happen to fire a slug of a morning, I am sure you were never
the lady to bring him to harm.'

'Well, you rascallion, go, mind your duty; this gentleman and I
belong to the service; but be sure you look after that shy cock
in the slouched hat that sits in the corner of the coach.  I
believe he's one of the rebels in disguise.'

'D--n her gooseberry wig!'  said the corporal, when she was out
of hearing.  'That gimlet-eyed jade--mother adjutant, as we call
her--is a greater plague to the regiment than prevot-marshal,
sergeant-major, and old Hubble-de-Shuff the colonel into the
bargain.--Come, Master Constable, let's see if this shy cock, as
she calls him' (who, by the way, was a Quaker from Leeds, with
whom Mrs. Nosebag had had some tart argument on the legality of
bearing arms), 'will stand godfather to a sup of brandy, for your
Yorkshire ale is cold on my stomach.'

The vivacity of this good lady, as it helped Edward out of this
scrape, was like to have drawn him into one or two others.  In
every town where they stopped, she wished to examine the CORPS DE
GARDE, if there was one, and once very narrowly missed
introducing Waverley to a recruiting-sergeant of his own
regiment.  Then she Captain'd and Butler'd him till he was almost
mad with vexation and anxiety; and never was he more rejoiced in
his life at the termination of a journey, than when the arrival
of the coach in London freed him from the attentions of Madam
Nosebag.



CHAPTER LXII

WHAT'S TO BE DONE NEXT?

It was twilight when they arrived in town; and having shaken off
his companions, and walked through a good many streets to avoid
the possibility of being traced by them, Edward took a hackney-
coach and drove to Colonel Talbot's house, in one of the
principal squares at the west end of the town.  That gentleman,
by the death of relations, had succeeded since his marriage to a
large fortune, possessed considerable political interest, and
lived in what is called great style.

When Waverley knocked at his door, he found it at first difficult
to procure admittance, but at length was shown into an apartment
where the Colonel was at table.  Lady Emily, whose very beautiful
features were still pallid from indisposition, sat opposite to
him.  The instant he heard Waverley's voice, he started up and
embraced him.  'Frank Stanley, my dear boy, how d'ye do?--Emily,
my love, this is young Stanley.'

The blood started to the lady's cheek as she gave Waverley a
reception, in which courtesy was mingled with kindness, while her
trembling hand and faltering voice showed how much she was
startled and discomposed.  Dinner was hastily replaced, and while
Waverley was engaged in refreshing himself, the Colonel
proceeded--'I wonder you have come here, Frank; the doctors tell
me the air of London is very bad for your complaints.  You should
not have risked it.  But I am delighted to see you, and so is
Emily, though I fear we must not reckon upon your staying long.'

'Some particular business brought me up,' muttered Waverley.

'I supposed so, but I sha'n't allow you to stay long.--Spontoon'
(to an elderly military-looking servant out of livery), 'take
away these things, and answer the bell yourself, if I ring.
Don't let any of the other fellows disturb us.--My nephew and I
have business to talk of.'

When the servants had retired, 'In the name of God, Waverley,
what has brought you here?  It may be as much as your life is
worth.'

'Dear Mr. Waverley,' said Lady Emily,' to whom I owe so much more
than acknowledgements can ever pity, how could you be so rash?'

'My father--my uncle--this paragraph,'--he handed the paper to
Colonel Talbot.

'I wish to Heaven' these scoundrels were condemned to be squeezed
to death in their own presses,' said Talbot.  'I am told there
are not less than a dozen of their papers now published in town,
and no wonder that they are obliged to invent lies to find sale
for their journals.  It is true, however, my dear Edward, that
you have lost your father; but as to this flourish of his
unpleasant situation having grated upon his spirits, and hurt his
health--the truth is--for though it is harsh to say so now, yet
it will relieve your mind from the idea of weighty
responsibility--the truth then is, that Mr. Richard Waverley,
through this whole business, showed great want of sensibility,
both to your situation and that of your uncle; and the last time
I saw him, he told me, with great glee, that, as I was so good as
to take charge of your interests, he had thought it best to patch
up a separate negotiation for himself, and make his peace with
Government through some channels which former connexions left
still open to him.'

'And my uncle--my dear uncle?'

'Is in no danger whatever.  It is true' (looking at the date of
the paper) 'there was a foolish report some time ago to the
purport here quoted, but it is entirely false.  Sir Everard is
gone down to Waverley-Honour, freed from all uneasiness, unless
upon your own account.  But you are in peril yourself--your name
is in every proclamation--warrants are out to apprehend you.  How
and when did you come here?'

Edward told his story at length, suppressing his quarrel with
Fergus; for being himself partial to Highlanders, he did not wish
to give any advantage to the Colonel's national prejudice against
them.

'Are you sure it was your friend Glen's footboy you saw dead in
Clifton Moor?'

'Quite positive.'

'Then that little limb of the devil has cheated the gallows, for
cut-throat was written in his face; though' (turning to Lady
Emily) 'it was a very handsome face too.--But for you, Edward, I
wish you would go down again to Cumberland, or rather I wish you
had never stirred from thence, for there is an embargo on all the
seaports, and a strict search for the adherents of the Pretender;
and the tongue of that confounded woman will wag in her head like
the clack of a mill, till somehow or other she will detect
Captain Butler to be a feigned personage,'

'Do you know anything,' asked Waverley, 'of my fellow traveller?'

'Her husband was my sergeant-major for six years; she was a buxom
widow, with a little money--he married her--was steady, and got
on by being a good drill.  I must send Spontoon to see what she
is about; he will find her out among the old regimental
connexions.  To-morrow you must be indisposed, and keep your room
from fatigue.  Lady Emily is to be your nurse, and Spontoon and I
your attendants.  You bear the name of a near relation of mine,
whom none of my present people ever saw, except Spontoon; so
there will be no immediate danger.  So pray feel your head ache
and your eyes grow heavy as soon as possible, that you may be put
upon the sick list; and, Emily, do you order an apartment for
Frank Stanley, with all the attention which an invalid may
require.'

In the morning the Colonel visited his guest.--'Now,' said he, 'I
have some good news for you.  Your reputation as a gentleman and
officer is effectually cleared of neglect of duty, and accession
to the mutiny in Gardiner's regiment.  I have had a
correspondence on this subject with a very zealous friend of
yours, your Scottish parson, Morton; his first letter was
addressed to Sir Everard; but I relieved the good Baronet of the
trouble of answering it.  You must know, that your freebooting
acquaintance; Donald of the Cave, has at length fallen into the
hands of the Philistines.  He was driving off the cattle of a
certain proprietor, called Killan--something or other--'

'Killancureit?'

'The same.  Now, the gentleman being, it seems, a great farmer,
and having a special value for his breed of cattle--being,
moreover, rather of a timid disposition, had got a party of
soldiers to protect his property.  So Donald ran his head
unawares into the lion's mouth, and was defeated and made
prisoner.  Being ordered for execution, his conscience was
assailed on the one hand by a Catholic priest,--on the other by
your friend Morton.  He repulsed the Catholic chiefly on account
of the doctrine of extreme unction, which this economical
gentleman considered as an excessive waste of oil.  So his
conversion from a state of impenitence fell to Mr. Morton's
share, who, I dare say, acquitted himself excellently, though, I
suppose, Donald made but a queer kind of Christian after all.  He
confessed, however, before a magistrate--one Major Melville, who
seems to have been a correct, friendly sort of person--his full
intrigue with Houghton, explaining particularly how it was
carried on, and fully acquitting you of the least accession to
it.  He also mentioned his rescuing you from the hands of the
volunteer officer, and sending you, by orders of the Pret--
Chevalier, I mean as a prisoner to Doune, from whence he
understood you were carried prisoner to Edinburgh.  These are
particulars which cannot but tell in your favour.  He hinted that
he had been employed to deliver and protect you, and rewarded for
doing so; but he would not confess by whom, alleging, that,
though he would not have minded breaking any ordinary oath to
satisfy the curiosity of Mr. Morton, to whose pious admonitions
he owed so much, yet in the present case he had been sworn to
silence upon the edge of his dirk, [See Note 33.]  which, it
seems, constituted, in his opinion, an inviolable obligation.'

'And what has become of him?'

'Oh, he was hanged at Stirling after the rebels raised the siege,
with his lieutenant, and four plaids besides; he having the
advantage of a gallows more lofty than his friends.'

'Well, I have little cause either to regret or rejoice at his
death; and yet he has done me both good and harm to a very
considerable extent.'

His confession, at least, will serve you materially, since it
wipes from your character all those suspicions which gave the
accusation against you a complexion of a nature different from
that with which so many unfortunate gentlemen, now or lately in
arms against the Government, may be justly charged.  Their
treason--I must give it its name, though you participate in its
guilt--is an action arising from mistaken virtue, and therefore
cannot be classed as a disgrace, though it be doubtless highly
criminal.  Where the guilty are so numerous, clemency must be
extended to far the greater number; and I have little doubt of
procuring a remission for you, provided we can keep you out of
the claws of justice till she has selected and gorged upon her
victims; for in this, as in other cases, it will be according to
the vulgar proverb, 'First come, first served.'  Besides,
Government are desirous at present to intimidate the English
Jacobites, among whom they can find few examples for punishment.
This is a vindictive and timid feeling which will soon wear off,
for, of all nations, the English are least bloodthirsty by
nature.  But it exists at present, and you must therefore be kept
out of the way in the meantime.'

Now entered Spontoon with an anxious countenance.  By his
regimental acquaintances he had traced out Madam Nosebag, and
found her full of ire, fuss, and fidget, at discovery of an
impostor, who had travelled from the north with her under the
assumed name of Captain Butler of Gardiner's dragoons.  She was
going to lodge an information on the subject, to have him sought
for as an emissary of the Pretender; but Spontoon (an old
soldier), while he pretended to approve, contrived to make her
delay her intention.  No time, however, was to be lost:  the
accuracy of this good dame's description might probably lead to
the discovery that Waverley was the pretended Captain Butler; an
identification fraught with danger to Edward, perhaps to his
uncle, and even to Colonel Talbot.  Which way to direct his
course was now, therefore, the question.

'To Scotland,' said Waverley.

'To Scotland!'  said the Colonel; 'with what purpose?--not to
engage again with the rebels, I hope?'

'No--I considered my campaign ended, when, after all my efforts,
I could not rejoin them; and now, by all accounts, they are gone
to make a winter campaign in the Highlands, where such adherents
as I am would rather be burdensome than useful.  Indeed, it seems
likely that they only prolong the war to place the Chevalier's
person out of danger, and then to make some terms for themselves.
To burden them with my presence would merely add another party,
whom they would not give up, and could not defend.  I understand
they left almost all their English adherents in garrison at
Carlisle, for that very reason:  and on a more general view,
Colonel, to confess the truth, though it may lower me in your
opinion, I am heartily tired of the trade of war, and am, as
Fletcher's Humorous Lieutenant says, "even as weary of this
fighting"--'

'Fighting!  pooh, what have you seen but a skirmish or two?-Ah!
if you saw war on the grand scale--sixty or a hundred thousand
men in the field on each side!'

'I am not at all curious, Colonel.--"Enough," says our homely
proverb, "is as good as a feast." The plumed troops and the big
war used to enchant me in poetry; but the night marches, vigils,
couched under the wintry sky, and such accompaniments of the
glorious trade, are not at all to my taste in practice:--then for
dry blows, I had my fill of fighting at Clifton, where I escaped
by a hair's-breadth half a dozen times; and you, I should think
--' He stopped.

'Had enough of it at Preston?  you mean to say,' answered the
Colonel, laughing; 'but, "'tis my vocation, Hal."'

'It is not mine, though,' said Waverley; 'and having honourably
got rid of the sword, which I drew only as a volunteer, I am
quite satisfied with my military experience, and shall be in no
hurry to take it up again.'

'I am very glad you are of that mind--but then, what would you do
in the North?'

'In the first place, there are some seaports on the eastern coast
of Scotland still in the hands of the Chevalier's friends; should
I gain any of them, I can easily embark for the Continent.'

'Good--your second reason?'

'Why, to speak the very truth, there is a person in Scotland upon
whom I now find my happiness, depends more than I was always
aware, and about whose situation I am very anxious.'

'Then Emily was right, and there is a love affair in the case
after all?--And which of these two pretty Scotchwomen, whom you
insisted upon my admiring, is the distinguished fair?--not Miss
Glen--I hope.'

'No.'

'Ah, pass for the other:  simplicity may be improved, but pride
and conceit never.  Well, I don't discourage you; I think it will
please Sir Everard, from what he said when I jested with him
about it; only I hope that intolerable papa, with his brogue, and
his snuff, and his Latin, and his insufferable long stories about
the Duke of Berwick, will find it necessary hereafter to be an
inhabitant of foreign parts.  But as to the daughter, though I
think you might find as fitting a match in England, yet if your
heart be really set upon this Scotch rosebud, why, the Baronet
has a great opinion of her father and of his family, and he
wishes much to see you married and settled, both for your own
sake and for that of the three ermines passant, which may
otherwise pass away altogether.  But I will bring you his mind
fully upon the subject, since you are debarred correspondence for
the present, for I think you will not be long in Scotland before
me.

Indeed!  and what can induce you to think of returning to
Scotland?  No relenting longings towards the land of mountains
and floods, I am afraid.'

'None, on my word; but Emily's health is now, thank God, re-
established, and, to tell you the truth, I have little hopes of
concluding the business which I have at present most at heart,
until I can have a personal interview with his Royal Highness the
Commander-in-Chief; for, as Fluellen says, "The duke doth love me
well, and I thank Heaven I have deserved some love at his hands."
I am now going out for an hour or two to arrange matters for your
departure; your liberty extends to the next room, Lady Emily's
parlour, where you will find her when you are disposed for music,
reading, or conversation.  We have taken measures to exclude all
servants but Spontoon, who is as true as steel.'

In about two hours Colonel Talbot returned, and found his young
friend conversing with his lady; she pleased with his manners and
information, and he delighted at being restored, though but for a
moment, to the society of his own rank, from which he had been
for some time excluded.'

'And now,' said the Colonel, 'hear my arrangements, for there is
little time to lose.  This youngster, Edward Waverley, ALIAS
Williams, ALIAS Captain Butler, must continue to pass by his
fourth ALIAS of Francis Stanley, my nephew:  he shall set out
to-morrow for the North, and the chariot shall take him the first
two stages.'  Spontoon shall then attend him; and they shall ride
post as far as Huntingdon; and the presence of Spontoon, well
known on the road as my servant, will check all disposition to
inquiry.  At Huntingdon you will meet the real Frank Stanley.  He
is studying at Cambridge; but, a little while ago, doubtful if
Emily's health would permit me to go down to the North myself, I
procured him a passport from the Secretary of State's office to
go in my stead.  As he went chiefly to look after you, his
journey is now unnecessary.  He knows your story; you will dine
together at Huntingdon; and perhaps your wise heads may hit upon
some plan for removing or diminishing the danger of your further
progress northward.  And now' (taking out a morocco case), 'let
me put you in funds for the campaign.'

'I am ashamed, my dear Colonel,--'

'Nay,' said Colonel Talbot, 'you should command my purse in any
event; but this money is your own.  Your father, considering the
chance of your being attainted, left me his trustee for your
advantage.  So that you are worth above L15,000, besides
Brerewood Lodge--a very independent person, I promise you.  There
are bills here for L200; any larger sum you may have, or credit
abroad, as soon as your motions require it.'

The first use which occurred to Waverley of his newly-acquired
wealth, was to write to honest Farmer Jopson, requesting his
acceptance of a silver tankard on the part of his friend
Williams, who had not forgotten the night of the eighteenth
December last.  He begged him at the same time carefully to
preserve for him his Highland garb and accoutrements,
particularly the arms--curious in themselves, and to which the
friendship of the donors gave additional value.  Lady Emily
undertook to find some suitable token of remembrance, likely to
flatter the vanity and please the taste of Mrs. Williams; and the
Colonel, who was a kind of farmer, promised to send the Ullswater
patriarch an excellent team of horses for cart and plough.

One happy day Waverley spent in London; and, travelling in the
manner projected, he met with Frank Stanley at Huntingdon.  The
two young men were acquainted in a minute.

'I can read my uncle's riddle,' said Stanley.  'The cautious old
soldier did not care to hint to me that I might hand over to you
this passport, which I have no occasion for; but if it should
afterwards come out as the rattlepated trick of a young Cantab,
CELA NE TIRE A RIEN.  You are therefore to be Francis Stanley,
with this passport.'  This proposal appeared in effect to
alleviate a great part of the difficulties which Edward must
otherwise have encountered at every turn; and accordingly he
scrupled not to avail himself of it, the more especially as he
had discarded all political purposes from his present journey,
and could not be accused of furthering machinations against the
Government while travelling under protection of the Secretary's
passport.

The day passed merrily away.  The young student was inquisitive
about Waverley's campaigns, and the manners of the Highlands; and
Edward was obliged to satisfy his curiosity by whistling a
pibroch, dancing a strathspey, and singing a Highland song.  The
next morning Stanley rode a stage northward with his new friend,
and parted from him with great reluctance, upon the remonstrances
of Spontoon, who, accustomed to submit to discipline, was rigid
in enforcing it.



CHAPTER LXIII

DESOLATION

Waverly riding post, as was the usual fashion of the period,
without any adventure save one or two queries, which the talisman
of his passport sufficiently answered, reached the borders of
Scotland.  Here he heard the tidings of the decisive battle of
Culloden.  It was no more than he had long expected, though the
success at Falkirk had thrown a faint and setting gleam over the
arms of the Chevalier.  Yet it came upon him like a shock, by
which he was for a time altogether unmanned.  The generous, the
courteous, the noble-minded Adventurer, was then a fugitive, with
a price upon his head; his adherents, so brave, so enthusiastic,
so faithful, were dead, imprisoned, or exiled.  Where, now, was
the exalted and high-souled Fergus, if, indeed, he had survived
the night at Clifton?--where the pure-hearted and primitive Baron
of Bradwardine, whose foibles seemed foils to set off the
disinterestedness of his disposition, the genuine goodness of his
heart, and his unshaken courage?  Those who clung for support to
these fallen columns, Rose and Flora,--where were they to be
sought, and in what distress must not the loss of their natural
protectors have involved them?  Of Flora he thought with the
regard of a brother for a sister--of Rose, with a sensation yet
more deep and tender.  It might be still his fate to supply the
want of those guardians they had lost.  Agitated by these
thoughts, he precipitated his journey.

When he arrived in Edinburgh, where his inquiries must
necessarily commence, he felt the full difficulty of his
situation.  Many inhabitants of that city had seen and known him
as Edward Waverley; how, then, could he avail himself of a
passport as Francis Stanley?  He resolved, there-fore, to avoid
all company, and to move northward as soon as possible.  He was,
however, obliged to wait a day or two in expectation of a letter
from Colonel Talbot, and he was also to leave his own address,
under his feigned character, at a place agreed upon.  With this
latter purpose he sallied out in the dusk through the well-known
streets, carefully shunning observation,--but in vain:  one of
the first persons whom he met at once recognized him, It was Mrs.
Flockhart, Fergus Mac-Ivor's good-humoured landlady.

'Gude guide us, Mr. Waverley, is this you?--na, ye needna be
feared for me--I wad betray nae gentleman in your circumstances.
Eh, lack-a-day!  lack-a-day!  here's a change o' markets!  how
merry Colonel Mac-Ivor and you used to be in our house!'  And the
good-natured widow shed a few natural tears.  As there was no
resisting her claim of acquaintance, Waverley acknowledged it
with a good grace, as well as the danger of his own situation.
'As it's near the darkening, sir, wad ye just step in by to our
house, and tak a dish o' tea?  and I am sure, if ye like to sleep
in the little room, I wad tak care ye are no disturbed, and
naebody wad ken ye; for Kate and Matty, the limmers, gaed aff wi'
twa o' Hawley's dragoons, and I hae twa new queans instead o'
them.'

Waverley accepted her invitation, and engaged her lodging for a
night or two, satisfied he should be safer in the house of this
simple creature than anywhere else.  When he entered the parlour,
his heart swelled to see Fergus's bonnet, with the white cockade,
hanging beside the little mirror.

'Aye,' said Mrs. Flockhart, sighing, as she observed the
direction of his eyes, 'the puir Colonel bought a new ane just
the day before they marched, and I winna let them tak that ane
doun, but just to brush it ilka day mysell; and whiles I look at
it till I just think I hear him cry to Callum to bring him his
bonnet, as he used to do when he was ganging out.--It's unco
silly--the neighbours ca' me a Jacobite--but they may say their
say--I am sure it's no for that--but he was as kind-hearted a
gentleman as ever lived, and as weel-fa'rd too.  Oh, d'ye ken,
sir, when he is to suffer?'

'Suffer!  Good heaven!--Why, where is he?'

'Eh, Lord's sake!  d'ye no ken?  The poor Hieland body, Dugald
Mahoney, cam here a while syne, wi' ane o' his arms cuttit off,
and a sair clour in the head--ye'll mind Dugald?  he carried aye
an axe on his shouther--and he cam here just begging, as I may
say, for something to eat.  Aweel, he tauld us the Chief, as they
ca'd him (but I aye ca' him the Colonel), and Ensign Maccombich,
that ye mind weel, were ta'en somewhere beside the English
border, when it was sae dark that his folk never missed him till
it was ower late, and they were like to gang clean daft.  And he
said that little Callum Beg (he was a bauld mischievous callant
that), and your honour, were killed that same night in the
tuilzie, and mony mae braw men.  But he grat when he spak o' the
Colonel, ye never saw tie like.  And now the word gangs, the
Colonel is to be tried, and to suffer wi' them that were ta'en at
Carlisle.'

'And his sister?'

'Aye, that they ca'd the Lady Flora--weel, she's away up to
Carlisle to him, and lives wi' some grand Papist lady
thereabouts, to be near him.'

'And,' said Edward, 'the other young lady?'

'Whilk other?  I ken only of ae sister the Colonel had.'

'I mean Miss Bradwardine,' said Edward.

'Ou aye, the laird's daughter,' said his landlady.  'She was a
very bonny lassie, poor thing, but far shyer than Lady Flora.'

'Where is she, for God's sake?'

'Ou, wha kens where ony o' them is now?  Puir things, they're
sair ta'en doun for their white cockades and their white roses;
but she gaed north to her father's in Perthshire, when the
Government troops cam back to Edinbro'.  There was some pretty
men amang them, and ane Major Whacker was quartered on me, a very
ceevil gentleman,--but oh, Mr. Waverley, he was naething sae
weel-fa'rd as the puir Colonel.'

'Do you know what is become of Miss Bradwardine's father?'

'The auld laird?--na, naebody kens that; but they say he fought
very hard in that bluidy battle at Inverness; and Deacon Clark,
the white-iron smith, says, that the Government folk are sair
agane him for having been OUT twice; and troth he might hae ta'en
warning,--but there's nae fule like an auld fule--the puir
Colonel was only out ance.'

Such conversation contained almost all the good-natured widow
knew of the fate of her late lodgers and acquaintances; but it
was enough to determine Edward at all hazards to proceed
instantly to Tully-Veolan, where he concluded he should see, or
at least hear, something of Rose.  He therefore left a letter for
Colonel Talbot at the place agreed upon, signed by his assumed
name, and giving for his address the post-town next to the
Baron's residence.

From Edinburgh to Perth he took post-horses, resolving to make
the rest of his journey on foot--a mode of travelling to which he
was partial, and which had the advantage of permitting a
deviation from the road when he saw parties of military at a
distance.  His campaign had considerably strengthened his
constitution, and improved his habits of enduring fatigue.  His
baggage he sent before him as opportunity occurred.

As he advanced northward, the traces of war became visible.
Broken carriages, dead horses, unroofed cottages, trees felled
for palisades, and bridges destroyed, or only partially
repaired,--all indicated the movements of hostile armies.  In
those places where the gentry were attached to the Stuart cause,
their houses seemed dismantled or deserted, the usual course of
what may be called ornamental labour was totally interrupted, and
the inhabitants were seen gliding about, with fear, sorrow, and
dejection on their faces.

It was evening when he approached the village of Tully-Veolan,
with feelings and sentiments--how different from those which
attended his first entrance!  Then, life was so new to him, that
a dull or disagreeable day was one of the greatest misfortunes
which his imagination anticipated, and it seemed to him that his
time ought only to be consecrated to elegant or amusing study,
and relieved by social or youthful frolic.  Now, how changed!
how saddened, yet how elevated was his character, within the
course of a very few months!  Danger and misfortune are rapid,
though severe teachers.  'A sadder and a wiser man,' he felt, in
internal confidence and mental dignity, a compensation for the
gay dreams which, in his case, experience had so rapidly
dissolved.

As he approached the village, he saw, with surprise and anxiety,
that a party of soldiers were quartered near it, and, what was
worse, that they seemed stationary there.  This he conjectured
from a few tents which he beheld glimmering upon what was called
the Common Moor.  To avoid the risk of being stopped and
questioned in a place where he was so likely to be recognized, he
made a large circuit, altogether avoiding the hamlet, and
approaching the upper gate of the avenue by a by-path well known
to him.  A single glance announced that great changes had taken
place.  One half of the gate, entirely destroyed and split up for
firewood, lay in piles, ready to be taken away; the other swung
uselessly about upon its loosened hinges.  The battlements above
the gate were broken and thrown down, and the carved Bears, which
were said to have done sentinel's duty upon the top for
centuries, now, hurled from their posts, lay among the rubbish.
The avenue was cruelly wasted.  Several large trees were felled
and left lying across the path; and the cattle of the villagers,
and the more rude hoofs of dragoon horses, had poached into black
mud the verdant turf which Waverley had so much admired.

Upon entering the courtyard, Edward saw the fears realized which
these circumstances had excited.  The place had been sacked by
the King's troops, who, in wanton mischief, had even attempted to
burn it; and though the thickness of the walls had resisted the
fire, unless to a partial extent, the stables and out-houses were
totally consumed.  The towers and pinnacles of the main building
were scorched and blackened; the pavement of the court broken and
shattered; the doors torn down entirely, or hanging by a single
hinge; the windows dashed in and demolished; and the court
strewed with articles of furniture broken into fragments.  The
accessories of ancient distinction, to which the Baron, in the
pride of his heart, had attached so much importance and
veneration, were treated with peculiar contumely.  The fountain
was demolished, and the spring which had supplied it now flooded
the courtyard.  The stone basin seemed to be destined for a
drinking-trough for cattle, from the manner in which it was
arranged upon the ground.  The whole tribe of Bears, large and
small, had experienced as little favour as those at the head of
the avenue; and one or two of the family pictures, which seemed
to have served as targets for the soldiers, lay on the ground in
tatters.  With an aching heart, as may well be imagined, Edward
viewed this wreck of a mansion so respected.  But his anxiety to
learn the fate of the proprietors, and his fears as to what that
fate might be, increased with every step.  When he entered upon
the terrace, new scenes of desolation were visible.  The
balustrade was broken down, the walls destroyed, the borders
overgrown with weeds, and the fruit-trees cut down or grubbed up.
In one compartment of this old-fashioned garden were two immense
horse-chestnut trees, of whose size the Baron was particularly
vain:  too lazy, perhaps, to cut them down, the spoilers, with
malevolent ingenuity, had mined them, and placed a quantity of
gunpowder in the cavity.  One had been shivered to pieces by the
explosion, and the fragments lay scattered around, encumbering
the ground it had so long shadowed.  The other mine had been more
partial in its effect.  About one-fourth of the trunk of the tree
was torn from the mass, which, mutilated and defaced on the one
side, still spread on the other its ample and undiminished
boughs.  [A pair of chestnut trees, destroyed, the one entirely,
and the other in part, by such a mischievous and wanton act of
revenge, grew at Invergarry Castle, the fastness of Macdonald of
Glengarry.]

Amid these general marks of ravage, there were some which more
particularly addressed the feelings of Waverley.  Viewing the
front of the building, thus wasted and defaced, his eyes
naturally sought the little balcony which more properly belonged
to Rose's apartment--her TROISIEME, or rather CINQUIEME ETAGE.
It was easily discovered, for beneath it lay the stage-flowers
and shrubs with which it was her pride to decorate it, and which
had been hurled from the bartizan:  several of her books were
mingled with broken flower-pots and other remnants.  Among these,
Waverley distinguished one of his own, a small copy of Ariosto,
and gathered it as a treasure, though wasted by the wind and
rain.

While, plunged in the sad reflections which the scene excited, he
was looking around for some one who might explain the fate of the
inhabitants, he heard a voice from the interior of the building
singing, in well-remembered accents, an old Scottish song:

  They came upon us in the night,
  And brake my bower and slew my knight:
  My servants a' for life did flee,
  And left us in extremitie,

  They slew my knight, to me sae dear;
  They slew my knight, and drave his gear;
  The moon may set, the sun may rise,
  But a deadly sleep has closed his eyes.
  [The first three couplets are from an old ballad, called the
  Border Widow's Lament.]

'Alas!'  thought Edward, 'is it thou?  Poor helpless being, art
thou alone left, to gibber and moan, and fill with thy wild and
unconnected scraps of minstrelsy the halls that protected thee?'
--He then called, first low, and then louder, 'Davie--Davie
Gellatley!'

The poor simpleton showed himself from among the ruins of a sort
of greenhouse, that once terminated what was called the Terrace-
walk, but at first sight of a stranger retreated, as if in
terror.  Waverley, remembering his habits, began to whistle a
tune to which he was partial, which Davie had expressed great
pleasure in listening to, and had picked up from him by the ear.
Our hero's minstrelsy no more equalled that of Blondel, than poor
Davie resembled Coeur de Lion; but the melody had the same effect
of producing recognition.  Davie again stole from his lurking-
place, but timidly, while Waverley, afraid of frightening him,
stood making the most encouraging signals he could devise.--'It's
his ghaist,' muttered Davie; yet, coming nearer, he seemed to
acknowledge his living acquaintance.  The poor fool himself
appeared the ghost of what he had been.  The peculiar dress in
which he had been attired in better days, showed only miserable
rags of its whimsical finery, the lack of which was oddly
supplied by the remnants of tapestried hangings, window-curtains,
and shreds of pictures, with which he had bedizened his tatters.
His face, too, had lost its vacant and careless air, and the poor
creature looked hollow-eyed, meagre, half-starved, and nervous to
a pitiable degree.--After long hesitation, he at length
approached Waverley with some confidence, stared him sadly in the
face, and said, 'A' dead and gane--a' dead and gane!'

'Who are dead?'  said Waverley, forgetting the incapacity of
Davie to hold any connected discourse.

'Baron--and Bailie and Saunders Saunderson and Lady Rose, that
sang sae sweet--A' dead and gane--dead and gane!

  But follow, follow me,
  While glow-worms light the lea;
  I'll show you where the dead should be--
  Each in his shroud,
  While winds pipe loud,
  And the red moon peeps dim through the cloud.
  Follow, follow me;
  Brave should he be
  That treads by night the dead man's lea.'

With these' words, chanted in a wild and earnest tone, he made a
sign to Waverley to follow him, and walked rapidly towards the
bottom of the garden, tracing the bank of the stream, which, it
may be remembered, was its eastern boundary.  Edward, over whom
an involuntary shuddering stole at the import of his words,
followed him in some hope of an explanation.  As the house was
evidently deserted, he could not expect to find among the ruins
any more rational informer.

Davie, walking very fast, soon reached the extremity of the
garden, and scrambled over the ruins of the wall that once had
divided it from the wooded glen in which the old Tower of Tully-
Veolan was situated.  He then jumped down into the bed of the
stream, and, followed by Waverley, proceeded at a great pace,
climbing over some fragments of rock, and turning with difficulty
round others.  They passed beneath the ruins of the castle;
Waverley followed, keeping up with his guide with difficulty, for
the twilight began to fall.  Following the descent of the stream
a little lower, he totally lost him, but a twinkling light, which
he now discovered among the tangled copse-wood and bushes, seemed
a surer guide.  He soon pursued a very uncouth path; and by its
guidance at length reached the door of a wretched hut.  A fierce
barking of dogs was at first heard, but it stilled at his
approach.  A voice sounded from within, and he held it most
prudent to listen before he advanced.

'Wha hast thou brought here, thou unsonsy villain, thou?'  said
an old woman, apparently in great indignation.  He heard Davie
Gellatley, in answer, whistle a part of the tune by which he had
recalled himself to the simpleton's memory, and had now no
hesitation to knock at the door.  There was a dead silence
instantly within, except the deep growling of the dogs; and he
next heard the mistress of the hut approach the door, not
probably for the sake of undoing a latch, but of fastening a
bolt.  To prevent this, Waverley lifted the latch himself.

In front was an old wretched-looking woman, exclaiming, 'Wha
comes into folk's houses in this gate, at this time o' the
night?'  On one side, two grim and half-starved deer greyhounds
laid aside their ferocity at his appearance, and seemed to
recognize him.  On the other side, half concealed by the open
door, yet apparently seeking that concealment reluctantly, with a
cocked pistol in his right hand, and his left in the act of
drawing another from his belt, stood a tall bony gaunt figure in
the remnants of a faded uniform, and a beard of three weeks'
growth.

It was the Baron of Bradwardine.  It is unnecessary to add, that
he threw aside his weapon, and greeted Waverley with a hearty
embrace.



CHAPTER LXIV

COMPARING OF NOTES

The Baron's story was short, when divested of the adages and
commonplaces, Latin, English, and Scotch, with which his
erudition garnished it.  He insisted much upon his grief at the
loss of Edward and of Glennaquoich, fought the fields of Falkirk
and Culloden, and related how, after all was lost in the last
battle, he had returned home, under the idea of more easily
finding shelter among his own tenants, and on his own estate,
than elsewhere.  A party of soldiers had been sent to lay waste
his property, for clemency was not the order of the day.  Their
proceedings, however, were checked by an order from the civil
court.  The estate, it was found, might not be forfeited to the
crown, to the prejudice of Malcolm Bradwardine of Inch-Grabbit,
the heir-male, whose claim could not be prejudiced by the Baron's
attainder, as deriving no right through him, and who, therefore,
like other heirs of entail in the same situation, entered upon
possession.  But, unlike many in similar circumstances, the new
laird speedily showed that he intended utterly to exclude his
predecessor from all benefit or advantage in the estate, and that
it was his purpose to avail himself of the old Baron's evil
fortune to the full extent.  This was the more ungenerous, as it
was generally known, that, from a romantic idea of not
prejudicing this young man's right as heir-male, the Baron had
refrained from settling his estate on his daughter.

This selfish injustice was resented by the country people, who
were partial to their old master, and irritated against his
successor.  In the Baron's own words, 'The matter did not
coincide with the feelings of the commons of Bradwardine, Mr.
Waverley; and the tenants were slack and repugnant in payment of
their mails and duties; and when my kinsman came to the village
wi' the new factor, Mr. James Howie, to lift the rents, some
wanchancy person--I suspect John Heatherblutter, the auld
gamekeeper, that was out wi' me in the year fifteen--fired a shot
at him in the gloaming, whereby he was so affrighted, that I may
say with Tullius in Catilinam, ABIIT, EVASIT, ERUPIT, EFFUGIT.
He fled, sir, as one may say, incontinent to Stirling.  And now
he hath advertised the estate for sale, being himself the last
substitute in the entail.  And if I were to lament about sic
matters, this would grieve me mair than its passing from my
immediate possession, whilk, by the course of nature, must have
happened in a few years.  Whereas now it passes from the lineage
that should have possessed it in SAECULA SAECULORUM.  But God's
will be done, HUMANA PERPESSI SUMUS.  Sir John of Bradwardine--
Black Sir John, as he is called--who was the common ancestor of
our house and the Inch-Grabbits, little thought such a person
would have sprung from his loins.  Meantime, he has accused me to
some of the primates, the rulers for the time, as if I were a
cut-throat, and an abettor of bravoes and assassinates, and
coupe-jarrets.  And they have sent soldiers here to abide on the
estate, and hunt me like a partridge upon the mountains, as
Scripture says of good King David, or like our valiant Sir
William Wallace,--not that I bring myself into comparison with
either.--I thought, when I heard you at the door, they had driven
the auld deer to his den at last; and so I e'en proposed to die
at bay, like a buck of the first head.--But now, Janet, canna ye
gie us something for supper?'

'Ou aye, sir, I'll brander the moor-fowl that John Heatherblutter
brought in this morning; and ye see puir Davie's roasting the
black hen's eggs.--I daur say, Mr. Wauverley, ye never kend that
a' the eggs that were sae weel roasted at supper in the Ha'-house
were aye turned by our Davie?--there's no the like o' him ony
gate for powtering wi' his fingers amang the het peat-ashes, and
roasting eggs.  Davie all this while lay with his nose almost in
the fire, nuzzling among the ashes, kicking his heels, mumbling
to himself, turning the eggs as they lay in the hot embers, as if
to confute the proverb, that 'there goes reason to roasting of
eggs,' and justify the eulogium which poor Janet poured out upon

  Him whom she loved, her idiot boy.

Davie's no sae silly as folk tak him for, Mr. Wauverley; he wadna
hae brought you here unless he had kend ye was a friend to his
Honour--indeed the very dogs kend ye, Mr. Wauverley, for ye was
aye kind to beast and body.--I can tell you a story o' Davie, wi'
his Honour's leave:  His Honour, ye see, being under hiding in
thae sair times--the mair's the pity--he lies a' day, and whiles
a' night, in the cove in the dern hag; but though it 's a bieldy
eneugh bit, and the auld gudeman o' Corse-Cleugh has panged it
wi' a kemple o' strae amaist, yet when the country's quiet, and
the night very cauld, his Honour whiles creeps doun here to get a
warm at the ingle, and a sleep amang the blankets, and gangs awa
in the morning.  And so, ae morning, siccan a fright as I got!
Twa unlucky red-coats were up for black-fishing, or some siccan
ploy--for the neb o' them's never out o' mischief--and they just
got a glisk o' his Honour as he gaed into the wood, and banged
aff a gun at him, I out like a jer-falcon, and cried,--"Wad they
shoot an honest woman's poor innocent bairn?" And I fleyt at
them, and threepit it was my son; and they damned and swuir at me
that it was the auld rebel, as the villains ca'd his Honour; and
Davie was in the wood, and heard the tuilzie, and he, just out o'
his ain head, got up the auld grey mantle that his Honour had
flung off him to gang the faster, and he cam out o' the very same
bit o' the wood, majoring and looking about sae like his Honour,
that they were clean beguiled, and thought they had letten aff
their gun at crack-brained Sawney, as they ca'd him; and they gae
me saxpence, and twa saumon fish, to say naething about it.--Na,
na; Davie's no just like other folk, puir fallow; but he's no sae
silly as folk tak him for.--But, to be sure, how can we do eneugh
for his Honour, when we and ours have lived on his ground this
twa hundred years; and when he keepit my puir Jamie at school and
college, and even at the Ha'-house, till he gaed to a better
place; and when he saved me frae being ta'en to Perth as a witch
--lord forgi'e them that would touch sic a puir silly auld body!
--and has maintained puir Davie at heck and manger maist feck o'
his life?'

Waverley at length found an opportunity to interrupt Janet's
narrative, by an inquiry after Miss Bradwardine.

'She's weel and safe, thank God!  at the Duchran,' answered the
Baron.  'The laird's distantly related to us, and more nearly to
my chaplain, Mr. Rubrick; and, though he be of Whig principles,
yet he's not forgetful of auld friendship at this time.  The
Bailie's doing what he can to save something out of the wreck for
puir Rose; but I doubt, I doubt, I shall never see her again, for
I maun lay my banes in some far country.'

'Hout na, your Honour,' said old Janet; 'ye were just as ill aff
in the feifteen, and got the bonnie baronie back, an' a'.--And
now the eggs is ready, and the muir-cock's brandered, and there's
ilk ane a trencher and some saut, and the heel o' the white loaf
that cam frae the Bailie's; and there's plenty o' brandy in the
greybeard that Luckie Maclearie sent doun; and winna ye be
suppered like princes?'

'I wish one Prince, at least, of our acquaintance, may be no
worse off,' said the Baron to Waverley, who joined him in cordial
hopes for the safety of the unfortunate Chevalier.

They then began to talk of their future prospects.  The Baron's
plan was very simple.  It was, to escape to France, where, by the
interest of his old friends, he hoped to get some military
employment, of which he still conceived himself capable.  He
invited Waverley to go with him, a proposal in which he
acquiesced, providing the interest of Colonel Talbot should fail
in procuring his pardon.  Tacitly he hoped the Baron would
sanction his addresses to Rose, and give him a right to assist
him in his exile; but he forbore to speak on this subject until
his own fate should be decided.  They then talked of
Glennaquoich, for whom the Baron expressed great anxiety,
although, he observed, he was 'the very Achilles of Horatius
Flaccus,--

  Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer.

Which,' he continued, 'has been thus rendered (vernacularly) by
Struan Robertson:

  A fiery etter-cap, a fractious chiel,
  As het as ginger, and as stieve as steel.'

Flora had a large and unqualified share of the good old man's
sympathy.

It was now wearing late.  Old Janet got into some kind of kennel
behind the hallan.  Davie had been long asleep and snoring
between Ban and Buscar.  These dogs had followed him to the hut
after the mansion-house was deserted, and there constantly
resided; and their ferocity, with the old woman's reputation of
being a witch, contributed a good deal to keep visitors from the
glen.  With this view, Bailie Macwheeble provided Janet underhand
with meal for their maintenance, and also with little articles of
luxury for their patron's use, in supplying which much precaution
was necessarily used.  After some compliments, the Baron occupied
his usual couch, and Waverley reclined in an easy-chair of
tattered velvet, which had once garnished the state bed-room of
Tully-Veolan (for the furniture of this mansion was now scattered
through all the cottages in the vicinity), and went to sleep as
comfortably as if he had been in a bed of down.



CHAPTER LXV

MORE EXPLANATION

With the first dawn of the day, old Janet was scuttling about the
house to wake the Baron, who usually slept sound and heavily.

'I must go back,' he said to Waverley, to my cove:  will you walk
down the glen wi' me?'

They went out together, and followed a narrow and entangled
footpath, which the occasional passage of anglers, or wood-
cutters, had traced by the side of the stream.  On their way, the
Baron explained to Waverley, that he would be under no danger in
remaining a day or two at Tully-Veolan, and even in being seen
walking about, if he used the precaution of pretending that he
was looking at the estate as agent or surveyor for an English
gentleman, who designed to be purchaser.  With this view, he
recommended to him to visit the Bailie, who still lived at the
factor's house, called Little Veolan, about a mile from the
village, though he was to remove at next term.  Stanley's
passport would be an answer to the officer who commanded the
military; and as to any of the country people who might recognize
Waverley the Baron assured him that he was in no danger of being
betrayed by them.

'I believe,' said the old man, 'half the people of the barony
know that their poor auld laird is somewhere hereabout; for I see
they do not suffer a single bairn to come here a bird-nesting--a
practice whilk, when I was in full possession of my power as
baron, I was unable totally to inhibit.  Nay, I often find bits
of things in my way, that the poor bodies, God help them!  leave
there, because they think they may be useful to me.  I hope they
will get a wiser master, and as kind a one as I was.'

A natural sigh closed the sentence; but the quiet equanimity with
which the Baron endured his misfortunes, had something in it
venerable, and even sublime.  There was no fruitless repining, no
turbid melancholy; he bore his lot, and the hardships which it
involved, with a good-humoured, though serious composure, and
used no violent language against the prevailing party.

'I did what I thought my duty,' said the good old man, 'and
questionless they are doing what they think theirs.  It grieves
me sometimes to look upon these blackened walls of the house of
my ancestors; but doubtless officers cannot always keep the
soldier's hand from depredation and spuilzie; and Gustavus
Adolphus himself, as ye may read in Colonel Munro his Expedition
with the worthy Scotch regiment called Mackay's regiment, did
often permit it.--Indeed I have myself seen as sad sights as
Tully-Veolan now is, when I served with the Mareschal Duke of
Berwick.  To be sure, we may say with Virgilius Maro, FUIMUS
TROES--and there's the end of an auld sang.  But houses and
families and men have a' stood lang eneugh when they have stood
till they fall with honour; and now I hae gotten a house that is
not unlike a DOMUS ULTIMA'--they were now standing below a steep
rock.  'We poor Jacobites,' continued the Baron, looking up, 'are
now like the conies in Holy Scripture (which the great traveller
Pococke calleth Jerboa), a feeble people, that make our abode in
the rocks.  So, fare you well, my good lad, till we meet at
Janet's in the even; for I must get into my Patmos, which is no
easy matter for my auld still limbs.'

With that he began to ascend the rock, striding, with the help of
his hands, from one precarious footstep to another, till he got
about half-way up, where two or three bushes concealed the mouth
of a hole, resembling an oven, into which the Baron insinuated,
first his head and shoulders, and then, by slow gradation, the
rest of his long body; his legs and feet finally disappearing,
coiled up like a huge snake entering his retreat, or a long
pedigree introduced with care and difficulty into the narrow
pigeon-hole of an old cabinet.  Waverley had the curiosity to
clamber up and look in upon him in his den, as the lurking-place
might well be termed.  Upon the whole, he looked not unlike that
ingenious puzzle, called a reel in a bottle, the marvel of
children (and of some grown people too, myself for one), who can
neither comprehend the mystery how it was got in, or how it is to
be taken out.  The cave was very narrow, too low in the roof to
admit of his standing, or almost of his sitting up, though he
made some awkward attempts at the latter posture.  His sole
amusement was the perusal of his old friend Titus Livius, varied
by occasionally scratching Latin proverbs and texts of Scripture
with his knife on the roof and walls of his fortalice, which were
of sandstone.  As the cave was dry, and filled with clean straw
and withered fern, 'it made,' as he said, coiling himself up with
an air of snugness and comfort which contrasted strangely with
his situation, 'unless when the wind was due north, a very
passable GITE for an old soldier.'  Neither, as he observed, was
he without sentries for the purpose of reconnoitring.  Davie and
his mother were constantly on the watch, to discover and avert
danger; and it was singular what instances of address seemed
dictated by the instinctive attachment of the poor simpleton,
when his patron's safety was concerned.

With Janet, Edward now sought an interview.  He had recognized
her at first sight as the old woman who had nursed him during his
sickness after his delivery from Gifted Gilfillan.  The hut,
also, though a little repaired, and somewhat better furnished,
was certainly the place of his confinement; and he now
recollected on the common moor of Tully-Veolan the trunk of a
large decayed tree, called the TRYSTING-TREE, which he had no
doubt was the same at which the Highlanders rendezvoused on that
memorable night.  All this he had combined in his imagination the
night before; but reasons, which may probably occur to the
reader, prevented him from catechizing Janet in the presence of
the Baron.

He now commenced the task in good earnest; and the first question
was, Who was the young lady that visited the hut during his
illness?  Janet paused for a little; and then observed, that to
keep the secret now, would neither do good nor ill to anybody.
'It was just a leddy that hasna her equal in the world--Miss Rose
Bradwardine.'

'Then Miss Rose was probably also the author of my deliverance,'
inferred Waverley, delighted at the confirmation of an idea which
local circumstances had already induced him to entertain.

'I wot weel, Mr. Wauverley, and that was she e'en; but sair, sair
angry and affronted wad she hae been, puir thing, if she had
thought ye had been ever to ken a word about the matter; for she
gar'd me speak aye Gaelic when ye was in hearing, to mak ye trow
we were in the Hielands.  I can speak it well eneugh, for my
mother was a Hieland woman.'

A few more questions now brought out the whole mystery respecting
Waverley's deliverance from the bondage in which he left
Cairnvreckan.  Never did music sound sweeter to an amateur, than
the drowsy tautology, with which old Janet detailed every
circumstance, thrilled upon the ears of Waverley.  But my reader
is not a lover, and I must spare his patience, by attempting to
condense within reasonable compass the narrative which old Janet
spread through a harangue of nearly two hours,

When Waverley communicated to Fergus the letter he had received
from Rose Bradwardine, by Davie Gellatley, giving an account of
Tully-Veolan being occupied by a small party of soldiers, that
circumstance had struck upon the busy and active mind of the
Chieftain.  Eager to distress and narrow the posts of the enemy,
desirous to prevent their establishing a garrison so near him,
and willing also to oblige the Baron,--for he often had the idea
of marriage with Rose floating through his brain,--he resolved to
send some of his people to drive out the red-coats, and to bring
Rose to Glennaquoich.  But just as he had ordered Evan with a
small party on this duty, the news of Cope's having marched into
the Highlands to meet and disperse the forces of the Chevalier,
ere they came to a head, obliged him to join the standard with
his whole forces.

He sent to order Donald Bean to attend him; but that cautious
freebooter, who well understood the value of a separate command,
instead of joining, sent various apologies which the pressure of
the times compelled Fergus to admit as current, though not
without the internal resolution of being revenged on him for his
procrastination, time and place convenient.  However, as he could
not amend the matter, he issued orders to Donald to descend into
the Low Country, drive the soldiers from Tully-Veolan, and,
paying all respect to the mansion of the Baron, to take his abode
somewhere near it, for protection of his daughter and family, and
to harass and drive away any of the armed volunteers, or small
parties of military, which he might find moving about the
vicinity.

As this charge formed a sort of roving commission, which Donald
proposed to interpret in the way most advantageous to himself, as
he was relieved from the immediate terrors of Fergus, and as he
had, from former secret services, some interest in the councils
of the Chevalier, he resolved to make hay while the sun shone.
He achieved, without difficulty, the task of driving the soldiers
from Tully-Veolan; but although he did not venture to encroach
upon the interior of the family, or to disturb Miss Rose, being
unwilling to make himself a powerful enemy in the Chevalier's
army,

  For well he knew the Baron's wrath was deadly;

yet he set about to raise contributions and exactions upon the
tenantry, and otherwise to turn the war to his own advantage.
Meanwhile he mounted the white cockade, and waited upon Rose with
a pretext of great devotion for the service in which her father
was engaged, and many apologies for the freedom he must
necessarily use for the support of his people.  It was at this
moment that Rose learned, by open-mouthed fame, with all sorts of
exaggeration, that Waverley had killed the smith of Cairnvreckan,
in an attempt to arrest him; had been cast into a dungeon by
Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, and was to be executed by martial
law within three days.  In the agony which these tidings excited,
she proposed to Donald Bean the rescue of the prisoner.  It was
the very sort of service which he was desirous to undertake,
judging it might constitute a merit of such a nature as would
make amends for any peccadilloes which he might be guilty of in
the country.  He had the art, however, pleading all the while
duty and discipline, to hold off, until poor Rose, in the
extremity of her distress, offered to bribe him to the enterprise
with some valuable jewels which had been her mother's.

Donald Bean, who had served in France, knew, and perhaps over-
estimated, the value of these trinkets.  But he also perceived
Rose's apprehensions of its being discovered that she had parted
with her jewels for Waverley's liberation.  Resolved this scruple
should not part him and the treasure, he voluntarily offered to
take an oath that he would never mention Miss Rose's share in the
transaction; and foreseeing convenience in keeping the oath, and
no probable advantage in breaking it, he took the engagement--in
order, as he told his lieutenant, to deal handsomely by the young
lady--in the only form and mode which, by a mental paction with
himself, he considered as binding--he swore secrecy upon his
drawn dirk.  He was the more especially moved to this act of good
faith by some attentions that Miss Bradwardine showed to his
daughter Alice, which, while they gained the heart of the
mountain damsel, highly gratified the pride of her father.
Alice, who could now speak a little English, was very
communicative in return for Rose's kindness, readily confided to
her the whole papers respecting the intrigue with Gardiner's
regiment, of which she was the depositary, and as readily
undertook, at her instance, to restore them to Waverley without
her father's knowledge.  'For they may oblige the bonnie young
lady and the handsome young gentleman,' said Alice, 'and what use
has my father for a whin bits o' scarted paper?'

The reader is aware that she took an opportunity of executing
this purpose on the eve of Waverley's leaving the glen.

How Donald executed his enterprise, the reader is aware.  But the
expulsion of the military from Tully-Veolan had given alarm, and,
while he was lying in wait for Gilfillan, a strong party, such as
Donald did not care to face, was sent to drive back the
insurgents in their turn, to encamp there, and to protect the
country.  The officer, a gentleman and a disciplinarian, neither
intruded himself on Miss Bradwardine, whose unprotected situation
he respected, nor permitted his soldiers to commit any breach of
discipline.  He formed a little camp, upon an eminence near the
house of Tully-Veolan, and placed proper guards at the passes in
the vicinity.  This unwelcome news reached Donald Bean Lean as he
was returning to Tully-Veolan.  Determined, however, to obtain
the guerdon of his labour, he resolved, since approach to Tully-
Veolan was impossible; to deposit his prisoner in Janet's
cottage--a place the very existence of which could hardly have
been suspected even by those who had long lived In the vicinity,
unless they had been guided thither, and which was utterly
unknown to Waverley himself.  This effected, he claimed and
received his reward.  Waverley's illness was an event which
deranged all their calculations.  Donald was obliged to leave the
neighbourhood with his people, and to seek more free course for
his adventures elsewhere.  At Rose's earnest entreaty, he left an
old man, a herbalist, who was supposed to understand a little of
medicine, to attend Waverley during his illness.

In the meanwhile, new and fearful doubts started in Rose's mind.
They were suggested by old Janet, who insisted, that a reward
having been offered for the apprehension of Waverley, and his own
personal effects being so valuable, there was no saying to what
breach of faith Donald might be tempted.  In an agony of grief
and terror, Rose took the daring resolution of explaining to the
Prince himself the danger in which Mr. Waverley stood, judging
that, both as a politician, and a man of honour and humanity,
Charles Edward would interest himself to prevent his falling into
the hands of the opposite party.  This letter she at first
thought of sending anonymously, but naturally feared it would
not, in that case, be credited.  She therefore subscribed her
name, though with reluctance and terror, and consigned it in
charge to a young man, who, at leaving his farm to join the
Chevalier's army, made it his petition to her to have some sort
of credentials to the Adventurer, from whom he hoped to obtain a
commission.

The letter reached Charles Edward on his descent to the Lowlands,
and, aware of the political importance of having it supposed that
he was in correspondence with the English Jacobites, he caused
the most positive orders to be transmitted to Donald Bean Lean,
to transmit Waverley, safe and uninjured in person or effects, to
the governor of Doune Castle.  The freebooter durst not disobey,
for the army of the Prince was now so near him that punishment
might have followed; besides, he was a politician as well as a
robber, and was unwilling to cancel the interest created through
former secret services, by being refractory on this occasion.  He
therefore made a virtue of necessity, and transmitted orders to
his lieutenant to convey Edward to Doune, which was safely
accomplished in the mode mentioned in a former chapter.  The
governor of Doune was directed to send him to Edinburgh as a
prisoner, because the Prince was apprehensive that Waverley, if
set at liberty, might have resumed his purpose of returning to
England, without affording him an opportunity of a personal
interview.  In this, indeed, he acted by the advice of the
Chieftain of Glennaquoich, with whom it may be remembered the
Chevalier communicated upon the mode of disposing of Edward,
though without telling him how he came to learn the place of his
confinement.

This, indeed, Charles Edward considered as a lady's secret; for
although Rose's letter was couched in the most cautious and
general terms, and professed to be written merely from motives of
humanity, and zeal for the Prince's service, yet she expressed so
anxious a wish that she should not be known to have interfered,
that the Chevalier was induced to suspect the deep interest which
she took in Waverley's safety.  This conjecture, which was well
founded, led, however, to false inferences.  For the emotion
which Edward displayed on approaching Flora and Rose at the ball
of Holyrood, was placed by the Chevalier to the account of the
latter, and he concluded that the Baron's views about the
settlement of his property, or some such obstacle, thwarted their
mutual inclinations.  Common fame, it is true, frequently gave
Waverley to Miss Mac-Ivor; but the Prince knew that common fame
is very prodigal in such gifts; and, watching attentively the
behaviour of the ladies towards Waverley, he had no doubt that
the young Englishman had no interest with Flora, and was beloved
by Rose Bradwardine.  Desirous to bind Waverley to his service,
and wishing also to do a kind and friendly action, the Prince
next assailed the Baron on the subject of settling his estate
upon his daughter.  Mr. Bradwardine acquiesced; but the
consequence was, that Fergus was immediately induced to prefer
his double suit for a wife and an earldom, which the Prince
rejected in the manner we have seen.  The Chevalier, constantly
engaged in his own multiplied affairs, had not hitherto sought
any explanation with Waverley, though often meaning to do so.
But after Fergus's declaration, he saw the necessity of appearing
neutral between the rivals, devoutly hoping that the matter,
which now seemed fraught with the seeds of strife, might be
permitted to lie over till the termination of the expedition.
When on the march to Derby, Fergus, being questioned concerning
his quarrel with Waverley, alleged as the cause, that Edward was
desirous of retracting the suit he made to his sister, the
Chevalier plainly told him, that he had himself observed Miss
Mac-Ivor's behaviour to Waverley, and that he was convinced
Fergus was under the influence of a mistake in judging of
Waverley's conduct, who, he had every reason to believe, was
engaged to Miss Bradwardine.  The quarrel which ensued between
Edward and the chieftain is, I hope, still in the remembrance of
the reader.  These circumstances will serve to explain such
points of our narrative as, according to the custom of story-
tellers, we deemed it fit to leave unexplained, for the purpose
of exciting the reader's curiosity.

When Janet had once finished the leading facts of this narrative,
Waverley was easily enabled to apply the clue which they
afforded, to other mazes of the labyrinth in which he had been
engaged.  To Rose Bradwardine, then, he owed the life which he
now thought he could willingly have laid down to serve her.  A
little reflection convinced him, however, that to live for her
sake was more convenient and agreeable, and that, being possessed
of independence, she might share it with him either in foreign
countries or in his own.  The pleasure of being allied to a man
of the Baron's high worth, and who was so much valued by his
uncle Sir Everard, was also an agreeable consideration, had
anything been wanting to recommend the match.  His absurdities,
which had appeared grotesquely ludicrous during his prosperity,
seemed, in the sunset of his fortune, to be harmonized and
assimilated with the noble features of his character, so as to
add peculiarity without exciting ridicule.  His mind occupied
with such projects of future happiness, Edward sought Little
Veolan, the habitation of Mr. Duncan Macwheeble.



CHAPTER LXVI

  Now is Cupid like a child of conscience--he makes
  restitution.--
                                       SHAKESPEARE.

Mr. Duncan Macwheeble, no longer Commissary or Bailie, though
still enjoying the empty name of the latter dignity, had escaped
proscription by an early secession from the insurgent party and
by his insignificance.

Edward found him in his office, immersed among papers and
accounts.  Before him was a large bicker of oatmeal-porridge, and
at the side thereof, a horn-spoon and a bottle of two-penny.
Eagerly running his eye over a voluminous law-paper, he from time
to time shovelled an immense spoonful of these nutritive viands
into his capacious mouth.  A pot-bellied Dutch bottle of brandy
which stood by, intimated either that this honest limb of the law
had taken his morning already, or that he meant to season his
porridge with such digestive; or perhaps both circumstances might
reasonably be inferred.  His night-cap and morning-gown had
whilome been of tartan, but, equally cautious and frugal, the
honest Bailie had got them dyed black, lest their original ill-
omened colour might remind his visitors of his unlucky excursion
to Derby.  To sum up the picture, his face was daubed with snuff
up to the eyes, and his fingers with ink up to the knuckles.  He
looked dubiously at Waverley as he approached the little green
rail which fenced his desk and stool from the approach of the
vulgar.  Nothing could give the Bailie more annoyance than the
idea of his acquaintance being claimed by any of the unfortunate
gentlemen who were now so much more likely to need assistance
than to afford profit.  But this was the rich young Englishman--
who knew what might be his situation?--he was the Baron's friend
too--what was to be done?

While these reflections gave an air of absurd perplexity to the
poor man's visage, Waverley, reflecting on the communication he
was about to make to him, of a nature so ridiculously contrasted
with the appearance of the individual, could not help bursting
out a-laughing, as he checked the propensity to exclaim with
Syphax--

  Cato's a proper person to entrust
  A love-tale with.

As Mr. Macwheeble had no idea of any person laughing heartily who
was either encircled by peril or oppressed by poverty, the
hilarity of Edward's countenance greatly relieved the
embarrassment of his own, and, giving him a tolerably hearty
welcome to Little Veolan, he asked what he would choose for
breakfast.  His visitor had, in the first place, something for
his private ear, and begged leave to bolt the door.  Duncan by no
means liked this precaution, which savoured of danger to be
apprehended; but he could not now draw back.

Convinced he might trust this man, as he could make it his
interest to be faithful, Edward communicated his present
situation and future schemes to Macwheeble.  The wily agent
listened with apprehension when he found Waverley was still in a
state of proscription--was somewhat comforted by learning that he
had a passport-- rubbed his hands with glee when he mentioned the
amount of his present fortune--opened huge eyes when he heard the
brilliancy of his future expectations; but when he expressed his
intention to share them with Miss Rose Bradwardine, ecstasy had
almost deprived the honest man of his senses.  The Bailie started
from his three-footed stool like the Pythoness from her tripod;
flung his best wig out of the window, because the block on which
it was placed stood in the way of his career; chucked his cap to
the ceiling, caught it as it fell; whistled Tullochgorum; danced
a Highland fling with inimitable grace and agility; and then
threw himself exhausted into a chair, exclaiming, 'Lady
Wauverley!--ten thousand a year, the least penny!-- Lord preserve
my poor understanding!'

'Amen, with all my heart,' said Waverley;--'but now, Mr.
Macwheeble, let us proceed to business.'  This word had a
somewhat sedative effect, but the Bailie's head, as he expressed
himself, was still 'in the bees.'  He mended his pen, however,
marked half a dozen sheets of paper with an ample marginal fold,
whipped down Dallas of St. Martin's STYLES from a shelf, where
that venerable work roosted with Stair's INSTITUTIONS, Dirleton's
DOUBTS, Balfour's PRACTIQUES, and a parcel of old account-books-
opened the volume at the article Contract of Marriage, and
prepared to make what he called a 'sma' minute, to prevent
parties frae resiling.

With some difficulty, Waverley made him comprehend that he was
going a little too fast.  He explained to him that he should want
his assistance, in the first place, to make his residence safe
for the time, by writing to the officer at Tully-Veolan, that Mr.
Stanley, an English gentleman, nearly related to Colonel Talbot,
was upon a visit of business at Mr. Macwheeble's, and, knowing
the state of the country, had sent his passport for Captain
Foster's inspection.  This produced a polite answer from the
officer, with an invitation to Mr. Stanley to dine with him,
which was declined (as may easily be supposed), under pretence of
business.

Waverley's next request was, that Mr. Macwheeble would dispatch a
man and horse to --, the post-town, at which Colonel Talbot was
to address him, with directions to wait there until the post
should bring a letter for Mr. Stanley, and then to forward it to
Little Veolan with all speed.  In a moment, the Bailie was in
search of his apprentice (or servitor, as he was called Sixty
Years since), Jock Scriever, and in not much greater space of
time, Jock was on the back of the white pony.

'Tak care ye guide him weel, sir, for he's aye been short in the
wind since--ahem--lord be gude to me!'  (in a low voice)  'I was
gaun to come out wi'--since I rode whip and spur to fetch the
Chevalier to redd Mr. Wauverley and Vich Ian Vohr; and an uncanny
coup I gat for my pains.-- Lord forgie your honour!  I might hae
broken my neck-- but troth it was in a venture, mae ways nor ane;
but this maks amends for a'.  Lady Wauverley!--ten thousand a
year!--Lord be gude unto me!'

'But you forget, Mr. Macwheeble, we want the Baron's consent--the
lady's--'

'Never fear, I'se be caution for them--I'se gie you my personal
warrandice--ten thousand a year!  it dings Balmawhapple out and
out--a year's rent's worth a' Balmawhapple, fee and life-rent!
Lord make us thankful!'

To turn the current of his feelings, Edward inquired if he had
heard anything lately of the Chieftain of Glennaquoich?

'Not one word,' answered Macwheeble, 'but that he was still in
Carlisle Castle, and was soon to be panelled for his life.  I
dinna wish the young gentleman ill,' he said, 'but I hope that
they that hae got him will keep him, and no let him back to this
Hieland border to plague us wi' blackmail, and a' manner o'
violent, wrongous, and masterfu' oppression and spoliation, both
by himself and others of his causing, sending, and hounding out:
--and he couldna tak care o' the siller when he had gotten it
neither, but flung it a' into yon idle quean's lap at Edinburgh
--but light come light gane.  For my part, I never wish to see a
kilt in the country again, nor a red-coat, nor a gun, for that
matter, unless it were to shoot a paitrick:--they're a' tarr'd
wi' ae stick.  And when they have done ye wrang, even when ya hae
gotten decreet of spuilzie, oppression, and violent profits
against them, what better are ye?-- they hae na a plack to pay
ye; ye need never extract it.'

With such discourse, and the intervening topics of business, the
time passed until dinner, Macwheeble meanwhile promising to
devise some mode of introducing Edward at the Duchran, where Rose
at present resided, without risk of danger or suspicion; which
seemed no very easy task, since the laird was a very zealous
friend to Government.--The poultry-yard had been laid under
requisition, and cockyleeky and Scotch collops soon reeked in the
Bailie's little parlour.  The landlord's corkscrew was just
introduced into the muzzle of a pint-bottle of claret (cribbed
possibly from the cellars of Tully-Veolan), when the sight of the
grey pony, passing the window at full trot, induced the Bailie,
but with due precaution, to place it aside for the moment.  Enter
Jock Scriever with a packet for Mr. Stanley:  it is Colonel
Talbot's seal; and Edward's fingers tremble as he undoes it.  Two
official papers, folded, signed, and sealed in all formality,
drop out.  They were hastily picked up by the Bailie, who had a
natural respect for everything resembling a deed, and, glancing
slily on their titles, his eyes, or rather spectacles, are
greeted with 'Protection by His Royal Highness to the person of
Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esq. of that ilk, commonly called Baron
of Bradwardine, forfeited for his accession to the late
rebellion.'  The other proves to be a protection of the same
tenor in favour of Edward Waverley, Esq. Colonel Talbot's letter
was in these words:--

'MY DEAR EDWARD,

'I am just arrived here, and yet I have finished my business; it
has cost me some trouble though, as you shall hear.  I waited
upon his Royal Highness immediately on my arrival, and found him
in no very good humour for my purpose.  Three or four Scotch
gentlemen were just leaving his levee.  After he had expressed
himself to me very courteously; "Would you think it," he said,
"Talbot?  here have been half a dozen of the most respectable
gentlemen, and best friends to Government north of the Forth,--
Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, Rubrick of Duchran, and others,
--who have fairly wrung from me, by their downright importunity,
a present protection, and the promise of a future pardon, for
that stubborn old rebel whom they call Baron of Bradwardine.
They allege that his high personal character, and the clemency
which he showed to such of our people as fell into the rebels'
hands, should weigh in his favour; especially as the loss of his
estate is likely to be a severe enough punishment.  Rubrick has
undertaken to keep him at his own house till things are settled
in the country; but it's a little hard to be forced in a manner
to pardon such a mortal enemy to the House of Brunswick."  This
was no favourable moment for opening my business:--however, I
said I was rejoiced to learn that his Royal Highness was in the
course of granting such requests, as it emboldened me to present
one of the like nature in my own name.  He was very angry, but I
persisted;--I mentioned the uniform support of our three votes in
the House, touched modestly on services abroad, though valuable
only in his Royal Highness's having been pleased kindly to accept
them, and founded pretty strongly on his own expressions of
friendship and goodwill.  He was embarrassed, but obstinate.  I
hinted the policy of detaching, on all future occasions, the heir
of such a fortune as your uncle's from the machinations of the
disaffected.  But I made no impression.  I mentioned the
obligation which I lay under to Sir Everard, and to you
personally, and claimed, as the sole reward of my services, that
he would be pleased to afford me the means of evincing my
gratitude.  I perceived that he still meditated a refusal, and,
taking my commission from my pocket, I said (as a last resource),
that as his Royal Highness did not, under these pressing
circumstances, think me worthy of a favour which he had not
scrupled to grant to other gentlemen, whose services I could
hardly judge more important than my own, I must beg leave to
deposit, with all humility, my commission in his Royal Highness's
hands, and to retire from the service.  He was not prepared for
this;--he told me to take up my commission; said some handsome
things of my services, and granted my request.  You are therefore
once more a free man, and I have promised for you that you will
be a good boy in future, and remember what you owe to the lenity
of Government.  Thus you see MY PRINCE can be as generous as
YOURS.  I do not pretend, indeed, that he confers a favour with
all the foreign graces and compliments of your Chevalier errant;
but he has a plain English manner, and the evident reluctance
with which he grants your request, indicates the sacrifice which
he makes of his own inclination to your wishes.  My friend, the
adjutant-general, has procured me a duplicate of the Baron's
protection (the original being in Major Melville's possession),
which I send to you, as I know that if you can find him you will
have pleasure in being the first to communicate the joyful
intelligence.  He will of course repair to the Duchran without
loss of time, there to ride quarantine for a few weeks.  As for
you, I give you leave to escort him thither, and to stay a week
there, as I understand a certain fair lady is in that quarter.
And I have the pleasure to tell you, that whatever progress you
can make in her good graces will be highly agreeable to Sir
Everard and Mrs. Rachel, who will never believe your view and
prospects settled, and the three ermines passant in actual
safety, until you present them with a Mrs. Edward Waverley.  Now,
certain love-affairs of my own--a good many years since--
interrupted some measures which were then proposed in favour of
the three ermines passant; so I am bound in honour to make them
amends.  Therefore make good use of your time, for when your week
is expired, it will be necessary that you go to London to plead
your pardon in the law courts.

'Ever, dear Waverley, yours most truly,

'PHILIP TALBOT.'



CHAPTER LXVII

Happy 's the wooing
That's not long a-doing.

When the first rapturous sensation occasioned by these excellent
tidings had somewhat subsided, Edward proposed instantly to go
down to the glen to acquaint the Baron with their import.  But
the cautious Bailie justly observed, that if the Baron were to
appear instantly in public, the tenantry and villagers might
become riotous in expressing their joy, and give offence to 'the
powers that be,' a sort of persons for whom the Bailie always had
unlimited respect.  He therefore proposed that Mr. Waverley
should go to Janet Gellatley's, and bring the Baron up under
cloud of night to Little Veolan, where he might once more enjoy
the luxury of a good bed.  In the meanwhile, he said, he himself
would go to Captain Foster, and show him the Baron's protection,
and obtain his countenance for harbouring him that night,--and he
would have horses ready on the morrow to set him on his way to
the Duchran along with Mr. Stanley, 'whilk denomination, I
apprehend, your honour will for the present retain,' said the
Bailie.

'Certainly, Mr. Macwheeble; but will you not go down to the glen
yourself in the evening to meet your patron?'

'That I wad wi' a' my heart; and mickle obliged to your honour
for putting me in mind o' my bounden duty.  But it will be past
sunset afore I get back frae the Captain's, and at these unsonsy
hours the glen has a bad name--there's something no that canny
about auld Janet Gellatley.  The Laird he'll no believe thae
things, but he was aye ower rash and venturesome--and feared
neither man nor deevil--and sae's seen o't.  But right sure am I
Sir George Mackenyie says, that no divine can doubt there are
witches, since the Bible says thou shalt not suffer them to live;
and that no lawyer in Scotland can doubt it, since it is
punishable with death by our law.  So there's baith law and
gospel for it.  An his honour winna believe the Leviticus, he
might aye believe the Statute-book; but he may tak his ain way
o't--it's a' ane to Duncan Macwheeble.  However, I shall send to
ask up auld Janet this e'en; it 's best no to lightly them that
have that character--and we'll want Davie to turn the spit, for
I'll gar Eppie put down a fat goose to the fire for your honours
to your supper.'

When it was near sunset, Waverley hastened to the hut; and he
could not but allow that superstition had chosen no improper
locality, or unfit object, for the foundation of her fantastic
terrors.  It resembled exactly the description of Spenser:

  There, in a gloomy hollow glen, she found.
    A little cottage built of sticks and reeds,
  In homely wise, and wall'd with sods around,
    In which a witch did dwell in loathly weeds,
  And wilful want, all careless of her needs;
    So choosing solitary to abide
  Far from all neighbours, that her devilish deeds,
    And hellish arts, from people she might hide,
  And hurt far off, unknown, whomsoever she espied.

He entered the cottage with these verses in his memory.  Poor old
Janet, bent double with age, and bleared with peat-smoke, was
tottering about the hut with a birch broom, muttering to herself
as she endeavoured to make her hearth and floor a little clean
for the reception of her expected guests.  Waverley's step made
her start, look up, and fall a-trembling, so much had her nerves
been on the rack for her patron's safety.  With difficulty
Waverley made her comprehend that the Baron was now safe from
personal danger; and when her mind had admitted that joyful news,
it was equally hard to make her believe that he was not to enter
again upon possession of his estate.  'It behoved to be,' she
said, 'he wad get it back again; naebody wad be sae gripple as to
tak his gear after they had gi'en him a pardon:  and for that
Inch-Grabbit, I could whiles wish mysell a witch for his sake, if
I werena feared the Enemy wad tak me at my word.'  Waverley then
gave her some money, and promised that her fidelity should be
rewarded.  'How can I be rewarded, sir, sae weel, as just to see
my auld maister and Miss Rose come back and bruik their ain?'

Waverley now took leave of Janet, and soon stood beneath the
Baron's Patmos.  At a low whistle, he observed the veteran
peeping out to reconnoitre, like an old badger with his head out
of his hole.  'Ye hae come rather early, my good lad,' said he,
descending; 'I question if the red-coats hae beat the tattoo yet,
and we're not safe till then.'

'Good news cannot be told too soon,' said Waverley; and with
infinite joy communicated to him the happy tidings.

The old man stood for a moment in silent devotion, then
exclaimed, 'Praise be to God!--I shall see my bairn again.'

'And never, I hope, to part with her more,' said Waverley.

'I trust in God, not, unless it be to win the means of supporting
her; for my things are but in a bruckle state;--but what
signifies warld's gear?'

'And if,' said Waverley, modestly, 'there were a situation in
life which would put Miss Bradwardine beyond the uncertainty of
fortune, and in the rank to which she was born, would you object
to it, my dear Baron, because it would make one of your friends
the happiest man in the world?'  The Baron turned, and looked at
him with great earnestness.  'Yes,' continued Edward, 'I shall
not consider my sentence of banishment as repealed, unless you
will give me permission to accompany you to the Duchran, and--'

The Baron seemed collecting all his dignity to make a suitable
reply to what, at another time, he would have treated as the
propounding a treaty of alliance between the houses of
Bradwardine and Waverley.  But his efforts were in vain; the
father was too mighty for the Baron; the pride of birth and rank
were swept away:  in the joyful surprise, a slight convulsion
passed rapidly over his features as he gave way to the feelings
of nature, threw his arms around Waverley's neck, and sobbed
out,--'My son!  my son!--if I had been to search the world, I
would have made my choice here.'  Edward returned the embrace
with great sympathy of feeling, and for a little while they both
kept silence.  At length it was broken by Edward.  But Miss
Bradwardine?'

'She had never a will but her old father's; besides, you are a
likely youth, of honest principles and high birth; no, she never
had any other will than mine, and in my proudest days I could not
have wished a mair eligible espousal for her than the nephew of
my excellent old friend, Sir Everard.--But I hope, young man, ye
deal na rashly in this matter?  I hope ye hae secured the
approbation of your ain friends and allies, particularly of your
uncle, who is in LOCO PARENTIS?  Ah!  we maun tak heed o' that.'
Edward assured him that Sir Everard would think himself highly
honoured in the flattering reception his proposal had met with,
and that it had his entire approbation; in evidence of which, he
put Colonel Talbot's letter into the Baron's hand.  The Baron
read it with great attention.  'Sir Everard,' he said, 'always
despised wealth in comparison of honour and birth; and indeed he
had no occasion to court the DIVA PECUNIA.  Yet I now wish, since
this Malcolm turns out such a parricide, for I can call him no
better, as to think of alienating the family inheritance-I now
wish' (his eyes fixed on a part of the roof which was visible
above the trees) 'that I could have left Rose the auld hurley-
house, and the riggs belanging to it.--And yet,' said he,
resuming more cheerfully, 'it's maybe as weel as it is; for, as
Baron of Bradwardine, I might have thought it my duty to insist
upon certain compliances respecting name and bearings, whilk now,
as a landless laird wi' a tocherless daughter, no one can blame
me for departing from.'

'Now, Heaven be praised!'  thought Edward, 'that Sir Everard does
not hear these scruples!--the three ermines passsat and rampant
bear would certainly have gone together by the ears.'  He then,
with all the ardour of a young lover, assured the Baron, that he
sought for his happiness only in Rose's heart and hand, and
thought himself as happy in her father's simple approbation, as
if he had settled an earldom upon his daughter.

They now reached Little Veolan.  The goose was smoking on the
table, and the Bailie brandished his knife and fork.  A joyous
greeting took place between him and his patron.  The kitchen,
too, had its company.  Auld Janet was established at the ingle-
nook; Davie had turned the spit to his immortal honour; and even
Ban and Buscar, in the liberality of Macwheeble's joy, had been
stuffed to the throat with food, and now lay snoring on the
floor.

The next day conducted the Baron and his young friend to the
Duchran, where the former was expected, in consequence of the
success of the nearly unanimous application of the Scottish
friends of Government in his favour.  This had been so general
and so powerful, that it was almost thought his estate might have
been saved, had it not passed into the rapacious hands-of his
unworthy kinsman, whose right, arising out of the Baron's
attainder, could not be affected by a pardon from the crown.  The
old gentleman, however, said, with his usual spirit, he was more
gratified by the hold he possessed in the good opinion of his
neighbours, than he would have been in being 'rehabilitated and
restored IN INTEGRUM, had it been found practicable.'

We shall not attempt to describe the meeting of the father and
daughter,--loving each other so affectionately, and separated
under such perilous circumstances.  Still less shall we attempt
to analyse the deep blush of Rose, at receiving the compliments
of Waverley, or stop to inquire whether she had any curiosity
respecting the particular cause of his journey to Scotland at
that period.  We shall not; even trouble the reader with the
humdrum details of a courtship Sixty Years since.  It is enough
to say, that, under so strict a martinet as the Baron, all things
were conducted in due form.  He took upon himself, the morning
after their arrival, the task of announcing the proposal of
Waverley to Rose, which she heard with a proper degree of maiden
timidity.  Fame does, however, say, that Waverley had, the
evening before, found five minutes to apprize her of what was
coming, while the rest of the company were looking at three
twisted serpents which formed a JET D'EAU in the garden.

My fair readers will judge for themselves; but, for my part, I
cannot conceive how so important an affair could be communicated
in so short a space of time;--at least, it certainly took a full
hour in the Baron's mode of conveying it.

Waverley was now considered as a received lover in all the forms.
He was made, by dint of smirking and nodding on the part of the
lady of the house, to sit next to Miss Bradwardine at dinner, to
be Miss Bradwardine's partner at cards.  If he came into the
room, she of the four Miss Rubricks who chanced to be next Rose,
was sure to recollect that her thimble, or her scissors, were at
the other end of the room, in order to leave the seat nearest to
Miss Bradwardine vacant for his occupation, And sometimes, if
papa and mamma were not in the way to keep them on their good
behaviour, the misses would titter a little.  The old laird of
Duchran would also have his occasional jest, and the old lady her
remark.  Even the Baron could not refrain; but here Rose escaped
every embarrassment but that of conjecture, for his wit was
usually couched in a Latin quotation.  The very footmen sometimes
grinned too broadly, the maid-servants giggled mayhap too loud,
and a provoking air of intelligence seemed to pervade the whole
family.  Alice Bean, the pretty maid of the cavern, who, after
her father's MISFORTUNE, as she called it, had attended Rose as
fille-de-chambre, smiled and smirked with the best of them.  Rose
and Edward, however, endured all these little vexatious
circumstances as other folks have done before and since, and
probably contrived to obtain some indemnification, since they are
not supposed, on the whole, to have been particularly unhappy
during Waverley's six days' stay at the Duchran.

It was finally arranged that Edward should go to Waverley-Honour
to make the necessary arrangements for his marriage, thence to
London to take the proper measures for pleading his pardon, and
return as soon as possible to claim the hand of his plighted
bride.  He also intended in his journey to visit Colonel Talbot;
but, above all, it was his most important object to learn the
fate of the unfortunate Chief of Glennaquoich; to visit him at
Carlisle, and to try whether anything could be done for
procuring, if not a pardon, a commutation at least, or
alleviation, of the punishment to which he was almost certain of
being condemned;--and in case of the worst, to offer the
miserable Flora an asylum with Rose, or otherwise to assist her
views in any mode which might seem possible.  The fate of Fergus
seemed hard to be averted.  Edward had already striven to
interest his friend Colonel Talbot in his behalf; but had been
given distinctly to understand, by his reply, that his credit in
matters of that nature was totally exhausted.

The Colonel was still in Edinburgh, and proposed to wait there
for some months upon business confided to him by the Duke of
Cumberland.  He was to be joined by Lady Emily, to whom easy
travelling and goat's whey were recommended, and who was to
journey northward, under the escort of Francis Stanley.  Edward,
therefore, met the Colonel at Edinburgh, who wished him joy in
the kindest manner on his approaching happiness, and cheerfully
undertook many commissions which our hero was necessarily obliged
to delegate to his charge.  But on the subject of Fergus he was
inexorable.  He satisfied Edward, indeed, that his interference
would be unavailing; but besides, Colonel Talbot owned that he
could not conscientiously use any influence in favour of that
unfortunate gentleman.  'Justice,' he said, 'which demanded some
penalty of those who had wrapped the whole nation in fear and in
mourning, could not perhaps have selected a fitter victim, He
came to the field with the fullest light upon the nature of his
attempt.  He had studied and understood the subject.  His
father's fate could not intimidate him; the lenity of the laws
which had restored to him his father's property and rights could
not melt him.  That he was brave, generous, and possessed many
good qualities, only rendered him the more dangerous; that he was
enlightened and accomplished, made his crime the less excusable;
that he was an enthusiast in a wrong cause, only made him the
more fit to be its martyr.  Above all, he had been the means of
bringing many hundreds of men into the field, who, without him,
would never have broken the peace of the country.

'I repeat it,' said the Colonel, 'though Heaven knows with a
heart distressed for him as an individual, that this young
gentleman has studied and fully understood the desperate game
which he has played.  He threw for life or death, a coronet or a
coffin; and he cannot now be permitted, with justice to the
country, to draw stakes because the dice have gone against him.'

Such was the reasoning of those times, held even by brave and
humane men towards a vanquished enemy.  Let us devoutly hope,
that, in this respect at least, we shall never see the scenes, or
hold the sentiments, that were general in Britain Sixty Years
since.



CHAPTER LXVIII:

To-morrow?  Oh that's sudden!  Spare him!  spare him!
                                             SHAKESPEARE.

Edward, attended by his former servant Alick Polwarth, who had
re-entered his service at Edinburgh, reached Carlisle while the
commission of Oyer and Terminer on his unfortunate associates was
yet sitting.  He had pushed forward in haste,--not, alas!  with
the most distant hope of saving Fergus, but to see him for the
last time.  I ought to have mentioned, that he had furnished
funds for the defence of the prisoners in the most liberal
manner, as soon as he heard that the day of trial was fixed.  A
solicitor, and the first counsel, accordingly attended; but it
was upon the same footing on which the first physicians are
usually summoned to the bedside of some dying man of rank;--the
doctors to take the advantage of some incalculable chance of an
exertion of nature--the lawyers to avail themselves of the barely
possible occurrence of some legal flaw.  Edward pressed into the
court, which was extremely crowded; but by his arriving from the
north, and his extreme eagerness and agitation, it was supposed
he was a relation of the prisoners, and people made way for him.
It was the third sitting of the court, and there were two men at
the bar.  The verdict of GUILTY was already pronounced.  Edward
just glanced at the bar during the momentous pause which ensued.
There was no mistaking the stately form and noble features of
Fergus Mac-Ivor, although his dress was squalid, and his
countenance tinged with the sickly yellow hue of long and close
imprisonment.  By his side was Evan Maccombich.  Edward felt sick
and dizzy as he gazed on them; but he was recalled to himself as
the Clerk of the Arraigns pronounced the solemn words:  'Fergus
Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich, otherwise called Vich Ian Vohr, and
Evan Mac-Ivor, in the Dhu of Tarrascleugh, otherwise called Evan
Dhu, otherwise called Evan Maccombich, or Evan Dhu Maccombich
--you, and each of you, stand attainted of high treason.  What
have you to say for yourselves why the Court should not pronounce
judgement against you, that you die according to law?'

Fergus, as the presiding Judge was putting on the fatal cap of
judgement, placed his own bonnet upon his head, regarded him with
a steadfast and stern look, and replied in a firm voice, 'I
cannot let this numerous audience suppose that to such an appeal
I have no answer to make.  But what I have to say, you would not
bear to hear, for my defence would be your condemnation.
Proceed, then, in the name of God, to do what is permitted to
you.  Yesterday, and the day before, you have condemned loyal and
honourable blood to be poured forth like water.  Spare not mine.
Were that of all my ancestors in my veins, I would have peril'd
it in this quarrel.'  He resumed his seat, and refused again to
rise.

Evan Maccombich looked at him with great earnestness, and, rising
up, seemed anxious to speak; but the confusion of the court, and
the perplexity arising from thinking in a language different from
that in which he was to express himself, kept him silent.  There
was a murmur of compassion among the spectators, from an idea
that the poor fellow intended to plead the influence of his
superior as an excuse for his crime.  The Judge commanded
silence, and encouraged Evan to proceed.

'I was only ganging to say, my lord,' said Evan, in what he meant
to be in an insinuating manner, 'that if your excellent honour,
and the honourable Court, would let Vich Ian Vohr go free just
this once, and let him gae back to France, and no to trouble King
George's government again, that ony six o' the very best of his
clan will be willing to be justified in his stead; and if you'll
just let me gae down to Glennaquoich, I'll fetch them up to ye
mysel, to head or hang, and you may begin wi' me the very first
man.'

Notwithstanding the solemnity of the occasion, a sort of laugh
was heard in the court at the extraordinary nature of the
proposal.  The Judge checked this indecency, and Evan, looking
sternly around, when the murmur abated, 'If the Saxon gentlemen
are laughing,' he said, 'because a poor man, such as me, thinks
my life, or the life of six of my degree, is worth that of Vich
Ian Vohr, it's like enough they may be very right; but if they
laugh because they think I would not keep my word, and come back
to redeem him, I can tell them they ken neither the heart of a
Hielandman, nor the honour of a gentleman.'

There was no further inclination to laugh among the audience, and
a dead silence ensued.

The Judge then pronounced upon both prisoners the sentence of the
law of high treason, with all its horrible accompaniments.  The
execution was appointed for the ensuing day.  'For you, Fergus
Mac-Ivor,' continued the Judge, 'I can hold out no hope of mercy.
You must prepare against to-morrow for your last sufferings here,
and your great audit hereafter.'

'I desire nothing else, my lord,' answered Fergus, in the same
manly and firm tone.

The hard eyes of Evan, which had been perpetually bent on his
Chief, were moistened with a tear.  'For you, poor ignorant man,'
continued the Judge, 'who, following the ideas in which you have
been educated, have this day given us a striking example how the
loyalty due to the king and state alone, is, from your unhappy
ideas of clanship, transferred to some ambitious individual, who
ends by making you the tool of his crimes--for you, I say, I feel
so much compassion, that if you can make up your mind to petition
for grace, I will endeavour to procure if for you.  Otherwise--'

'Grace me no grace,' said Evan; 'since you are to shed Vich Ian
Vohr's blood, the only favour I would accept from you, is--to bid
them loose my hands and gie me my claymore, and bide you just a
minute sitting where you are!'

'Remove the prisoners,' said the Judge; 'his blood be upon his
own head.'

Almost stupefied with his feelings, Edward found that the rush of
the crowd had conveyed him out into the street, ere he knew what
he was doing.--His immediate wish was to see and speak with
Fergus once more.  He applied at the Castle where his unfortunate
friend was confined, but was refused admittance.  'The High
Sheriff,' a non-commissioned officer said, 'had requested of the
governor that none should be admitted to see the prisoner
excepting his confessor and his sister.'

'And where was Miss Mac-Ivor?'  They gave him the direction, It
was the house of a respectable Catholic family near Carlisle.

Repulsed from the gate of the Castle, and not venturing to make
application to the High Sheriff or Judges in his own unpopular
name, he had recourse to the solicitor who came down in Fergus's
behalf.  This gentleman told him, that it was thought the public
mind was in danger of being debauched by the account of the last
moments of these persons, as given by the friends of the
Pretender; that there had been a resolution, therefore, to
exclude all such persons as had not the plea of near kindred for
attending upon them.  Yet he promised (to oblige the heir of
Waverley-Honour) to get him an order for admittance to the
prisoner the next morning, before his irons were knocked off for
execution.

'Is it of Fergus Mac-Ivor they speak thus,' thought Waverley  'or
do I dream?  of Fergus, the bold, the chivalrous, the free-
minded,--the lofty chieftain of a tribe devoted to him?  Is it
he, that I have seen lead the chase and head the attack,--the
brave, the active, the young, the noble, the love of ladies, and
the theme of song,--is it he who is ironed like a malefactor--who
is to be dragged on a hurdle to the common gallows--to die a
lingering and cruel death, and to be mangled by the hand of the
most outcast of wretches?  Evil indeed was the spectre that boded
such a fate as this to the brave Chief of Glennaquoich!'

With a faltering voice he requested the solicitor to find means
to warn Fergus of his intended visit, should he obtain permission
to make it.  He then turned away from him, and, returning to the
inn, wrote a scarcely intelligible note to Flora Mac-Ivor,
intimating his purpose to wait upon her that evening.  The
messenger brought back a letter in Flora's beautiful Italian
hand, which seemed scarce to tremble even under this load of
misery.  'Miss Flora Mac-Ivor,' the letter bore, 'could not
refuse to see the dearest friend of her dear brother, even in her
present circumstances of unparalleled distress.'

When Edward reached Miss Mac-Ivor's present place of abode, he
was instantly admitted.  In a large and gloomy tapestried
apartment, Flora was seated by a latticed window, sewing what
seemed to be a garment of white flannel.  At a little distance
sat an elderly woman, apparently a foreigner, and of a religious
order.  She was reading in a book of Catholic devotion; but when
Waverley entered, laid it on the table and left the room.  Flora
rose to receive him, and stretched out her hand, but neither
ventured to attempt speech.  Her fine complexion was totally
gone; her person considerably emaciated; and her face and hands
as white as the purest statuary marble, forming a strong contrast
with her sable dress and jet-black hair.  Yet, amid these marks
of distress, there was nothing negligent or ill-arranged about
her attire; even her hair, though totally without ornament, was
disposed with her usual attention to neatness.  The first words
she uttered were, 'Have you seen him?'

'Alas, no,' answered Waverley; 'I have been refused admittance.'

'It accords with the rest,' she said; 'but we must submit.  Shall
you obtain leave, do you suppose?'

'For--for--to-morrow,' said Waverley; but muttering the last word
so faintly that it was almost unintelligible.

'Aye, then or never,' said Flora, 'until'--she added, looking
upward, 'the time when, I trust, we shall all meet.  But I hope
you will see him while earth yet bears him.  He always loved you
at his heart, though--but it is vain to talk of the past.'

'Vain indeed!'  echoed Waverley.

'Or even of the future, my good friend,' said Flora, 'so far as
earthly events are concerned; for how often have I pictured to
myself the strong possibility of this horrid issue, and tasked
myself to consider how I could support my part; and yet how far
has all my anticipation fallen short of the unimaginable
bitterness of this hour!'

'Dear Flora, if your strength of mind'--

'Aye, there it is,' she answered, somewhat wildly; 'there is, Mr.
Waverley, there is a busy devil at my heart, that whispers--but
it were madness to listen to it--that the strength of mind on
which Flora prided herself has murdered her brother!'

'Good God!  how can you give utterance to a thought so shocking?'

'Aye, is it not so?--but yet it haunts me like a phantom:  I know
it is unsubstantial and vain; but it will be present--will
intrude its horrors on my mind--will whisper that my brother, as
volatile as ardent, would have divided his energies amid a
hundred objects.  It was I who taught him to concentrate them,
and to gage all on this dreadful and desperate cast.  Oh that I
could recollect that I had but once said to him, "He that
striketh with the sword shall die by the sword"; that I had but
once said, Remain at home; reserve yourself, your vassals, your
life, for enterprises within the reach of man.  But oh, Mr.
Waverley, I spurred his fiery temper, and half of his ruin at
least lies with his sister.'

The horrid idea which she had intimated, Edward endeavoured to
combat by every incoherent argument that occurred to him.  He
recalled to her the principles on which both thought it their
duty to act, and in which they had been educated.

'Do not think I have forgotten them,' she said, looking up, with
eager quickness; 'I do not regret his attempt, because it was
wrong--oh no!  on that point I am armed--but because it was
impossible it could end otherwise than thus.'

'Yet it did not always seem so desperate and hazardous as it was;
and it would have been chosen by the bold spirit of Fergus,
whether you had approved it or no; your counsels only served to
give unity and consistence to his conduct; to dignify, but not to
precipitate his resolution.'  Flora had soon ceased to listen to
Edward, and was again intent upon her needlework.

'Do you remember,' she said, looking up with a ghastly smile,
'you once found me making Fergus's bride-favours, and now I am
sewing his bridal-garment.  Our friends here,' she continued,
with suppressed emotion, 'are to give hallowed earth in their
chapel to the bloody relies of the last Vich Ian Vohr.  But they
will not all rest together; no--his head!---I shall not have the
last miserable consolation of kissing the cold lips of my dear,
dear Fergus!'

The unfortunate Flora here, after one or two hysterical sobs,
fainted in her chair.  The lady, who had been attending in the
ante-room, now entered hastily, and begged Edward to leave the
room, but not the house.

When he was recalled, after the space of nearly half an hour, he
found that, by a strong effort, Miss Mac-Ivor had greatly
composed herself.  It was then he ventured to urge Miss
Bradwardine's claim to be considered as an adopted sister, and
empowered to assist her plans for the future.

'I have had a letter from my dear Rose,' she replied, 'to the
same purpose.  Sorrow is selfish and engrossing, or I would have
written to express that, even in my own despair, I felt a gleam
of pleasure at learning her happy prospects, and at hearing that
the good old Baron has escaped the general wreck.  Give this to
my dearest Rose; it is her poor Flora's only ornament of value,
and was the gift of a princess.'  She put into his hands a case
containing the chain of diamonds with which she used to decorate
her hair.  'To me it is in future useless.  The kindness of my
friends has secured me a retreat in the convent of the Scottish
Benedictine nuns in Paris.  To-morrow--if indeed I can survive
to-morrow--I set forward on my journey with this venerable
sister.  And now, Mr. Waverley, adieu!  May you be as happy with
Rose as your amiable dispositions deserve!--and think sometimes
on the friends you have lost.  Do not attempt to see me again; it
would be mistaken kindness.'

She gave him her hand, on which Edward shed a torrent of tears,
and, with a faltering step, withdrew from the apartment, and
returned to the town of Carlisle.  At the inn he found a letter
from his law friend, intimating that he would be admitted to
Fergus next morning as soon as the Castle gates were opened, and
permitted to remain with him till the arrival of the Sheriff gave
signal for the fatal procession.



CHAPTER LXIX

  --A darker departure is near,
  The death-drum is muffled, and sable the bier.
                                            CAMPBELL.

After a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning found Waverley
on the esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of Carlisle
Castle.  But he paced it long in every direction, before the hour
when, according to the rules of the garrison, the gates were
opened and the drawbridge lowered.  He produced his order to the
sergeant of the guard, and was admitted.

The place of Fergus's confinement was a gloomy and vaulted
apartment in the central part of the Castle--a huge old tower,
supposed to be of great antiquity, and surrounded by outworks,
seemingly of Henry VIII's time, or somewhat later.  The grating
of the large old-fashioned bars and bolts, withdrawn for the
purpose of admitting Edward, was answered by the clash of chains,
as the unfortunate Chieftain, strongly and heavily fettered,
shuffled along the stone floor of his prison, to fling himself
into his friend's arms.

'My dear Edward,' he said, in a firm, and even cheerful voice,
'this is truly kind.  I heard of your approaching happiness with
the highest pleasure.  And how does Rose?  and how is our old
whimsical friend the Baron?  Well, I trust, since I see you at
freedom--And how will you settle precedence between the three
ermines passant and the bear and bootjack?'

'How, oh how, my dear Fergus, can you talk of such things at such
a moment!'

'Why, we have entered Carlisle with happier auspices, to be sure
--on the 16th of November last, for example, when we marched in,
side by side, and hoisted the white flag on these ancient towers.
But I am no boy, to sit down and weep because the luck has gone
against me.  I knew the stake which I risked; we played the game
boldly, and the forfeit shall be paid manfully.  And now, since
my time is short, let me come to the questions that interest me
most--The Prince?  has he escaped the bloodhounds?'

'He has, and is in safety.'

'Praised be God for that!  Tell me the particulars of his
escape.'

Waverley communicated that remarkable history, so far as it had
then transpired, to which Fergus listened with deep interest.  He
then asked after several other friends; and made many minute
inquiries concerning the fate of his own clansmen.  They had
suffered less than other tribes who had been engaged in the
affair; for, having in a great measure dispersed and returned
home after the captivity of their Chieftain, according to the
universal custom of the Highlanders, they were not in arms when
the insurrection was finally suppressed, and consequently were
treated with less rigour.  This Fergus heard with great
satisfaction.

'You are rich,' he said, 'Waverley, and you are generous.  When
you hear of these poor Mac-Ivors being distressed about their
miserable possessions by some harsh overseer or agent of
Government, remember you have worn their tartan, and are an
adopted son of their race.  The Baron, who knows our manners, and
lives near our country, will apprize you of the time and means to
be their protector.  Will you promise this to the last Vich Ian
Vohr?'

Edward, as may well be believed, pledged his word; which he
afterwards so amply redeemed, that his memory still lives in
these glens by the name of the Friend of the Sons of Ivor.

'Would to God,' continued the Chieftain, 'I could bequeath to you
my rights to the love and obedience of this primitive and brave
race:--or at least, as I have striven to do, persuade poor Evan
to accept of his life upon their terms, and be to you what he has
been to me, the kindest,--the bravest,--the most devoted--'

The tears which his own fate could not draw forth, fell fast for
that of his foster-brother.

'But,' said he, drying them, 'that cannot be.  You cannot be to
them Vich Ian Vohr; and these three magic words,' said he, half
smiling, 'are the only Open Sesame to their feelings and
sympathies, and poor Evan must attend his foster-brother in
death, as he has done through his whole life.'

'And I am sure,' said Maccombich, raising himself from the floor,
on which, for fear of interrupting their conversation, he had
lain so still, that, in the obscurity of the apartment, Edward
was not aware of his presence,--'I am sure Evan never desired or
deserved a better end than just to die with his Chieftain.'

'And now,' said Fergus, 'while we are upon the subject of
clanship--what think you now of the prediction of the Bodach
Glas?'--Then, before Edward could answer, 'I saw him again last
night--he stood in the slip of moonshine, which fell from that
high and narrow window towards my bed.  Why should I fear him, I
thought--to-morrow, long ere this time, I shall be as immaterial
as he.  "False Spirit!" I said, "art thou come to close thy walks
on earth, and to enjoy thy triumph in the fall of the last
descendant of thine enemy?" The spectre seemed to beckon and to
smile as he faded from my sight.  What do you think of it?--I
asked the same question of the priest, who is a good and sensible
man; he admitted that the Church allowed that such apparitions
were possible, but urged me not to permit my mind to dwell upon
it, as imagination plays us such strange tricks.  What do you
think of it?'

'Much as your confessor,' said Waverley, willing to avoid dispute
upon such a point at such a moment.  A tap at the door now
announced that good man, and Edward retired while he administered
to both prisoners the last rites of religion, in the mode which
the Church of Rome prescribes.

In about an hour he was re-admitted; soon after, a file of
soldiers entered with a blacksmith, who struck the fetters from
the legs of the prisoners.

'You see the compliment they pay to our Highland strength and
courage--we have lain chained here like wild beasts, till our
legs are cramped into palsy, and when they free us, they send six
soldiers with loaded muskets to prevent our taking the castle by
storm!'

Edward afterwards learned that these severe precautions had been
taken in consequence of a desperate attempt of the prisoners to
escape, in which they had very nearly succeeded.

Shortly afterwards the drums of the garrison beat to arms.  'This
is the last turn-out,' said Fergus, 'that I shall hear and obey.
And now, my dear, dear Edward, ere we part let us speak of Flora
--a subject which awakes the tenderest feeling that yet thrills
within me.'

'We part not here!'  said Waverley.

'Oh yes, we do; you must come no farther.  Not that I fear what
is to follow for myself,' he said proudly:  'Nature has her
tortures as well as art; and how happy should we think the man
who escapes from the throes of a mortal and painful disorder, in
the space of a short half hour?  And this matter, spin it out as
they will, cannot last longer, But what a dying man can suffer
firmly, may kill a living friend to look upon.--This same law of
high treason,' he continued, with astonishing firmness and
composure, 'is one of the blessings, Edward, with which your free
country has accommodated poor old Scotland:  her own
jurisprudence, as I have heard, was much milder.  But I suppose
one day or other--when there are no longer any wild Highlanders
to benefit by its tender mercies--they will blot it from their
records, as levelling them with a nation of cannibals.  The
mummery, too, of exposing the senseless head--they have not the
wit to grace mine with a paper coronet; there would be some
satire in that, Edward.  I hope they will set it on the Scotch
gate though, that I may look, even after death, to the blue hills
of my own country, which I love so dearly.  The Baron would have
added,

  MORITUR, ET MORIENS DULCES REMINISCITUR ARGOS.'

A bustle, and the sound of wheels and horses' feet, was now heard
in the courtyard of the Castle.  'As I have told you why you must
not follow me, and these sounds admonish me that my time flies
fast, tell me how you found poor Flora?'

Waverley, with a voice interrupted by suffocating sensations,
gave some account of the state of her mind.

'Poor Flora!'  answered the Chief, 'she could have borne her own
sentence of death, but not mine.  You, Waverley, will soon know
the happiness of mutual affection in the married state--long,
long may Rose and you enjoy it!--but you can never know the
purity of feeling which combines two orphans, like Flora and me,
left alone as it were in the world, and being all in all to each
other from our very infancy.  But her strong sense of duty, and
predominant feeling of loyalty, will give new nerve to her mind
after the immediate and acute sensation of this parting has
passed away.  She will then think of Fergus as of the heroes of
our race, upon whose deeds she loved to dwell.'

'Shall she not see you, then?'  asked Waverley.  'She seemed to
expect it.'

'A necessary deceit will spare her the last dreadful parting.  I
could not part with her without tears, and I cannot bear that
these men should think they have power to extort them.  She was
made to believe she would see me at a later hour, and this
letter, which my confessor will deliver, will apprize her that
all is over,'

An officer now appeared, and intimated that the High Sheriff and
his attendants waited before the gate of the Castle, to claim the
bodies of Fergus Mac-Ivor and Evan Maccombich.  'I come,' said
Fergus.  Accordingly, supporting Edward by the arm, and followed
by Evan Dhu and the priest, he moved down the stairs of the
tower, the soldiers bringing up the rear.  The court was occupied
by a squadron of dragoons and a battalion of infantry, drawn up
in hollow square.  Within their ranks was the sledge, or hurdle,
on which the prisoners were to be drawn to the place of
execution, about a mile distant from Carlisle.  It was painted
black, and drawn by a white horse.  At one end of the vehicle sat
the Executioner, a horrid-looking fellow, as beseemed his trade,
with the broad axe in his hand; at the other end, next the horse,
was an empty seat for two persons.  Through the deep and dark
Gothic archway that opened on the drawbridge, were seen on
horseback the High Sheriff and his attendants, whom the etiquette
betwixt the civil and military powers did not permit to come
farther.  'This is well GOT UP for a closing scene,' said Fergus,
smiling disdainfully as he gazed around upon the apparatus of
terror.  Evan Dhu exclaimed with some eagerness, after looking at
the dragoons, 'These are the very chields that galloped off at
Gladsmuir, before we could kill a dozen o' them.  They look bold
enough now, however.'  The priest entreated him to be silent.

The sledge now approached, and Fergus, turning round, embraced
Waverley, kissed him on each side of the face, and stepped nimbly
into his place.  Evan sat down by his side.  The priest was to
follow in a carriage belonging to his patron, the Catholic
gentleman at whose house Flora resided.  As Fergus waved his hand
to Edward, the ranks closed around the sledge, and the whole
procession began to move forward.  There was a momentary stop at
the gateway, while the governor of the Castle and the High
Sheriff went through a short ceremony, the military officer there
delivering over the persons of the criminals to the civil power.
'God save King George!'  said the High Sheriff.  When the
formality concluded, Fergus stood erect in the sledge, and with a
firm and steady voice, replied, 'God save King James!'  These
were the last words which Waverley heard him speak.

The procession resumed its march, and the sledge vanished from
beneath the portal, under which it had stopped for an instant.
The dead-march was then heard, and its melancholy sounds were
mingled with those of a muffled peal, tolled from the
neighbouring cathedral.  The sound of the military music died
away as the procession moved on--the sullen clang of the bells
was soon heard to sound alone.

The last of the soldiers had now disappeared from under the
vaulted archway through which they had been filing for several
minutes; the courtyard was now totally empty, but Waverley still
stood there as if stupefied, his eyes fixed upon the dark pass
where he had so lately seen the last glimpse of his friend.  At
length, a female servant of the governor's, struck with
compassion at the stupefied misery which his countenance
expressed, asked him if he would not walk into her master's house
and sit down?  She was obliged to repeat her question twice ere
he comprehended her, but at length it recalled him to himself.
Declining the courtesy by a hasty gesture, he pulled his hat over
his eyes, and, leaving the Castle, walked as swiftly as he could
through the empty streets, till he regained his inn, then rushed
into an apartment, and bolted the door.

In about an hour and a half, which seemed an age of unutterable
suspense, the sound of the drums and fifes, performing a lively
air, and the confused murmur of the crowd which now filled the
streets, so lately deserted, apprized him that all was finished,
and that the military and populace were returning from the
dreadful scene.  I will not attempt to describe his sensations.

In the evening the priest made him a visit, and informed him that
he did so by directions of his deceased friend, to assure him
that Fergus Mac-Ivor had died as he lived, and remembered his
friendship to the last.  He added, he had also seen Flora, whose
state of mind seemed more composed since all was over.  With her
and Sister Theresa, the priest proposed next day to leave
Carlisle, for the nearest seaport from which they could embark
for France.  Waverley forced on this good man a ring of some
value, and a sum of money to be employed (as he thought might
gratify Flora) in the services of the Catholic Church, for the
memory of his friend.  'FUNGARQUE INANI MUNERE,' he repeated, as
the ecclesiastic retired.  'Yet why not class these acts of
remembrance with other honours, with which affection, in all
sects, pursues the memory of the dead?'

The next morning, ere daylight, he took leave of the town of
Carlisle, promising to himself never again to enter its walls.
He dared hardly look back towards the Gothic battlements of the
fortified gate under which he passed (for the place is surrounded
with an old wall).  'They're no there,' said Alick Polwarth, who
guessed the cause of the dubious look which Waverley cast
backward, and who, with the vulgar appetite for the horrible, was
master of each detail of the butchery--'the heads are ower the
Scotch yate, as they ca' it.  It's a great pity of Evan Dhu, who
was a very weel-meaning, good-natured man, to be a Hielandman;
and indeed so was the Laird o' Glennaquoich too, for that matter,
when he wasna in ane o' his tirrivies.



CHAPTER LXX

DOLCE DOMUM

The impression of horror with which Waverley left Carlisle
softened by degrees into melancholy--a gradation which was
accelerated by the painful, yet soothing, task of writing to
Rose; and, while he could not suppress his own feelings of the
calamity, he endeavoured to place it in a light which might
grieve her without shocking her imagination.  The picture which
he drew for her benefit he gradually familiarized to his own
mind; and his next letters were more cheerful, and referred to
the prospects of peace and happiness which lay before them.  Yet,
though his first horrible sensations had sunk into melancholy,
Edward had reached his native county before he could, as usual on
former occasions, look round for enjoyment upon the face of
nature.

He then, for the first time since leaving Edinburgh, began to
experience that pleasure which almost all feel who return to a
verdant, populous, and highly cultivated country, from scenes of
waste desolation, or of solitary and melancholy grandeur.  But
how were those feelings enhanced when he entered on the domain so
long possessed by his forefathers; recognized the old oaks of
Waverley-Chase; thought with what delight he should introduce
Rose to all his favourite haunts; beheld at length the towers of
the venerable hall arise above the woods which embowered it, and
finally threw himself into the arms of the venerable relations to
whom he owed so much duty and affection!

The happiness of their meeting was not tarnished by a single word
of reproach.  On the contrary, whatever pain Sir Everard and Mrs.
Rachel had felt during Waverley's perilous engagement with the
young Chevalier, it assorted too well with the principles in
which they had been brought up, to incur reprobation, or even
censure.  Colonel Talbot also had smoothed the way, with great
address, for Edward's favourable reception, by dwelling upon his
gallant behaviour in the military character, particularly his
bravery and generosity at Preston; until, warmed at the idea of
their nephew's engaging in single combat, making prisoner, and
saving from slaughter, so distinguished an officer as the Colonel
himself, the imagination of the Baronet and his sister ranked the
exploits of Edward with those of Wilibert, Hildebrand, and Nigel,
the vaunted heroes of their line.

The appearance of Waverley, embrowned by exercise, and dignified
by the habits of military discipline, had acquired an athletic
and hardy character, which not only verified the Colonel's
narration, but surprised and delighted all the inhabitants of
Waverley-Honour.  They crowded to see, to hear him, and to sing
his praises.  Mr. Pembroke, who secretly extolled his spirit and
courage in embracing the genuine cause of the Church of England,
censured his pupil gently, nevertheless, for being so careless of
his manuscripts, which indeed, he said, had occasioned him some
personal inconvenience, as, upon the Baronet's being arrested by
a king's messenger, he had deemed it prudent to retire to a
concealment called 'The Priest's Hole,' from the use it had been
put to in former days; where, he assured our hero, the butler had
thought it safe to venture with food only once in the day, so
that he had been repeatedly compelled to dine upon victuals
either absolutely cold, or, what was worse, only half warm, not
to mention that sometimes his bed had not been arranged for two
days together.  Waverley's mind involuntarily turned to the
Patmos of the Baron of Bradwardine, who was well pleased with
Janet's fare, and a few bunches of straw stowed in a cleft in the
front of a sand-cliff:  but he made no remarks upon a contrast
which could only mortify his worthy tutor.

All was now in a bustle to prepare for the nuptials of Edward, an
event to which the good old Baronet and Mrs. Rachel looked
forward as if to the renewal of their own youth.  The match, as
Colonel Talbot had intimated, had seemed to them in the highest
degree eligible, having every recommendation but wealth, of which
they themselves had more than enough.  Mr. Clippurse was
therefore summoned to Waverley-Honour, under better auspices than
at the commencement of our story.  But Mr. Clippurse came not
alone; for, being now stricken in years, he had associated with
him a nephew, a younger vulture (as our English Juvenal, who
tells the tale of Swallow the attorney, might have called him),
and they now carried on business as Messrs. Clippurse and Hookem.
These worthy gentlemen had directions to make the necessary
settlements on the most splendid scale of liberality, as if
Edward were to wed a peeress in her own right, with her paternal
estate tacked to the fringe of her ermine.

But before entering upon a subject of proverbial delay, I must
remind my reader of the progress of a stone rolled down hill by
an idle truant boy (a pastime at which I was myself expert in my
more juvenile years):  it moves at first slowly, avoiding by
inflection every obstacle of the least importance; but when it
has attained its full impulse, and draws near the conclusion of
its career, it smokes and thunders down, taking a rood at every
spring, clearing hedge and ditch like a Yorkshire huntsman, and
becoming most furiously rapid in its course when it is nearest to
being consigned to rest for ever.  Even such is the course of a
narrative like that which you are perusing.  The earlier events
are studiously dwelt upon, that you, kind reader, may be
introduced to the character rather by narrative, than by the
duller medium of direct description; but when the story draws
near its close, we hurry over the circumstances, however
important, which your imagination must have forestalled, and
leave you to suppose those things which it would be abusing your
patience to relate at length.

We are, therefore, so far from attempting to trace the dull
progress of Messrs. Clippurse and Hookem, or that of their worthy
official brethren, who had the charge of suing out the pardons of
Edward Waverley and his intended father-in-law, that we can but
touch upon matters more attractive.  The mutual epistles, for
example, which were exchanged between Sir Everard and the Baron
upon this occasion, though matchless specimens of eloquence in
their way, must be consigned to merciless oblivion. Nor can I
tell you at length, how worthy Aunt Rachel, not without a
delicate and affectionate allusion to the circumstances which had
transferred Rose's maternal diamonds to the hands of Donald Bean
Lean, stocked her casket with a set of jewels that a duchess
might have envied.  Moreover, the reader will have the goodness
to imagine that Job Houghton and his dame were suitably provided
for, although they could never be persuaded that their son fell
otherwise than fighting by the young squire's side; so that
Alick, who, as a lover of truth, had made many needless attempts
to expound the real circumstances to them, was finally ordered to
say not a word more upon the subject.  He indemnified himself,
however, by the liberal allowance of desperate battles, grisly
executions, and rawhead and bloody-bone stories, with which he
astonished the servants' hall.

But although these important matters may be briefly told in
narrative, like a newspaper report of a Chancery suit, yet, with
all the urgency which Waverley could use, the real time which the
law proceedings occupied, joined to the delay occasioned by the
mode of travelling at that period, rendered it considerably more
than two months ere Waverley, having left England, alighted once
more at the mansion of the Laird of Duchran to claim the hand of
his plighted bride.

The day of his marriage was fixed for the sixth after his
arrival.  The Baron of Bradwardine, with whom bridals,
christenings, and funerals, were festivals of high and solemn
import, felt a little hurt, that, including the family of the
Duchran, and all the immediate vicinity who had title to be
present on such an occasion, there could not be above thirty
persons collected.  'When he was married,' he observed, 'three
hundred horse of gentlemen born, besides servants, and some score
or two of Highland lairds, who never got on horseback, were
present on the occasion.'

But his pride found some consolation in reflecting, that he and
his son-in-law having been so lately in arms against Government,
it, might give matter of reasonable fear and offence to the
ruling powers, if they were to collect together the kith, kin,
and allies of their houses, arrayed in effeir of war, as was the
ancient custom of Scotland on these occasions--'And, without
dubitation,' he concluded with a sigh, 'many of those who would
have rejoiced most freely upon these joyful espousals, are either
gone to a better place, or are now exiles from their native
land.'

The marriage took place on the appointed day.  The Reverend Mr.
Rubrick, kinsman to the proprietor of the hospitable mansion
where it was solemnized, and chaplain to the Baron of
Bradwardine, had the satisfaction to unite their hands; and Frank
Stanley acted as bridesman, having joined Edward with that view
soon after his arrival.  Lady Emily and Colonel Talbot had
proposed being present; but Lady Emily's health, when the day
approached, was found inadequate to the journey.  In amends, it
was arranged that Edward Waverley and his lady, who, with the
Baron, proposed an immediate journey to Waverley-Honour, should,
in their way, spend a few days at an estate which Colonel Talbot
had been tempted to purchase in Scotland as a very great bargain,
and at which he proposed to reside for some time.



CHAPTER LXXI

  This is no mine ain house, I ken by the bigging o't'.
                                           --OLD SONG.

The nuptial party travelled in great style.  There was a coach
and six after the newest pattern, which Sir Everard had presented
to his nephew, that dazzled with its splendour the eyes of one
half of Scotland; there was the family coach of Mr. Rubrick;--
both these were crowded with ladies, and there were gentlemen on
horseback, with their servants, to the number of a round score.
Nevertheless, without having the fear of famine before his eyes,
Bailie Macwheeble met them in the road, to entreat that they
would pass by his house at Little Veolan.  The Baron stared, and
said his son and he would certainly ride by Little Veolan, and
pay their compliments to the Bailie, but could not think of
bringing with them the 'haill COMITATUS NUPTIALIS, or matrimonial
procession.'  He added, 'that, as he understood that the barony
had been sold by its unworthy possessor, he was glad to see his
old friend Duncan had regained his situation under the new
DOMINUS, or proprietor. ' The Bailie ducked, bowed, and fidgeted,
and then again insisted upon his invitation; until the Baron,
though rather piqued at the pertinacity of his instances, could
not nevertheless refuse to consent, without making evident
sensations which he was anxious to conceal.

He fell into a deep study as they approached the top of the
avenue, and was only startled from it by observing that the
battlements were replaced, the ruins cleared sway, and (most
wonderful of all) that the two great stone Bears, those mutilated
Dagons of his idolatry, had resumed their posts over the gateway.
'Now this new proprietor,' said he to Edward, 'has shown mair
gusto, as the Italians call it, in the short time he has had this
domain, than that hound Malcolm, though I bred him here mysell,
has acquired VITA ADHUC DURANTE.--and now I talk of hounds, is
not yon Ban and Buscar, who come scouping up the avenue with
Davie Gallatley?'

'I vote we should go to meet them, sir,' said Waverley, 'for I
believe the present master of the house is Colonel Talbot, who
will expect to see us.  We hesitated to mention to you at first
that he had purchased your ancient patrimonial property, and even
yet, if you do not incline to visit him, we can pass on to the
Bailie's.'

The Baron had occasion for all his magnanimity.  However, he drew
a long breath, took a long snuff, and observed, since they had
brought him so far, he could not pass the Colonel's gate, and he
would be happy to see the new master of his old tenants.  He
alighted accordingly, as did the other gentlemen and ladies;--he
gave his arm to his daughter, and as they descended the avenue,
pointed out to her how speedily the 'DIVA PECUNIA of the
Southron--their tutelary deity, he might call her--had removed
the marks of spoliation.'

In truth, not only had the felled trees been removed, but, their
stumps being grubbed up, and the earth round them levelled and
sown with grass, every mark of devastation, unless to an eye
intimately acquainted with the spot, was already totally
obliterated.  There was a similar reformation in the outward man
of Davie Gellatley, who met them, every now and then stopping to
admire the new suit which graced his person, In the same colours
as formerly, but bedizened fine enough to have served Touchstone
himself.  He danced up with his usual ungainly frolics, first to
the Baron, and then to Rose, passing his hands over his clothes,
crying, 'BRA', BRA' DAVIE,' and scarce able to sing a bar to an
end of his thousand-and-one songs, for the breathless
extravagance of his joy.  The dogs also acknowledged their old
master with a thousand gambols.  'Upon my conscience, Rose,'
ejaculated the Baron, 'the gratitude o' thae dumb brutes, and of
that puir innocent, brings the tears into my auld een, while that
schellum Malcolm--but I'm obliged to Colonel Talbot for putting
my hounds into such good condition, and likewise for puir Davie.
But, Rose, my dear, we must not permit them to be a liferent
burden upon the estate.'

As he spoke, Lady Emily, leaning upon the arm of her husband, met
the party at the lower gate, with a thousand welcomes.  After the
ceremony of introduction had been gone through, much abridged by
the ease and excellent breeding of Lady Emily, she apologized for
having used a little art to wile them back to a place which might
awaken some painful reflections--'But as it was to change
masters, we were very desirous that the Baron'--

'Mr. Bradwardine, madam, if you please,' said the old gentleman.

'--Mr. Bradwardine, then, and Mr. Waverley, should see what we
have done towards restoring the mansion of your fathers to its
former state.'

The Baron answered with a low bow.  Indeed, when he entered the
court, excepting that the heavy stables, which had been burnt
down, were replaced by buildings of a lighter and more
picturesque appearance, all seemed as much as possible restored
to the state in which he had left it when he assumed arms some
months before.  The pigeon-house was replenished; the fountain
played with its usual activity; and not only the Bear who
predominated over its basin, but all the other Bears whatsoever,
were replaced on their several stations, and renewed or repaired
with so much care, that they bore no tokens of the violence which
had so lately descended upon them.  While these minutiae had been
so heedfully attended to, it is scarce necessary to add, that the
house itself had been thoroughly repaired, as well as the
gardens, with the strictest attention to maintain the original
character of both, and to remove, as far as possible, all
appearance of the ravage they had sustained.  The Baron gazed in
silent wonder; at length he addressed Colonel Talbot:

'While I acknowledge my obligation to you, sir, for the
restoration of the badge of our family, I cannot but marvel that
you have nowhere established your own crest, whilk is, I believe,
a mastiff, anciently called a talbot; as the poet has it,

  A talbot strong--a sturdy tyke.

At least such a dog is the crest of the martial and renowned
Earls of Shrewsbury, to whom your family are probably blood
relations.'

'I believe,' said the Colonel, smiling, 'our dogs are whelps of
the same litter:  for my part, if crests were to dispute
precedence, I should be apt to let them, as the proverb says,
"fight dog, fight bear."'

As he made this speech, at which the Baron took another long
pinch of snuff, they had entered the house--that is, the Baron,
Rose, and Lady Emily, with young Stanley and the Bailie, for
Edward and the rest of the party remained on the terrace, to
examine a new greenhouse stocked with the finest plants.  The
Baron resumed his favourite topic:  'However it may please you to
derogate from the honour of your burgonet, Colonel Talbot, which
is doubtless your humour, as I have seen in other gentlemen of
birth and honour in your country, I must again repeat it as a
most ancient and distinguished bearing, as well as that of my
young friend Francis Stanley, which is the eagle and child.'

'The bird and bantling they call it in Derbyshire, sir,' said
Stanley.

'Ye're a daft callant, sir,' said the Baron, who had a great
liking to this young man, perhaps because he sometimes teased
him--'Ye're a daft callant, and I must correct you some of these
days,' shaking his great brown fist at him.  'But what I meant to
say, Colonel Talbot, is, that yours is an ancient PROSAPIA, or
descent, and since you have lawfully and justly acquired the
estate for you and yours, which I have lost for me and mine, I
wish it may remain in your name as many centuries as it has done
in that of the late proprietor's.'

'That,' answered the Colonel, 'is very handsome, Mr. Bradwardine,
indeed.'

'And yet, sir, I cannot but marvel that you, Colonel, whom I
noted to have so much of the AMOR PATRIAE, when we met in
Edinburgh, as even to vilipend other countries, should have
chosen to establish your Lares, or household gods, PROCUL A
PATRIEA FINIBUS, and in a manner to expatriate yourself.'

'Why really, Baron, I do not see why, to keep the secret of these
foolish boys, Waverley and Stanley, and of my wife, who is no
wiser, one old soldier should continue to impose upon another.
You must know, then, that I have so much of that same prejudice
in favour of my native country, that the sum of money which I
advanced to the seller of this extensive barony has only
purchased for me a box in --shire, called Brerewood Lodge, with
about two hundred and fifty acres of land, the chief merit of
which is, that it is within a very few miles of Waverley-Honour.'

'And who, then, in the name of Haven, has bought this property?'

'That,' said the Colonel,' it is this gentleman's profession to
explain.'

The Bailie, whom this reference regarded, and who had all this
while shifted from one foot to another with great impatience,
'like a hen,' as he afterwards said, 'upon a het girdle'; and
chuckling, he might have added, like the said hen in all the
glory of laying an egg--now pushed forward:  'That I can, that I
can, your Honour,' drawing from his pocket a budget of papers,
and untying the red tape with a hand trembling with eagerness.
'Here is the disposition and assignation, by Malcolm Bradwardine
of Inch-Grabbit, regularly signed and tested in terms of the
statute, whereby, for a certain sum of sterling money presently
contented and paid to him, he has disponed, alienated, and
conveyed the whole estate and barony of Bradwardine, Tully-
Veolan, and others, with the fortalice and manor-place--'

'For God's sake, to the point, sir--I have all that by heart,'
said the Colonel.

'To Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esq.'  pursued the Bailie, 'his
heirs and assignees, simply and irredeemably--to be held either A
ME VEL DE ME--'

'Pray read short, sir.'

'On the conscience of an honest man, Colonel, I read as short as
is consistent with style.--Under the burden and reservation
always--

'Mr. Macwheeble, this would outlast a Russian winter--give me
leave.  In short, Mr. Bradwardine, your family estate is your own
once more in full property, and at your absolute disposal, but
only burdened with the sum advanced to repurchase it, which I
understand is utterly disproportioned to its value.

'An auld sang--an auld sang, if it please your Honours,' cried
the Bailie, rubbing his hands; 'look at the rental book.'

'Which sum being advanced by Mr. Edward Waverley, chiefly from
the price of his father's property which I bought from him, is
secured to his lady your daughter, and her family by this
marriage.'

'It is a catholic security,' shouted the Bailie, 'to Rose Comyne
Bradwardine, ALIAS Wauverley, in liferent, and the children of
the said marriage in fee; and I made up a wee bit minute of an
ante-nuptial contract, INTUITU MATRIMONII, so it cannot be
subject to reduction hereafter, as a donation INTER VIRUM ET
UXOREM.'

It is difficult to say whether the worthy Baron was most
delighted with the restitution of his family property, or with
the delicacy and generosity that left him unfettered to pursue
his purpose in disposing of it after his death, and which
avoided, as much as possible, even the appearance of laying him
under pecuniary obligation.  When his first pause of joy and
astonishment was over, his thoughts turned to the unworthy heir-
male, who, he pronounced, 'had sold his birthright, like Esau,
for a mess o' pottage.'

'But wha cookit the parritch for him?'  exclaimed the Bailie; 'I
wad like to ken that--wha but your Honour's to command, Duncan
Macwheeble?  His Honour, young Mr. Wauverley, put it a' into my
hand frae the beginning--frae the first calling o' the summons,
as I may say.  I circumvented them--I played at bogle about the
bush wi' them--I cajoled them; and if I havena gien Inch-Grabbit
and Jamie Howie a bonnie begunk, they ken themselves.  Him a
writer!  I didna gea slapdash to them wi' our young bra'
bridegroom, to gar them haud up the market; na, na; I scared them
wi' our wild tenantry, and the Mac-Ivors, that are but ill
settled yet, till they durstna on ony errand whatsoever gang ower
the doorstane after gloaming, for fear John Heatherblutter, or
some siccan dare-the-deil, should tak a baff at them:  then, on
the other hand, I beflumm'd them wi' Colonel Talbot--wad they
offer to keep up the price again' the Duke's friend?  did they na
ken wha was master?  had they na seen eneugh, by the sad example
of mony a puir misguided unhappy body--'

'Who went to Derby, for example, Mr. Macwheeble?'  said the
Colonel to him, aside.

'Oh' whisht, Colonel, for the love o' God!  let that flee stick
i' the wa'.  There were mony good folk at Derby; and it's ill
speaking of halters,'--with a sly cast of his eye toward the
Baron, who was in a deep reverie.

Starting out of it at once, he took Macwheeble by the button, and
led him into one of the deep window recesses, whence only
fragments of their conversation reached the rest of the party.
It certainly related to stamp-paper and parchment; for no other
subject, even from the mouth of his patron, and he, once more an
efficient one, could have arrested so deeply the Bailie's
reverent and absorbed attention.

'I understand your Honour perfectly; it can be dune as easy as
taking out a decreet in absence.'

'To her and him, after my demise, and to their heirs-male,--but
preferring the second son, if God shall bless them with two, who
is to carry the name and arms of Bradwardine of that Ilk, without
any other name or armorial bearings whatsoever.'

'Tut, your Honour!'  whispered the Bailie, 'I'll mak a slight
jotting the morn; it will cost but a charter of resignation IN
FAVOREM; and I'll hae it ready for the next term in Exchequer.

Their private conversation ended, the Baron was now summoned to
do the honours of Tully-Veolan to new guests.  These were, Major
Melville of Cairnvreckan, and the Reverend Mr. Morton, followed
by two or three others of the Baron's acquaintances, who had been
made privy to his having again acquired the estate of his
fathers.  The shouts of the villagers were also heard beneath in
the courtyard; for Saunders Saunderson, who had kept the secret
for several days with laudable prudence, had unloosed his tongue
upon beholding the arrival of the carriages.

But, while Edward received Major Melville with politeness, and
the clergyman with the most affectionate and grateful kindness,
his father-in-law looked a little awkward, as uncertain how he
should answer the necessary claims of hospitality to his guests,
and forward the festivity of his tenants.  Lady Emily relieved
him, by intimating, that, though she must be an indifferent
representative of Mrs. Edward Waverley in many respects, she
hoped the Baron would approve of the entertainment she had
ordered, in expectation of so many guests; and that they would
find such other accommodations provided, as might in some degree
support the ancient hospitality of Tully-Veolan.  It is
impossible to describe the pleasure which this assurance gave the
Baron, who, with an air of gallantry half appertaining to the
stiff Scottish laird, and half to the officer in the French
service, offered his arm to the fair speaker, and led the way, in
something between a stride and a minuet step, into the large
dining parlour, followed by all the rest of the good company.

By dint of Saunderson's directions and exertions, all here, as
well as in the other apartments, had been disposed as much as
possible according to the old arrangement; and where new movables
had been necessary, they had been selected in the same character
with the old furniture, There was one addition to this fine old
apartment, however, which drew tears into the Baron's eyes.  It
was a large and spirited painting, representing Fergus Mac-Ivor
and Waverley in their Highland dress; the scene a wild, rocky,
and mountainous pass, down which the clan were descending in the
background.  It was taken from a spirited sketch, drawn while
they were in Edinburgh by a young man of high genius, and had
been painted on a full-length scale by an eminent London artist.
Raeburn himself (whose Highland chiefs do all but walk out of the
canvas) could not have done more justice to the subject; and the
ardent, fiery, and impetuous character of the unfortunate Chief
of Glennaquoich was finely contrasted with the contemplative,
fanciful, and enthusiastic expression of his happier friend.
Beside this painting hung the arms which Waverley had borne in
the unfortunate civil war; The whole piece was beheld with
admiration, and deeper feelings.

Men must, however, eat, in spite both of sentiment and vertu; and
the Baron, while he assumed the lower end of the table, insisted
that Lady Emily should do the honours of the head, that they
might, he said, set a meet example to the YOUNG FOLK.  After a
pause of deliberation, employed in adjusting in his own brain the
precedence between the Presbyterian kirk and Episcopal church of
Scotland, he requested Mr. Morton, as the stranger, would crave a
blessing,--observing, that Mr. Rubrick, who was at home, would
return thanks for the distinguished mercies it had been his lot
to experience.  The dinner was excellent.  Saunderson attended in
full costume, with all the former domestics, who had been
collected, excepting one or two, that had not been heard of since
the affair of Culloden.  The cellars were stocked with wine which
was pronounced to be superb, and it had been contrived that the
Bear of the Fountain, in the courtyard, should (for that night
only) play excellent brandy punch for the benefit of the lower
orders.

When the dinner was over, the Baron, about to propose a toast,
cast a somewhat sorrowful look upon the sideboard,--which,
however, exhibited much of his plate, that had either been
secreted or purchased by neighbouring gentlemen from the
soldiery, and by them gladly restored to the original owner.

'In the late times,' he said, 'those must be thankful who have
saved life and land; yet, when I am about to pronounce this
toast, I cannot but regret an old heirloom, Lady Emily--A POCULUM
POTATORIUM, Colonel Talbot'--

Here the Baron's elbow was gently touched by his major-demo, and,
turning round, he beheld, in the hands of Alexander ab Alexandro,
the celebrated cup of Saint Duthac, the Blessed Bear of
Bradwardine!  I question if the recovery of his estate afforded
him more rapture.  'By my honour,' he said, 'one might almost
believe in brownies and fairies, Lady Emily, when your ladyship
is in presence!'

'I am truly happy,' said Colonel Talbot, 'that by the recovery of
this piece of family antiquity, it has fallen within my power to
give you some token of my deep interest in all that concerns my
young friend Edward.  But that you may not suspect Lady Emily for
a sorceress, or me for a conjurer, which is no joke in Scotland,
I must tell you that Frank Stanley, your friend, who has been
seized with a tartan fever ever since he heard Edward's tales of
old Scottish manners, happened to describe to us at second hand
this remarkable cup.  My servant, Spontoon, who, like a true old
soldier, observes everything and says little, gave me afterwards
to understand that he thought he had seen the piece of plate Mr.
Stanley mentioned, in the possession of a certain Mrs. Nosebag,
who, having been originally the helpmate of a pawnbroker, had
found opportunity, during the late unpleasant scenes in Scotland,
to trade a little in her old line, and so became the depositary
of the more valuable part of the spoil of half the army.  You may
believe the cup was speedily recovered; and it will give me very
great pleasure if you allow me to suppose that its value is not
diminished by having been restored through my means.'

A tear mingled with the wine which the Baron filled, as he
proposed a cup of gratitude to Colonel Talbot, and 'The
Prosperity of the united Houses of Waverley-Honour and
Bradwardine!'--

It only remains for me to say, that as no wish was ever uttered
with more affectionate sincerity, there are few which, allowing
for the necessary mutability of human events, have been, upon the
whole, more happily fulfilled.



CHAPTER LXXII

A POSTSCRIPT, WHICH SHOULD HAVE BEEN A PREFACE

Our journey is now finished, gentle reader; and if your patience
has accompanied me through these sheets, the contract is, on your
part, strictly fulfilled.  Yet, like the driver who has received
his full hire, I still linger near you, and make, with becoming
diffidence, a trifling additional claim upon your bounty and good
nature.  You are as free, however, to shut the volume of the one
petitioner, as to close your door in the face of the other.

This should have been a prefatory chapter, but for two reasons:--
First, that most novel readers, as my own conscience reminds me,
are apt to be guilty of the sin of omission respecting that same
matter of prefaces;--secondly, that it is a general custom with
that class of students, to begin with the last chapter of a work;
so that, after all, these remarks, being introduced last in
order, have still the best chance to be read in their proper
place.

There is no European nation, which, within the course of half a
century, or little more, has undergone so complete a change as
this kingdom of Scotland.  The effects of the insurrection of
1745,--the destruction of the patriarchal power of the Highland
chiefs,--the abolition of the heritable jurisdictions of the
Lowland nobility and barons,--the total eradication of the
Jacobite party, which, averse to intermingle with the English, or
adopt their customs, long continued to pride themselves upon
maintaining ancient Scottish manners and customs,--commenced this
innovation.  The gradual influx of wealth, and extension of
commerce, have since united to render the present people of
Scotland a class of beings as different from their grandfathers
as the existing English are from those of Queen Elizabeth's time,
The political and economical effects of these changes have been
traced by Lord Selkirk with great precision and accuracy.  But
the change, though steadily and rapidly progressive, has,
nevertheless, been gradual; and, like those who drift down the
stream of a deep and smooth river, we are not aware of the
progress we have made until we fix our eye on the now distant
point from which we have been drifted.--Such of the present
generation as can recollect the last twenty or twenty-five years
of the eighteenth century, will be fully sensible of the truth of
this statement;--especially if their acquaintance and connexions
lay among those, who, in my younger time, were facetiously called
'folks of the old leaven,' who still cherished a lingering,
though hopeless, attachment, to the house of Stuart.  This race
has now almost entirely vanished from the land, and with it,
doubtless, much absurd political prejudice--but also, many living
examples of singular and disinterested attachment to the
principles of loyalty which they received from their fathers, and
of old Scottish faith, hospitality, worth, and honour.

It was my accidental lot, though not born a Highlander (which may
be an apology for much bad Gaelic), to reside, during my
childhood and youth, among persons of the above description;--and
now, for the purpose of preserving some idea of the ancient
manners of which I have witnessed the almost total extinction, I
have embodied in imaginary scenes, and ascribed to fictitious
characters, a part of the incidents which I then received from
those who were actors in them.  Indeed, the most romantic parts
of this narrative are precisely those which have a foundation in
fact.  The exchange of mutual protection between a Highland
gentleman and an officer of rank in the king's service, together
with the spirited manner in which the latter asserted his right
to return the favour he had received, is literally true.  The
accident by a musket-shot, and the heroic reply imputed to Flora,
relate to a lady of rank not long deceased.  And scarce a
gentleman who was 'in hiding' after the battle of Culloden but
could tell a tale of strange concealments, and of wild and
hair's-breadth 'scapes, as extraordinary as any which I have
ascribed to my heroes.  Of this, the escape of Charles Edward
himself, as the most prominent, is the most striking example.
The accounts of the battle of Preston and skirmish at Clifton are
taken from the narrative of intelligent eye-witnesses, and
corrected from the History of the Rebellion by the late venerable
author of DOUGLAS.  The Lowland Scottish gentlemen, and the
subordinate characters, are not given as individual portraits,
but are drawn from the general habits of the period (of which I
have witnessed some remnants in my younger days), and partly
gathered from tradition.

It has been my object to describe these persons, not by a
caricatured and exaggerated use of the national dialect, but by
their habits, manners, and feelings; so as in some distant degree
to emulate the admirable Irish portraits drawn by Miss Edgeworth,
so different from the 'Teagues' and 'dear joys,' who so long,
with the most perfect family resemblance to each other, occupied
the drama and the novel.

I feel no confidence, however, in the manner in which I have
executed my purpose.  Indeed, so little was I satisfied with my
production, that I laid it aside in an unfinished state, and only
found it again by mere accident among other waste papers in an
old cabinet, the drawers of which I was rummaging, in order to
accommodate a friend with some fishing tackle, after it had been
mislaid for several years.  Two works upon similar subjects, by
female authors, whose genius is highly creditable to their
country, have appeared in the interval; I mean Mrs. Hamilton's
GLENBURNIE, and the late account of Highland Superstitions.  But
the first is confined to the rural habits of Scotland, of which
it has given a picture with striking and impressive fidelity; and
the traditional records of the respectable and ingenious Mrs.
Grant of Laggan, are of a nature distinct from the fictitious
narrative which I have here attempted.

I would willingly persuade myself, that the preceding work will
not be found altogether uninteresting.  To elder persons it will
recall scenes and characters familiar to their youth; and to the
rising generation the tale may present some idea of the manners
of their forefathers.

Yet I heartily wish that the task of tracing the evanescent
manners of his own country had employed the pen of the only man
in Scotland who could have done it justice,--of him so eminently
distinguished in elegant literature,--and whose sketches of
Colonel Caustic and Umphraville are perfectly blended with the
finer traits of national character.  I should in that case have
had more pleasure as a reader than I shall ever feel in the pride
of a successful author, should these sheets confer upon me that
envied distinction.  And as I have inverted the usual
arrangement, placing these remarks at the end of the work to
which they refer, I will venture on a second violation of form,
by closing the whole with a Dedication:--

THESE VOLUMES BEING RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO OUR SCOTTISH
ADDISON,

HENRY MACKENZIE,

BY AN UNKNOWN ADMIRER OF HIS GENIUS.


*



NOTES


NOTE 1.--THE BRADSHAIGH LEGEND

There is a family legend to this purpose, belonging to the
knightly family of Bradshaigh, the proprietors of Haighhall, in
Lancashire, where, I have been told, the event is recorded on a
painted glass window.  The German ballad of the 'Noble Moringer'
turns upon a similar topic.  But undoubtedly many such incidents
may have taken place, where, the distance being great, and the
intercourse infrequent, false reports concerning the fate of the
absent Crusaders must have been commonly circulated, and
sometimes perhaps rather hastily credited at home.


NOTE 2.--TITUS LIVIUS

The attachment to this classic was, it is said, actually
displayed, in the manner mentioned in the text, by an unfortunate
Jacobite in that unhappy period.  He escaped from the jail in
which he was confined for a hasty trial and certain condemnation,
and was retaken as he hovered around the place in which he had
been imprisoned, for which he could give no better reason than
the hope of recovering his favourite Titus Livius.  I am sorry to
add, that the simplicity of such a character was found to form no
apology for his guilt as a rebel, and that he was condemned and
executed.


NOTE 3.--NICHOLAS AMHURST

Nicholas Amhurst, a noted political writer, who conducted for
many years a paper called the Craftsman, under the assumed name
of Caleb d'Anvers.  He was devoted to the Tory interest, and
seconded with much ability the attacks of Pulteney on Sir Robert
Walpole.  He died in 1742, neglected by his great patrons, and in
the most miserable circumstances.

Amhurst survived the downfall of Walpole's power, and had reason
to expect a reward for his labours.  If we excuse Bolingbroke,
who had only saved the shipwreck of his fortunes, we shall be at
a loss to justify Pulteney, who could with ease have given this
man a considerable income.  The utmost of his generosity to
Amhurst, that I ever heard of, was a hogshead of claret!  He
died, it is supposed, of a broken heart; and was buried at the
charge of his honest printer, Richard Franklin.'--LORD
CHESTERFIELD'S CHARACTERS REVIEWED, p. 42.


NOTE 4.--COLONEL GARDINER

I have now given in the text the full name of this gallant and
excellent man, and proceed to copy the account of his remarkable
conversion, as related by Dr. Doddridge.

'This memorable event,' says the pious writer, 'happened towards
the middle of July, 1719.  The major had spent the evening (and,
if I mistake not, it was the Sabbath) in some gay company, and
had an unhappy assignation with a married woman, whom he was to
attend exactly at twelve.  The company broke up about eleven; and
not judging it convenient to anticipate the time appointed, he
went into his chamber to kill the tedious hour, perhaps with some
amusing book, or some other way.  But it very accidentally
happened that he took up a religious book, which his good mother
or aunt had, without his knowledge, slipped into his portmanteau.
It was called, if I remember the title exactly, THE CHRISTIAN
SOLDIER, or HEAVEN TAKEN BY STORM; and it was written by Mr.
Thomas Watson.  Guessing by the title of it that he would find
some phrases of his own profession spiritualized in a manner
which he thought might afford him some diversion, he resolved to
dip into it; but he took no serious notice of anything it had in
it; and yet, while this book was in his hand an impression was
made upon his mind (perhaps God only knows how) which drew after
it a train of the most important and happy consequences.  He
thought he saw an unusual blaze of light fall upon the book which
he was reading, which he at first imagined might happen by some
accident in the candle:  but lifting up his eyes, he apprehended,
to his extreme amazement, that there was before him, as it were
suspended in the air, a visible representation of the Lord Jesus
Christ upon the cross, surrounded on all sides with a glory; and
was impressed, as if a voice, or something equivalent to a voice,
had come to him, to this effect (for he was not confident as to
the words)--"Oh, sinner!  did I suffer this for thee?  and are
these thy returns?" Struck with so amazing a phenomenon as this,
there remained hardly any life in him, so that he sunk down in
the arm-chair in which he sat, and continued, he knew not how
long, insensible.'

'With regard to this vision,' says the ingenious Dr. Hibbert,
'the appearance of our Saviour on the cross, and the awful words
repeated, can be considered in no other light than as so many
recollected images of the mind, which, probably, had their origin
in the language of some urgent appeal to repentance, that the
colonel might have casually read or heard delivered.  From what
cause, however, such ideas were rendered as vivid as actual
impressions, we have no information to be depended upon.  This
vision was certainly attended with one of the most important of
consequences connected with the Christian dispensation--the
conversion of a sinner; and hence no single narrative has,
perhaps, done more to confirm the superstitious opinion that
apparitions of this awful kind cannot arise without a divine
fiat.'  Dr. Hibbert adds, in a note--'A short time before the
vision, Colonel Gardiner had received a severe fall from his
horse.  Did the brain receive some slight degree of injury from
the accident, so as to predispose him to this spiritual
illusion?'--HIBBERT'S PHILOSOPHY OF APPARITIONS, Edinburgh, 1824,
p. 190.


NOTE 5.--SCOTTISH INNS

The courtesy of an invitation to partake a traveller's meal, or
at least that of being invited to share whatever liquor the guest
called for, was expected by certain old landlords in Scotland,
even in the youth of the author.  In requital, mine host was
always furnished with the news of the country, and was probably a
little of a humorist to boot.  The devolution of the whole actual
business and drudgery of the inn upon the poor gudewife, was very
common among the Scottish Bonifaces.  There was in ancient times,
in the city of Edinburgh, a gentleman of good family, who
condescended, in order to gain a livelihood, to become the
nominal keeper of a coffee house, one of the first places of the
kind which had been opened in the Scottish metropolis.  As usual,
it was entirely managed by the careful and industrious Mrs. B--;
while her husband amused himself with field sports, without
troubling his head about the matter.  Once upon a time the
premises having taken fire, the husband was met, walking up the
High Street loaded with his guns and fishing-rods, and replied
calmly to some one who inquired after his wife, 'that the poor
woman was trying to save a parcel of crockery, and some trumpery
books'; the last being those which served her to conduct the
business of the house.

There were many elderly gentlemen in the author's younger days,
who still held it part of the amusement of a journey 'to parley
with mine host,' who often resembled, in his quaint humour, mine
Host of the Garter in the MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR; or Blague of
the George in the MERRY DEVIL OF EDMONTON.  Sometimes the
landlady took her share of entertaining the company.  In either
case, the omitting to pay them due attention gave displeasure,
and perhaps brought down a smart jest, as on the following
occasion:--

A jolly dame, who, not 'Sixty Years since,' kept the principal
caravansary at Greenlaw in Berwickshire, had the honour to
receive under her roof a very worthy clergyman, with three sons
of the same profession, each having a cure of souls:  be it said
in passing, none of the reverend party were reckoned powerful in
the pulpit.  After dinner was over, the worthy senior, in the
pride of his heart, asked Mrs. Buchan whether she ever had had
such a party in her house before.  'Here sit I,' he said, 'a
placed minister of the Kirk of Scotland, and here sit my three
sons, each a placed minister of the same kirk.--confess, Luckie
Buchan, you never had such a party in your house before.'  The
question was not premised by any invitation to sit down and take
a glass of wine or the like, so Mrs. B. answered dryly, 'Indeed,
Sir, I cannot just say that ever I had such a party in my house
before, except once in the forty-five, when I had a Highland
piper here, with his three sons, all Highland pipers; AND DEIL A
SPRING THEY COULD PLAY AMANG THEM.'


NOTE 6.--THE CUSTOM OF KEEPING FOOLS

I am ignorant how long the ancient and established custom of
keeping fools has been disused in England.  Swift writes an
epitaph on the Earl of Suffolk's fool,--

  'Whose name was Dickie Pearce.'

In Scotland the custom subsisted till late in the last century.
At Glamis Castle, is preserved the dress of one of the jesters,
very handsome, and ornamented with many bells.  It is not above
thirty years since such a character stood by the sideboard of a
nobleman of the first rank in Scotland, and occasionally mixed in
the conversation, till he carried the joke rather too far, in
making proposals to one of the young ladies of the family, and
publishing the banns betwixt her and himself in the public
church.


NOTE 7.--PERSECUTION OF EPISCOPAL CLERGYMEN

After the Revolution of 1688, and on some occasions when the
spirit of the Presbyterians had been unusually animated against
their opponents, the Episcopal clergymen, who were chiefly non-
jurors, were exposed to be mobbed, as we should now say, or
rabbled, as the phrase then went, to expiate their political
heresies.  But notwithstanding that the Presbyterians had the
persecution in Charles II and his brother's time to exasperate
them, there was little mischief done beyond the kind of petty
violence mentioned in the text.


NOTE 8.--STIRRUP-CUP

I may here mention, that the fashion of compotation described in
the text, was still occasionally practised in Scotland in the
author's youth.  A company, after having taken leave of their
host, often went to finish the evening at the clachan or village,
in 'womb of tavern.'  Their entertainer always accompanied them
to take the stirrup-cup, which often occasioned a long and late
revel.

The POCULUM POTATORIUM of the valiant Baron, his Blessed Bear,
has a prototype at the fine old Castle of Glamis, so rich in
memorials of ancient times; it is a massive beaker of silver,
double gilt, moulded into the shape of a lion, and holding about
an English pint of wine.  The form alludes to the family name of
Strathmore, which is Lyon, and, when exhibited, the cup must
necessarily be emptied to the Earl's health.  The author ought
perhaps to be ashamed of recording that he has had the honour of
swallowing the contents of the Lion; and the recollection of the
feat served to suggest the story of the Bear of Bradwardine.  In
the family of Scott of Thirlestane (not Thirlestane in the
Forest, but the place of the same name in Roxburghshire) was long
preserved a cup of the same kind, in the form of a jack-boot.
Each guest was obliged to empty this at his departure.  If the
guest's name was Scott, the necessity was doubly imperative.

When the landlord of an inn presented his guests with DEOCH AN
DORUIS, that is, the drink at the door, or the stirrup-cup, the
draught was not charged in the reckoning.  On this point a
learned Bailie of the town of Forfar pronounced a very sound
judgement.

A., an ale-wife in Forfar, had brewed her 'peck of malt,' and set
the liquor out of doors to cool; the cow of B., a neighbour of A.
chanced to come by, and seeing the good beverage, was allured to
taste it, and finally to drink it up.  When A. came to take in
her liquor, she found the tub empty, and from the cow's
staggering and staring, so as to betray her intemperance, she
easily divined the mode in which her 'brewst' had disappeared.
To take vengeance on Crummie's ribs with a stick, was her first
effort.  The roaring of the cow brought B., her master, who
remonstrated with his angry neighbour, and received in reply a
demand for the value of the ale which Crummie had drunk up.  B.
refused payment, and was conveyed before C., the Bailie, or
sitting Magistrate.  He heard the case patiently; and then
demanded of the plaintiff A., whether the cow had sat down to her
potation, or taken it standing.  The plaintiff answered she had
not seen the deed committed, but she supposed the cow drank the
ale standing on her feet; adding, that had she been near, she
would have made her use them to some purpose.  The Bailie, on
this admission, solemnly adjudged the cow's drink to be DEOCH AN
DORUIS--a stirrup-cup, for which no charge could be made without
violating the ancient hospitality of Scotland.


NOTE 9.--CANTING HERALDRY

Although canting heraldry is generally reprobated, it seems
nevertheless to have been adopted in the arms and mottoes of many
honourable families.  Thus the motto of the Vernons, VER NON
SEMPER VIRET, is a perfect pun, and so is that of the Onslows,
FESTINA LENTE.  The PERIISSEM NI PER-IISSEM of the Anstruthers is
liable to a similar objection.  One of that ancient race, finding
that an antagonist, with whom he had fixed a friendly meeting,
was determined to take the opportunity of assassinating him,
prevented the hazard by dashing out his brains with a battle-axe.
Two sturdy arms brandishing such a weapon, form the usual crest
of the family, with the above motto--PERIISSEM NI PER-IISSEM--I
had died, unless I had gone through with it.


NOTE 10.--THE LEVYING OF BLACKMAIL

Mac-Donald of Barrisdale, one of the very last Highland gentlemen
who carried on the plundering system to any great extent, was a
scholar and a well-bred gentleman.   He engraved on his
broadswords the well-known lines--

  Hae tibi erunt artes--pacisque imponere morem,
  Parcere subiectis, et debellare superbos.

Indeed, the levying of blackmail was, before 1745, practised by
several chiefs of very high rank, who, in doing so, contended
that they were lending the laws the assistance of their arms and
swords, and affording a protection which could not be obtained
from the magistracy in the disturbed state of the country.  The
author has seen a memoir of Mac-Pherson of Cluny, chief of that
ancient clan, from which it appears that he levied protection-
money to a very large amount, which was willingly paid even by
some of his most powerful neighbours.  A gentleman of this clan
hearing a clergyman hold forth to his congregation on the crime
of theft, interrupted the preacher to assure him, he might leave
the enforcement of such doctrines to Cluny Mac-Pherson, whose
broadsword would put a stop to theft sooner than all the sermons
of all the ministers of the synod.


NOTE 11.--ROB ROY

An adventure, very similar to what is here stated, actually
befell the late Mr. Abercromby of Tullibody, grandfather of the
present Lord Abercromby, and father of the celebrated Sir Ralph.
When this gentlemen, who lived to a very advanced period of life,
first settled in Stirlingshire, his cattle were repeatedly driven
off by the celebrated Rob Roy, or some of his gang; and at length
he was obliged, after obtaining a proper safe-conduct, to make
the Cateran such a visit as that of Waverley to Bean Lean in the
text.  Rob received him with much courtesy, and made many
apologies for the accident, which must have happened, he said,
through some mistake.  Mr. Abercromby was regaled with collops
from two of his own cattle, which were hung up by the heels in
the cavern, and was dismissed in perfect safety, after having
agreed to pay in future a small sum of blackmail, in
consideration of which Rob Roy not only undertook to forbear his
herds in future, but to replace any that should be stolen from
him by other freebooters.  Mr. Abercromby said, Rob Roy affected
to consider him as a friend to the Jacobite interest, and a
sincere enemy to the Union.  Neither of these circumstances were
true; but the laird thought it quite unnecessary to undeceive his
Highland host at the risk of bringing on a political dispute in
such a situation.  This anecdote I received many years since
(about 1792) from the mouth of the venerable gentleman who was
concerned in it.


NOTE 12.--KIND GALLOWS OF CRIEFF

This celebrated gibbet was, in the memory of the last generation,
still standing at the western end of the town of Crieff, in
Perthshire.  Why it was called the kind gallows, we are unable to
inform the reader with certainty; but it is alleged that the
Highlanders used to touch their bonnets as they passed a place
which had been fatal to many of their countrymen, with the
ejaculation--'God bless her nain sell, and the Teil tamn you!'
It may therefore have been called kind, as being a sort of native
or kindred place of doom to those who suffered there, as in
fulfilment of a natural destiny.


NOTE 13.--CATERANS

The story of the bridegroom carried off by Caterans on his
bridal-day is taken from one which was told to the author by the
late Laird of Mac-Nab, many years since.  To carry off persons
from the Lowlands, and to put them to ransom, was a common
practice with the wild Highlanders, as it is said to be at the
present day with the banditti in the south of Italy.  Upon the
occasion alluded to, a party of Caterans carried off the
bridegroom, and secreted him in some cave near the mountain of
Schehallion.  The young man caught the small-pox before his
ransom could be agreed on; and whether it was the fine cool air
of the place, or the want of medical attendance, Mac-Nab did not
pretend to be positive; but so it was, that the prisoner
recovered, his ransom was paid, and he was restored to his
friends and bride, but always considered the Highland robbers as
having saved his life by their treatment of his malady.


NOTE 14.--RE-PURCHASE OF FORFEITED ESTATES

This happened on many occasions.  Indeed, it was not till after
the total destruction of the clan influence, after 1745, that
purchasers could be found who offered a fair price for the
estates forfeited in 1715, which were then brought to sale by the
creditors of the York-Buildings Company, who had purchased the
whole, or greater part, from Government at a very small price.
Even so late as the period first mentioned, the prejudices of the
public in favour of the heirs of the forfeited families threw
various impediments in the way of intending purchasers of such
property.


NOTE 15.--HIGHLAND POLICY

This sort of political game ascribed to Mac-Ivor was in reality
played by several Highland chiefs, the celebrated Lord Lovat in
particular, who used that kind of finesse to the uttermost.  The
Laird of Mac-- was also captain of an independent company, but
valued the sweets of present pay too well to incur the risk of
losing them in the Jacobite cause.  His martial consort raised
his clan, and headed it in 1745.  But the chief himself would
have nothing to do with king-making, declaring himself for that
monarch, and no other, who gave the Laird of Mac-- 'half a guinea
the day, and half a guinea the morn.'


NOTE 16.--HIGHLAND DISCIPLINE

In explanation of the military exercise observed at the Castle of
Glennaquoich, the author begs to remark, that the Highlanders
were not only well practised in the use of the broadsword,
firelock, and most of the manly sports and trials of strength
common throughout Scotland, but also used a peculiar sort of
drill, suited to their own dress and mode of warfare.  There
were, for instance, different modes of disposing the plaid,--one
when on a peaceful journey, another when danger was apprehended;
one way of enveloping themselves in it when expecting undisturbed
repose, and another which enabled them to start up with sword and
pistol in hand on the slightest alarm.

Previous to 1720, or thereabouts, the belted plaid was
universally worn, in which the portion which surrounded the
middle of the wearer, and that which was flung around his
shoulders, were all of the same piece of tartan.  In a desperate
onset, all was thrown away, and the clan charged bare beneath the
doublet, save for an artificial arrangement of the shirt, which,
like that of the Irish, was always ample, and for the sporran-
mollach, or goat's-skin purse.

The manner of handling the pistol and dirk was also part of the
Highland manual exercise, which the author has seen gone through
by men who had learned it in their youth.


NOTE 17.--HIGHLAND ABHORRENCE OF PORK

Pork, or swine's flesh, in any shape, was, till of late years,
much abominated by the Scotch, nor is it yet a favourite food
amongst them.  King Jamie carried this prejudice to England, and
is known to have abhorred pork almost as much as he did tobacco.
Ben Jonson has recorded this peculiarity, where the gipsy in a
masque, examining the king's hand, says,--

  --'you should, by this line,
  Love a horse, and a hound, but no part of a swine.'--
                                    THE GYPSIES METAMORPHOSED.

James's own proposed banquet for the devil was a loin of pork and
a poll of ling, with a pipe of tobacco for digestion.


NOTE 18.--A HIGHLAND CHIEF'S DINNER-TABLE

In the number of persons of all ranks who assembled at the same
table, though by no means to discuss the same fare, the Highland
Chiefs only retained a custom which had been formerly universally
observed throughout Scotland.  'I myself,' says the traveller
Fynes Morrison, in the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, the scene
being the Lowlands of Scotland, 'was at a knight's house, who had
many servants to attend him, that brought in his meat with their
heads covered with blue caps, the table being more than half
furnished with great platters of porridge each having a little
piece of sodden meat.  And when the table was served, the
servants did sit down with us; but the upper mess, instead of
porridge, had a pullet, with some prunes in the broth.'--TRAVELS,
p. 155.

Till within this last century, the farmers, even of a respectable
condition, dined with their work-people.  The difference betwixt
those of high degree was ascertained by the place of the party
above or below the salt, or, sometimes, by a line drawn with
chalk on the dining-table.  Lord Lovat, who knew well how to feed
the vanity and restrain the appetites of his clansmen, allowed
each sturdy Fraser, who had the slightest pretension to be a
Duinhe-wassel, the full honour of the sitting, but, at the same
time, took care that his young kinsmen did not acquire at his
table any taste for outlandish luxuries.  His Lordship was always
ready with some honourable apology, why foreign wines and French
brandy--delicacies which he conceived might sap the hardy habits
of his cousins--should not circulate past an assigned point on
the table.


NOTE 19.--CONAN THE JESTER

In the Irish ballads relating to Fion (the Fingal of Mac-
Pherson), there occurs, as in the primitive poetry of most
nations, a cycle of heroes, each of whom has some distinguishing
attribute:  upon these qualities, and the adventures of those
possessing them, many proverbs are formed which are still current
in the Highlands.  Among other characters, Conan is distinguished
as in some respects a kind of Thersites, but brave and daring
even to rashness.  He had made a vow that he would never take a
blow without returning it; and having, like other heroes of
antiquity, descended to the infernal regions, he received a cuff
from the Arch-fiend; who presided there, which he instantly
returned, using the expression in the text.  Sometimes the
proverb is worded thus:--'Claw for claw, and the devil take the
shortest nails, as Conan said to the devil.'


NOTE 20.--WATERFALL

The description of the waterfall mentioned in this chapter is
taken from that of Ledeard, at the farm so called on the northern
side of Lochard, and near the head of the Lake, four or five
miles from Aberfoyle.  It is upon a small scale, but otherwise
one of the most exquisite cascades it is possible to behold.  The
appearance of Flora with the harp, as described, has been justly
censured as too theatrical and affected for the ladylike
simplicity of her character.  But something may be allowed to her
French education, in which point and striking effect always make
a considerable object.


NOTE 21.--MAC-FARLANE'S LANTERN

The clan of Mac-Farlane, occupying the fastnesses of the western
side of Loch Lomond, were great depredators on the Low Country;
and as their excursions were made usually by night, the moon was
proverbially called their lantern.  Their celebrated pibroch of
HOGGIL NAM BO, which is the name of their gathering tune,
intimates similar practices,--the sense being--

  We are bound to drive the bullocks,
  All by hollows, hirsts, and hillocks,
  Through the sleet and through the rain;
  When the moon is beaming low
  On frozen lake and hills of snow,
  Bold and heartily we go;
  And all for little gain.


NOTE 22.--CASTLE OF DOUNE

This noble ruin is dear to my recollection, from associations
which have been long and painfully broken.  It holds a commanding
station on the banks of the river Teith, and has been one of the
largest castles in Scotland.  Murdock, Duke of Albany, the
founder of this stately pile, was beheaded on the Castle-hill of
Stirling, from which he might see the towers of Doune, the
monument of his fallen greatness.

In 1745-6, as stated in the text, a garrison on the part of the
Chevalier was put into the castle, then less ruinous than at
present.  It was commanded by Mr. Stewart of Balloch, as governor
for Prince Charles he was a man of property near Callander.  This
castle became at that time the actual scene of a romantic escape
made by John Home, the author of Douglas, and some other
prisoners, who, having been taken at the battle of Falkirk, were
confined there by the insurgents.  The poet, who had in his own
mind a large stock of that romantic and enthusiastic spirit of
adventure, which he has described as animating the youthful hero
of his drama, devised and undertook the perilous enterprise of
escaping from his prison.  He inspired his companions with his
sentiments and when every attempt at open force was deemed
hopeless, they resolved to twist their bed-clothes into ropes,
and thus to descend.  Four persons, with Home himself, reached
the ground in safety.  But the rope broke with the fifth, who was
a tall lusty man.  The sixth was Thomas Barrow, a brave young
Englishman, a particular friend of Home's.  Determined to take
the risk, even in such unfavourable circumstances, Barrow
committed himself to the broken rope, slid down on it as far as
if could assist him, and then let himself drop.  His friends
beneath succeeded in breaking his fall.  Nevertheless, he
dislocated his ankle, and had several of his ribs broken.  His
companions, however, were able to bear him off in safety.

The Highlanders next morning sought for their prisoners with
great activity.  An old gentleman told the author he remembered
seeing the commander Stewart,

  Bloody with spurring, fiery red with haste,

riding furiously through the country in quest of the fugitives.


NOTE 23.--JACOBITE SENTIMENTS

The Jacobite sentiments were general among the western counties,
and in Wales.  But although the great families of the Wynnes, the
Wyndhams, and others, had come under an actual obligation to join
Prince Charles if he should land, they had done so under the
express stipulation, that he should be assisted by an auxiliary
army of French, without which they foresaw the enterprise would
be desperate.  Wishing well to his cause, therefore, and watching
an opportunity to join him, they did not, nevertheless, think
themselves bound in honour to do so, as he was only supported by
a body of wild mountaineers, speaking an uncouth dialect, and
wearing a singular dress.  The race up to Derby struck them with
more dread than admiration.  But it was difficult to say what the
effect might have been, had either the battle of Preston or
Falkirk been fought and won during the advance into England.


NOTE 24.--THE CHEVALIER'S IRISH OFFICERS

Divisions early showed themselves in the Chevalier's little army,
not only amongst the independent chieftains, who were far too
proud to brook subjection to each other, but betwixt the Scotch
and Charles's governor O'Sullivan, an Irishman by birth, who,
with some of his countrymen bred in the Irish Brigade in the
service of the King of France, had an influence with the
Adventurer much resented by the Highlanders, who were sensible
that their own clans made the chief, or rather the only strength
of his enterprise.  There was a feud, also, between Lord George
Murray, and James Murray of Broughton, the Prince's secretary,
whose disunion greatly embarrassed the affairs of the Adventurer.
In general, a thousand different pretensions divided their little
army, and finally contributed in no small degree to its
overthrow.


NOTE 25.--FIELD-PIECE IN THE HIGHLAND ARMY

This circumstance, which is historical, as well as the
description that precedes it, will remind the reader of the war
of La Vendee, in which the royalists, consisting chiefly of
insurgent peasantry, attached a prodigious and even superstitious
interest to the possession of a piece of brass ordnance, which
they called Marie Jeanne.

The Highlanders of an early period were afraid of cannon, with
the noise and effect of which they were totally unacquainted.  It
was by means of three or four small pieces of artillery that the
Earl of Huntly and Errol, in James VI's time, gained a great
victory at Glenlivat, over a numerous Highland army, commanded by
the Earl of Argyle.  At the battle of the Bridge of Dee, General
Middleton obtained by his artillery a similar success, the
Highlanders not being able to stand the discharge of MUSKET'S-
MOTHER, which was the name they bestowed on great guns.  In an
old ballad on the battle of the Bridge of Dee, these verses
occur:--

  The Highlandmen are pretty men
  For handling sword and shield,
  But yet they are but simple men
  To stand a stricken field.

  The Highlandmen are pretty men
  For target and claymore,
  But yet they are but naked men
  To face the cannon's roar.

  For the cannons roar on a summer night
  Like thunder in the air;
  Was never man in Highland garb
  Would face the cannon fair.

But the Highlanders of 1745 had got far beyond the simplicity of
their forefathers, and showed throughout the whole war how little
they dreaded artillery, although the common people still attached
some consequence to the possession of the field-piece which led
to this disquisition.


NOTE 26.--ANDERSON OF WHITBURGH

The faithful friend who pointed out the pass by which the
Highlanders moved from Tranent to Seaton, was Robert Anderson,
Junior, of Whitburgh, a gentleman of property in East Lothian.
He had been interrogated by the Lord George Murray concerning the
possibility of crossing the uncouth and marshy piece of ground
which divided the armies, and which he described as
impracticable.  When dismissed, he recollected that there was a
circuitous path leading eastward through the marsh into the
plain, by which the Highlanders might turn the flank of Sir John
Cope's position, without being exposed to the enemy's fire.
Having mentioned his opinion to Mr. Hepburn of Keith, who
instantly saw its importance, he was encouraged by that gentleman
to awake Lord George Murray, and communicate the idea to him.
Lord George received the information with grateful thanks, and
instantly awakened Prince Charles, who was sleeping in the field
with a bunch of peas under his head.  The Adventurer received
with alacrity the news that there was a possibility of bringing
an excellently provided army to a decisive battle with his own
irregular forces.  His joy on the occasion was not very
consistent with the charge of cowardice brought against him by
Chevalier Johnstone, a discontented follower, whose Memoirs
possess at least as much of a romantic as a historical character.
Even by the account of the Chevalier himself, the Prince was at
the head of the second line of the Highland army during the
battle, of which he says, 'It was gained with such rapidity, that
in the second line, where I was still by the side of the Prince,
we saw no other enemy than those who were lying on the ground
killed and wounded, THOUGH WE WERE NOT MORE THAN FIFTY PACES
BEHIND OUR FIRST LINE, RUNNING ALWAYS AS FAST AS WE COULD TO
OVERTAKE THEM.'

This passage in the Chevalier's Memoirs places the Prince within
fifty paces of the best of the battle, a position which would
never have been the choice of one unwilling to take a share of
its dangers.  Indeed, unless the chiefs had complied with the
young Adventurer's proposal to lead the van in person, it does
not appear that he could have been deeper in the action.


NOTE 27.--DEATH OF COLONEL GARDINER

The death of this good Christian and gallant man is thus given by
his affectionate biographer Dr. Doddridge, from the evidence of
eye-witnesses:--

'He continued all night under arms, wrapped up in his cloak, and
generally sheltered under a rick of barley, which happened to be
in the field.  About three in the morning he called-his domestic
servants to him, of which there were four in waiting.  He
dismissed three of them with most affectionate Christian advice,
and such solemn charges relating to the performance of their duty
and the care of their souls, as seemed plainly to intimate that
he apprehended it was at least very probable he was taking his
last farewell of them.  There is great reason to believe that he
spent the little remainder of the time, which could not be much
above an hour, in those devout exercises of soul which had been
so long habitual to him and to which so many circumstances did
then concur to call him.  The army was alarmed, by break of day,
by the noise of the rebels' approach, and the attack was made
before sunrise, yet when it was light enough to discern what
passed.  As soon as the enemy came within gunshot they made a
furious fire; and it is said that the dragoons which constituted
the left wing immediately fled.  The Colonel, at the beginning of
the onset, which in the whole lasted but a few minutes, received
a wound by a bullet in his left breast, which made him give a
sudden spring in his saddle upon which his servant, who led the
horse, would have persuaded him to retreat, but he said it was
only a wound in the flesh, and fought on, though he presently
after received a shot in his right thigh.  In the meantime, it
was discerned that some of the enemy fell by him, and
particularly one man, who had made him a treacherous visit but a
few days before, with great profession of zeal for the present
establishment.

'Events of this kind pass in less time than the description of
them can be written, or than it can be read.  The Colonel was for
a few moments supported by his men, and particularly by that
worthy person Lieutenant-Colonel Whitney, who was shot through
the arm here, and a few months after fell nobly at the battle of
Falkirk, and by Lieutenant West, a man of distinguished bravery,
as also by about fifteen dragoons, who stood by him to the last.
But after a faint fire, the regiment in general was seized with a
panic; and though their Colonel and some other gallant officers
did what they could to rally them once or twice, they at last
took a precipitate flight.  And just in the moment when Colonel
Gardiner seemed to be making a pause to deliberate what duty
required him to do in such circumstances, an accident happened,
which must, I think, in the judgement of every worthy and
generous man, be allowed a sufficient apology for exposing his
life to so great hazard, when his regiment had left him.  He saw
a party of the foot, who were then bravely fighting near him, and
whom he was ordered to support, had no officer to head them; upon
which he said eagerly, in the hearing of the person from whom I
had this account, "These brave fellows will be cut to pieces for
want of a commander," or words to that effect; which while he was
speaking, he rode up to them and cried out, "Fire on, my lads,
and fear nothing." But just as the words were out of his mouth, a
Highlander advanced towards him with a scythe fastened to a long
pole, with which he gave him so dreadful a wound on his right
arm, that his sword dropped out of his hand; and at the same time
several others coming about him while he was thus dreadfully
entangled with that cruel weapon, he was dragged off from his
horse.  The moment he fell, another Highlander, who, if the
king's evidence at Carlisle may be credited (as I know not why
they should not, though the unhappy creature died denying it),
was one Mac-Naught, who was executed about a year after, gave him
a stroke either with a broadsword or a Lochaber-axe (for my
informant could not exactly distinguish) on the hinder part of
his head, which was the mortal blow.  All that his faithful
attendant saw further at this time was, that, as his hat was
falling off, he took it in his left hand, and waved it as a
signal to him to retreat, and added what were the last words he
ever heard him speak, "Take care of yourself," upon which the
servant retired.'--SOME REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF
COLONEL JAMES GARDINER, BY P. DODDRIDGE, D.D., London, 1747, p.
187.

I may remark on this extract, that it confirms the account given
in the text of the resistance offered by some of the English
infantry.  Surprised by a force of a peculiar and unusual
description, their opposition could not be long or formidable,
especially as they were deserted by the cavalry, and those who
undertook to manage the artillery.  But although the affair was
soon decided, I have always understood that many of the infantry
showed an inclination to do their duty.


NOTE 28.-THE LAIRD OF BALMAWHAPPLE

It is scarcely necessary to say that the character of this brutal
young Laird is entirely imaginary.  A gentleman, however, who
resembled Balmawhapple in the article of courage only, fell at
Preston in the manner described.  A Perthshire gentleman of high
honour and respectability, one of the handful of cavalry who
followed the fortunes of Charles Edward, pursued the fugitive
dragoons almost alone till near St. Clement's Wells, where the
efforts of some of the officers had prevailed on a few of them to
make a momentary stand. Perceiving at this moment that they were
pursued by only one man and a couple of servants, they turned
upon him and cut him down with their swords.  I remember, when a
child, sitting on his grave, where the grass long grew rank and
green, distinguishing it from the rest of the field.  A female of
the family then residing at St. Clement's Wells used to tell me
the tragedy, of which she had been an eye-witness, and showed me
in evidence one of the silver clasps of the unfortunate
gentleman's waistcoat.


NOTE 29.--ANDREA DE FERRARA

The name of Andrea de Ferrara is inscribed on all the Scottish
broadswords which are accounted of peculiar excellence.  Who this
artist was, what were his fortunes, and when he flourished, have
hitherto defied the research of antiquaries; only it is in
general believed that Andrea de Ferrara was a Spanish or Italian
artificer, brought over by James IV or V to instruct the Scots in
the manufacture of sword blades.  Most barbarous nations excel in
the fabrication of arms; and the Scots had attained great
proficiency in forging swords, so early as the field of Pinkie;
at which period the historian Patten describes them as 'all
notably broad and thin, universally made to slice, and of such
exceeding good temper, that as I never saw any so good, so I
think it hard to devise better.'  ACCOUNT OF SOMERSET'S
EXPEDITION.

It may be observed, that the best and most genuine Andrea
Ferraras have a crown marked on the blades.


NOTE 30.--MISS NAIRNE

The incident here said to have happened to Flora, Mac-Ivor,
actually befell Miss Nairne, a lady with whom the author had the
pleasure of being acquainted.  As the Highland army rushed into
Edinburgh, Miss Nairne, like other ladies who approved of their
cause, stood waving her handkerchief from a balcony, when a ball
from a Highlander's musket, which was discharged by accident,
grazed her forehead.  'Thank God' said she, the instant she
recovered, 'that the accident happened to me, whose principles
are known.  Had it befallen a Whig, they would have said it was
done on purpose.'


NOTE 31.--PRINCE CHARLES EDWARD

The Author of Waverley has been charged with painting the young
Adventurer in colours more amiable than his character deserved.
But having known many individuals who were near his person, he
has been described according to the light in which those eye-
witnesses saw his temper and qualifications.  Something must be
allowed, no doubt, to the natural exaggerations of those who
remembered him as the bold and adventurous Prince, in whose cause
they had braved death and ruin; but is their evidence to give
place entirely to that of a single malcontent?

I have already noticed the imputations thrown by the Chevalier
Johnstone on the Prince's courage.  But some part at least of
that gentleman's tale is purely romantic.  It would not, for
instance, be supposed, that at the time he is favouring us with
the highly-wrought account of his amour with the adorable Peggie,
the Chevalier Johnstone was a married man, whose grandchild is
now alive, or that the whole circumstantial story concerning the
outrageous vengeance taken by Gordon of Abbachie on a
Presbyterian clergyman, is entirely apocryphal.  At the same time
it may be admitted, that the Prince, like others of his family,
did not esteem the services done him by his adherents so highly
as he ought.  Educated in high ideas of his hereditary right, he
has been supposed to have held every exertion and sacrifice made
in his cause as too much the duty of the person making it, to
merit extravagant gratitude on his part.  Dr. King's evidence
(which his leaving the Jacobite interest renders somewhat
doubtful) goes to strengthen this opinion.

The ingenious editor of Johnstone's MEMOIRS has quoted a story
said to be told by Helvetius, stating that Prince Charles Edward,
far from voluntarily embarking on his daring expedition, was
literally bound hand and foot, and to which he seems disposed to
yield credit.  Now, it being a fact as well known as any in his
history, and, so far as I know, entirely undisputed, that the
Prince's personal entreaties and urgency positively forced
Boisdale and Lochiel into insurrection, when they were earnestly
desirous that he would put off his attempt until he could obtain
a sufficient force from France, it will be very difficult to
reconcile his alleged reluctance to undertake the expedition,
with his desperately insisting on carrying the rising into
effect, against the advice and entreaty of his most powerful and
most sage partisans.  Surely a man who had been carried bound on
board the vessel which brought him to so desperate an enterprise,
would have taken the opportunity afforded by the reluctance of
his partisans, to return to France in safety.

It is averred in Johnstone's Memoirs, that Charles Edward left
the field of Culloden without doing the utmost to dispute the
victory; and, to give the evidence on both sides, there is in
existence the more trustworthy testimony of Lord Elcho, who
states, that he himself earnestly exhorted the Prince to charge
at the head of the left wing, which was entire, and retrieve the
day, or die with honour.  And on his counsel being declined, Lord
Elcho took leave of him with a bitter execration, swearing he
would never look on his face again, and kept his word.

On the other hand, it seems to have been the opinion of almost
all the other officers, that the day was irretrievably lost, one
wing of the Highlanders being entirely routed, the rest of the
army out-numbered, out-flanked, and in a condition totally
hopeless.  In this situation of things, the Irish officers who
surrounded Charles's person interfered to force him off the
field.  A cornet who was close to the Prince, left a strong
attestation, that he had seen Sir Thomas Sheridan seize the
bridle of his horse, and turn him round.  There is some
discrepancy of evidence; but the opinion of Lord Elcho, a man of
fiery temper, and desperate at the ruin which he beheld
impending, cannot fairly be taken in prejudice of a character for
courage which is intimated by the nature of the enterprise
itself, by the Prince's eagerness to fight on all occasions, by
his determination to advance from Derby to London, and by the
presence of mind which he manifested during the romantic perils
of his escape.  The author is far from claiming for this
unfortunate person the praise due to splendid talents; but he
continues to be of opinion, that at the period of his enterprise,
he had a mind capable of facing danger and aspiring to fame.

That Charles Edward had the advantages of a graceful presence,
courtesy, and an address and manner becoming his station, the
author never heard disputed by any who approached his person, nor
does he conceive that these qualities are overcharged in the
present attempt to sketch his portrait.  The following extracts,
corroborative of the general opinion respecting the Prince's
amiable disposition, are taken from a manuscript account of his
romantic expedition, by James Maxwell of Kirkconnel, of which I
possess a copy, by the friendship of J. Menzies, Esq., of
Pitfoddells.  The author, though partial to the Prince, whom he
faithfully followed, seems to have been a fair and candid man,
and well acquainted with the intrigues among the Adventurer's
council:--

'Everybody was mightily taken with the Prince's figure and
personal behaviour.  There was but one voice about them.  Those
whom interest or prejudice made a runaway to his cause, could not
help acknowledging that they wished him well in all other
respects, and could hardly blame him for his present undertaking.
Sundry things had concurred to raise his character to the highest
pitch, besides the greatness of the enterprise, and the conduct
that had hitherto appeared in the execution of it.  There were
several instances of good nature and humanity that had made a
great impression on people's minds, I shall confine myself to two
or three.  Immediately after the battle, as the Prince was riding
along the ground that Cope's army had occupied a few minutes
before, one of the officers came up to congratulate him, and
said, pointing to the killed, "Sir, there are your enemies at
your feet."  The Prince, far from exulting, expressed a great
deal of compassion for his father's deluded subjects, whom he
declared he was heartily sorry to see in that posture.  Next day,
while the Prince was at Pinkie-house, a citizen of Edinburgh came
to make some representation to Secretary Murray about the tents
that city was ordered to furnish against a certain day.  Murray
happened to be out of the way, which the Prince hearing of,
called to have the gentleman brought to him, saying, he would
rather dispatch the business, whatever it was, himself, than have
the gentleman wait, which he did, by granting everything that was
asked.  So much affability in a young prince, flushed with
victory, drew encomiums even from his enemies.  But what gave the
people the highest idea of him, was the negative he gave to a
thing that very nearly concerned his interest, and upon which the
success of his enterprise perhaps depended.  It was proposed to
send one of the prisoners to London, to demand of that court a
cartel for the exchange of prisoners taken, and to be taken,
during this war, and to intimate that a refusal would be looked
upon as a resolution on their part to give no quarter.  It was
visible a cartel would be of great advantage to the Prince's
affairs; his friends would be more ready to declare for him if
they had nothing to fear but the chance of war in the field; and
if the court of London refused to settle a cartel, the Prince was
authorized to treat his prisoners in the same manner the Elector
of Hanover was determined to treat such of the Prince's friends
as might fall into his hands:  it was urged that a few examples
would compel the court of London to comply.  It was to be
presumed that the officers of the English army would make a point
of it.  They had never engaged in the service but upon such terms
as are in use among all civilized nations, and it could be no
stain upon their honour to lay down their commissions if these
terms were not observed, and that owing to the obstinacy of their
own Prince.  Though this scheme was plausible, and represented as
very important, the Prince could never be brought into it:  it
was below him, he said, to make empty threats, and he would never
put such as those into execution; he would never in cold blood
take away lives which he had saved in heat of action, at the
peril of his own.  These were not the only proofs of good nature
the Prince gave about this time.  Every day produced something
new of this kind.  These things softened the rigour of a military
government, which was only imputed to the necessity of his
affairs, and which he endeavoured to make as gentle and easy as
possible.'

It has been said, that the Prince sometimes exacted more state
and ceremonial than seemed to suit his condition; but, on the
other hand some strictness of etiquette was altogether
indispensable where he must otherwise have been exposed to
general intrusion.  He could also endure, with a good grace, the
retorts which his affectation of ceremony sometimes exposed him
to.  It is said, for example, that Grant of Glenmoriston having
made a hasty march to join Charles, at the head of his clan,
rushed into the Prince's presence at Holyrood with unceremonious
haste, without having attended to the duties of the toilet.  The
Prince received him kindly, but not without a hint that a
previous interview with the barber might not have been wholly
unnecessary.  'It is not beardless boys,' answered the displeased
Chief, 'who are to do your Royal Highness's turn.'  The Chevalier
took the rebuke in good part.

On the whole, if Prince Charles had concluded his life soon after
his miraculous escape, his character in history must have stood
very high.  As it was, his station is amongst those, a certain
brilliant portion of whose life forms a remarkable contrast to
all which precedes, and all which follows it.


NOTE 32.--THE SKIRMISH AT CLIFTON

The following account of the skirmish at Clifton is extracted
from the manuscript Memoirs of Evan Macpherson of Cluny, chief of
the clan Macpherson who had the merit of supporting the principal
brunt of that spirited affair.  The Memoirs appear to have been
composed about 1755, only ten years after the action had taken
place.  They were written in France, where that gallant Chief
resided in exile, which accounts for some Gallicisms which occur
in the narrative.

'In the Prince's return from Derby back towards Scotland, my Lord
George Murray, Lieutenant-General, cheerfully charg'd himself
with the command of the rear; a post, which, altho' honourable,
was attended with great danger, many difficulties, and no small
fatigue; for the Prince being apprehensive that his retreat to
Scotland might be cut off by Marischall Wade, who lay to the
northward of him with an armie much superior to what H. R. H.
had, while the Duke of Comberland with his whole cavalrie
followed hard in the rear, was obliged to hasten his marches.  It
was not, therefore, possible for the artilirie to march so fast
as the Prince's armie, in the depth of winter, extremely bad
weather, and the worst roads in England; so Lord George Murray
was obliged often to continue his marches long after it was dark
almost every night, while at the same time, he had frequent
allarms and disturbances from the Duke of Comberland's advanc'd
parties.  Towards the evening of the twentie-eight December 1745,
the Prince entered the town of Penrith, in the Province of
Comberland.  But as Lord George Murray could not bring up the
artilirie so fast as he wou'd have wish'd, he was obliged to pass
the night six miles short of that town, together with the
regiment of Mac-Donel of Glengarrie, which that day happened to
have the arrear guard.  The Prince, in order to refresh his
armie, and to give my Lord George and the artilirie time to come
up, resolved to sejour the 29th at Penrith; so ordered his little
army to appear in the morning under arms, in order to be
reviewed, and to know in what manner the numbers stood from his
haveing entered England.  It did not at that time amount to 5000
foot in all, with about 400 cavalrie, composed of the noblesse
who serv'd as volunteers, part of whom form'd a first troop of
guards for the Prince, under the command of My Lord Elchoe, now
Comte de Weems, who, being proscribed, is presently in France.
Another part formed a second troup of guards under the command of
My Lord Balmirino, who was beheaded at the Tower of London.  A
third part serv'd under My Lord le Comte de Kilmarnock, who was
likewise beheaded at the Tower.  A fourth part serv'd under My
Lord Pitsligow, who is also proscribed; which cavalrie, tho' very
few in numbers, being all Noblesse, were very brave, and of
infinite advantage to the foot, not only in the day of battle,
but in serving as advanced guards on the several marches, and in
patroling dureing the night on the different roads which led
towards the towns where the army happened to quarter.

'While this small army was out in a body on the 29th December,
upon a rising ground to the northward of Penrith, passing review,
Mons. de Cluny with his tribe, was ordered to the Bridge of
Clifton, about a mile to southward of Penrith, after having
pass'd in review before Mons. Patullo, who was charged with the
inspection of the troops, and was likewise Quarter Master General
of the army, and is now in France.  They remained under arms at
the Bridge, waiting the arrival of My Lord George Murray with the
artilirie, whom Mons. de Cluny had orders to cover in passing the
bridge.  They arrived about sunsett closely pursued by the Duke
of Comberland with the whole body of his cavalrie, reckoned
upwards of 3000 strong, about a thousand of whom, as near as
might be computed, dismounted, in order to cut off the passage of
the artilirie towards the bridge, while the Duke and the others
remained on horseback in order to attack the arrear.  My Lord
George Murray advanced, and although he found Mons. de Cluny and
his tribe in good spirits under arms, yet the circumstance
appear'd extremely delicate.  The numbers were vastly unequall,
and the attack seem'd very dangerous; so my Lord George declin'd
giving orders to such time as he ask'd Mons. de Cluny's oppinion.
"I will attack them with all my heart," says Mons. de Cluny, "if
you order me." "I do order it then," answered my Lord George, and
immediately went on himself along with Mons. de Cluny, and fought
sword in hand on foot, at the head of the single tribe of
Macphersons.  They in a moment made their way through a strong
hedge of thorns, under the cover whereof the cavalrie had taken
their station, in the struggle of passing which hedge My Lord
George Murray, being dressed EN MONTAGNARD, as all the army were,
lost his bonnet and wig; so continued to fight bare-headed during
the action, They at first made a brisk discharge of their
firearms on the enemy, then attacked them with their sabres, and
made a great slaughter a considerable time, which obliged
Comberland and his cavalrie to fly with precipitation and in
great confusion; in so much, that if the Prince had been provided
in a sufficient number of cavalrie to have taken advantage of the
disorder, it is beyond question that the Duke of Comberland and
the bulk of his cavalrie had been taken prisoners.  By this time
it was so dark that it was not possible to view or number the
slain, who filled all the ditches which happened to be on the
ground where they stood.  But it was computed that, besides those
who went off wounded upwards of a hundred at least were left on
the spot, among whom was Colonel Honeywood, who commanded the
dismounted cavalrie, whose sabre, of considerable value, Mons. de
Cluny brought off and still preserves; and his tribe lykeways
brought off many arms;--the Colonel was afterwards taken up, and,
his wounds being dress'd, with great difficultie recovered.
Mons. de Cluny lost only in the action twelve men, of whom some
haveing been only wounded, fell afterwards into the hands of the
enemy, and were sent as slaves to America, whence several of them
returned, and one of them is now in France, a serjeant in the
Regiment of Royal Scots.  How soon the accounts of the enemie's
approach had reached the Prince, H. R. H. had immediately ordered
Mi-Lord le Comte de Nairne, Brigadier, who, being proscribed, is
now in France, with the three batalions of the Duke of Athol, the
batalion of the Duke of Perth, and some other troups under his
command, in order to support Cluny, and to bring off the
artilirie.  But the action was intirely over before the Comte de
Nairne, with his command, cou'd reach nigh to the place.  They
therefore return'd all to Penrith, and the artilirie marched up
in good order.  Nor did the Duke of Comberland ever afterwards
dare to come within a day's march of the Prince and his army
dureing the course of all that retreat, which was conducted with
great prudence and safety, when in some manner surrounded by
enemies.'


NOTE 33.--THE OATH UPON THE DIRK

As the heathen deities contracted an indelible obligation if they
swore by Styx, the Scottish Highlanders had usually some peculiar
solemnity attached to an oath which they intended should be
binding on them.  Very frequently it consisted in laying their
hand, as they swore, on their own drawn dirk; which dagger,
becoming a party to the transaction, was invoked to punish any
breach of faith.  But, by whatever ritual the oath was
sanctioned, the party was extremely desirous to keep secret what
the especial oath was, which he considered as irrevocable.  This
was a matter of great convenience, as he felt no scruple in
breaking his asseveration when made in any other form than that
which he accounted as peculiarly solemn; and therefore readily
granted any engagement which bound him no longer than he
inclined.  Whereas, if the oath which he accounted inviolable
was once publicly known, no party with whom he might have
occasion to contract, would have rested satisfied with any other.
Louis XI of France practised the same sophistry, for he also had
a peculiar species of oath, the only one which he was ever known
to respect, and which, therefore, he was very unwilling to
pledge.  The only engagement which that wily tyrant accounted
binding upon him, was an oath by the Holy Cross of Saint Lo
d'Angers, which contained a Portion of the True Cross.  If he
prevaricated after taking this oath, Louis believed he should
die within the year.  The Constable Saint Paul, being invited to
a personal conference with Louis, refused to meet the king unless
he would agree to ensure him safe conduct under sanction of this
oath.  But, says Comines, the king replied, he would never again
pledge that engagement to mortal man, though he was willing to
take any other oath which could be devised.  The treaty broke
off, therefore, after much chaffering concerning the nature of
the vow which Louis was to take.  Such is the difference between
the dictates of superstition and those of conscience.


*

GLOSSARY

ABIIT, EVASIT, ERUPIT, EFFUGIT, more correctly the quotation is,
'abiit, excessit, evasit, erupit': varying terms to express the
haste, secrecy, and energy of the flight.

ABOON or ABUNE, above.

ACCOLADE, embrace.

ADSCRIPTI GLEBAE, slaves, transferred with the land to which they
are bound, from one possessor to another.

AHINT, behind.

AITS, oats.

ALERTE A LA MURAILLE, 'Quick to the wall!'

ALEXANDER AB ALEXANDRO, Alexander the son of Alexander.

ALMA = 'alma mater terra', the land, the bounteous mother.

ALTER EGO, his other self.

AMBRY, AWMRY, chest.

ANENT, concerning.

ANILIA, old women's tales.

APOTHEOSIS, deification.

ARIETTE, air.

ASSOILZIED, acquitted, or absolved.

ASSYTHMENT, satisfaction.


BAFF, slap.

BAGGANETS, bayonets.

BARLEY, parley; CRY BARLEY IN A BRUILZIE, call a truce during a
scrimmage.

BARON-BAILIE, steward of the estate.

BAWBEE, halfpenny.

BAXTER, baker.

BEAUFET, buffet, sideboard.

BEFLUMMED, befooled.

BEGUNK, trick.

BEN, within (by, in).

BENEMPT, named.

BENT, open country.

BHAIRD, bard.

BIBLIOPOLIST, seller of books.

BIELDY, sheltered.

BIRLIEMAN, a parish official.

BLIND, hidden, out of the way.

BLOOD-WIT, blood-money, compensation for homicide.

BODACH, spectre.

BODLE, farthing.

BOGLE, bogey.

BON VIVANT, a lover of good fare.

BOUNE, make ready.

BRANDER, broil.

BRAW, fine.

BROGUES, shoes.

BROO', broth.

BRUCKLE, brittle, frail.

BRUIK, possess.

BRUILZIE, broil, scrimmage.

BURGONET, helmet.

BUSK, get ready.


CAILLIACH, crone, old woman.

CAISSE MILITAIRE, military chest.

CALLANT, lad.

CANNY, shrewd; UNCANNY or NO CANNY, eerie.

CANTER, beggar; from the whining or 'canting' tone.

CANTRIPS, tricks.

CATH-DATH, tartan.

C'EST DES DEUX OREILLES, properly, 'c'est d'une oreille,' an
expression appreciative of good wine.

C'EST L'HOMME KI SE BAST ET KI CONSEILLE, it is the man who
fights and gives counsel.

CEAN-KINNE, head of the clan.

CEDANT ARMA TOGAE, let weapons give place to the citizen's robe.

CELA NE TIRE A RIEN, that counts for nothing.

CELA VA SANS DIRE, that goes without saying.

CESS-MONEY, land-tax.

CHANGE-HOUSE, public house.

CHEVAUX-DE-POSTE, post-horses.

CHIEL, person.

CLACHAN, village.

CLAMHEWIT, slash, clout.

CLAW FAVOUR, curry favour.

CLOUR, bump.

COGHLING, blowing.

COM., short for COMITATUS = county.

CONCLAMARE VASA, to give the signal for baggage, i.e. for packing
the baggage.

CONGES, bowing and scraping.

CORONACH, lament.

CORRI, hill-side.

COUP, upset.

COUPE-JARRET, cut-throat (literally, leg-chopper).

COUR PLENIERE, full court, state-reception.

COUTEAU DE CHASSE, hunting-knife.

COW YER CRACKS, stop your chatter.

CRAIG, neck.

CREAGH, foray, raid.

CUITTLE, fickle.

CURRAGH, boat,

CURRANT, running.

CUT-LUGGED, crop-eared.


DANS SON TORT, in the wrong.

DE FACTO, in actual fact.

DE JURE, by legal right.

DEAVING, deafening.

DELIVER, active.

DEMELEE, extrication from a hobble.

DEOCH AN DORUIS, stirrup-cup.

DERN, dark.

DIAOUL, devil.

DIAOUL!--CEADE MILLIA MOLLIGHEART, O the devil! a hundred
thousand curses.

DINMONTS, year-old wethers.

DISPONE, assign.

DIVERTISEMENTS, diversions.

DOER, factor, agent.

DOITED, witless.

DOON, down.

DORLACH, valise, portmanteau.

DOVERING, half-asleep.

DOW, dove.

DOWFF, dull.

DUE DONZELLETTE GARRULE, two garrulous damsels.

DUINHE-WASSEL, gentleman.


EARN, eagle.

ELD, age.

ELISOS OCULOS, ET SICCUM SANGUINE GUTTUR, eyes squeezed out of
his head, and throat drained of blood.

EN ATTENDANT, meanwhile.

EN MOUSQUETAIRE, from a soldier's point of view.

EPULAE AD SENATUM, PRANDIUM VERO AD POPULUM ATTINET, for the
senate feasts are befitting, but for the people a simple meal.

EPULAE LAUTIORES, splendid feasts.

EQUIPONDERATE, equivalent.

ET SINGULA PRAEDANTUR ANNI, the passing years rob us of every
thing we possess, one by one.

ETTER-CAP, A venomous person.

EVITE, evade.

EWEST, nearest.

EXEEMED, exempt.


FAIRE LA CUREE, to give the shin, &c., of a killed stag to the
hounds.

FAIRE LA MEILLEURE CHERE, to make good cheer.

FEAL, loyal.

FECK, part.

FENDY, handy.

FEROCIORES IN ASPECTU, MITIORES IN ACTU, fierce in appearance, in
behaviour mild.

FILLE DE CHAMBRE, lady's maid.

FLEMIT, frightened.

FLEYT, scold.

FORIS-FAMILIATED, excluded from the family, out of the
jurisdiction of the head of the family.

FUNGARQUE INANI MUNERE, I shall render a fruitless service.


GABERLUNZIE, beggar.

GAD, bar.

GANE, gone.

GAR, make.

GARCONS APOTHICAIRES, chemists' assistants.

GARDEZ L'EAU, beware of the water.

GARTANED, gartered.

GAUDET EQUIS ET CANIBUS, he finds his pleasure in horses and
dogs.

GAUN, going.

GEAR, goods.

GIMMERS, ewes of two years.

GIN, if.

GLED, hawk.

GLEG, quick.

GLISK, glimpse.

GRANING, groaning.

GRAT, cried; GREET, cry, weep.

GREY-BEARD, jug.

GRICE, young pig.

GRIFFIN, a four-legged dragon.

GRIPPLE, greedy.

GUSTO, taste.


HAEC TIBI ERUNT ARTES, &c.
 'These be your acts; to impose the rule of peace;
  To spare the humbled, crush the arrogant foe.'

HAG, copse.

HAGGIS, a dish composed of the pluck, &c., of a sheep, with
oatmeal, suet, onions, &c., boiled inside the animal's maw.

HAILL, whole.

HALLAN, inner wall.

HANTLE, a lot.

HECK, cattle rack.

HER NAIN SELL, me, myself.

HERSHIP, plunder.

HET, hot.

HIPPOGRIFF, a cross between a horse and a dragon.

HOG, lamb.

HOMAGIUM, the act of homage.

HORNING, outlawry.

HORSE-COUPER, horse-dealer.

HOWE, hollow.

HUMANA PERPESSI SUMUS, we have borne all that man can inflict on
us.

HURDLES, buttocks.


ILK, each; OF THAT ILK, having the same title as the surname.

IMPIGER, IRACUNDUS, INEXORABILIS, ACER, untiring, swift to wrath,
unyielding, keen.

IN CARCERE, in prison.

IN ERGASTULO, in a dungeon (a private prison, as opposed to
INCARCERE).

IN INTEGNUM, in full.

IN LOCO PARENTIS, in the place of a parent.

IN REBUS BELLICIS MAXIME DOMINATUR FORTUNA, in matters of war,
Luck has most to say.

IN SERVITIO EXUENDI, SEU DETRAHENDI. CALIGAS REGIS POST
BATALLIAM, for the service of undoing or pulling off the king's
boots after a battle.

INTROMITTED, interfered with.


JOGUE, jogee, ascetic or conjurer.


KEMPLE, a load of hay (forty 'bottles').

KIPPAGE, rage.

KITTLE, tricky, difficult.

KYLOES, highland cattle.


LA BELLE PASSION, the gentle passion.

LA HOULETTE ET LE CHALLUMEAU, the shepherd's crook and pipe.

LAIRD, (equivalent to) squire.

LAISSEZ FAIRE A DON ANTOINE, Leave that to Don Antonio.

LANG-LEGGIT, long-legged.

LAPIS OFFENSIONIS ET PETRA SCANDALI, a stone of stumbling and a
rock of offence.

LAWING, reckoning.

LE BEAU IDEAL, the perfect conception.

LEGES CONVIVIALES, the rules of the table.

LES COUSTUSMES DE NORMANDIE, C'EST L'HOMME KI SE BAST ET KI
CONSEILLE, [according to] the Norman custom, it is the man who
fights and gives counsel.

LEVY EN MASSE, full muster.

LIBER PATER, Father Liber; an old Italian deity, afterwards
identified with Bacchus.

LIGHTLY, make light of.

LIMMER, hussy, good-for-nothing.

LOON, fellow.

LOUPING-ON STANE, mounting-stone.

LOUR, to frown.

LUCKIE, widow.

LUG, ear.

LUNZIE, wallet.


MA BELLE DEMOISELLE, my fair damsel.

MADAME SON EPOUSE, Madam his wife.

MAILS, rent, dues.

MAIS CELA VIENDRA AVEC LE TEMPS, but that will come with time.

MAIST, most.

MAJOR DOMO, butler, mayor of the house, steward.

MANEGE, the art of training and managing horses.

MART, fatted beasts, slaughtered at Martinmas for winter
provision.

MASK, infuse.

MAUGRE, in spite of.

MAUN, must.

MAUVAISE HONTE, false shame.

MAVORTIA PECTORA, warlike breasts.

MEAL-ARK, meal-tub.

MISGUGGLE, mishandle.

MOLDWARP, mole.

MON COEUR, &c.
 'My heart so light, quo' she,
  My lad, is not for you;
 'Tis for a soldier bold,
  With beard of martial hue.
  Down, down, derrydown.
 'A feather in his hat,
  A red heel on his shoe;
  Who plays upon the flute,
  And on the fiddle too.
  Down, down, derrydown.'

MORNING, morning drink.

MORTIS CAUSA, the cause of death.

MOUSTED, powdered.

MUTEMUS CLYPEOS, &c.
 'Change we our shields, and for
  ourselves assume the trappings
  of the Greeks.'


NEB, nose.

NEBULONES NEQUISSIMI, worthless scamps.

NEC NATURALITER IDIOTA, not a born idiot.

NOLT, cattle.

NUNC INSANUS AMOR, &c.
 'Love's frenzy keeps me still in war's array
  Where bolts fly thick, and foemen compass me.'

NUNCUPATIVE, legally valid nomination of an heir.


OBSIDIONAL CROWN, the reward of a commander who delivered a town
from siege; here used erroneously for the reward of the soldier
who first entered a besieged city.

ORRA, odd; ORRA MAN, the man who does the odd jobs.

OUTRECUIDANCE, presumption.

O VOUS QUI BUVEZ, &c.
 'O you, who drink from flagons full,
  From out this happy fountain cool,
  Here where, upon the banks, you see
  Only the flocks of silly sheep,
  With rustic maids for company,
  Who bare of foot their wardship keep.'

OYER AND TERMINER, to hear and determine (legal, from Norman
terminology).


PAITRICK, partridge.

PALINODE, recantation.

PANGED, crammed.

PAUNIE, peacock.

PEACHED, informed against, betrayed.

PECULIUM, property.

PENETRALIA, interior.

PER CONJURATIONEM, on oath.

PHILABEG, kilt.

PHRENESIAC, frenzied.

PINNERS, cap with lappets.

PIS-ALLER, an inferior article which will do to go on with.

PLACK, halfpenny.

PLEADER, barrister.

PLOY, employment, or fuss.

POCULUM POTATORIUM, drinking-cup.

POWTERING, rummaging.

PRANDIUM, a meal.

PRETTY, athletic.

PRIMAE NOTAE, of the first quality.

PRINCEPS, chieftain.

PROCUL A PATRIAE FINIBUS, far from the borders of your own land.

PROCUL DUBIO, without doubt.

PRONER, praise up.

PROPONE, propose.

PROSAPIA, ancestry.

PUER (JUVENIS) BONAE SPEI ET MAGNAE INDOLIS, a youth of promising
future and of high character.


QUANTUM SUFFICIT, as much as is needed, enough.

QUASI BEARWARDEN, in the capacity of Bearwarden.

QU'IL CONNOIT BIEN SES GENS, that he knows well with whom he has
to deal.

QUEAN, girl.

QUODLIBETS, subtleties.


RAMPANT, erect on the hind legs.

RECEPTO AMICO, when a friend is present.

RECTUS IN CURIA, cleared before the law,

REDD, put in order.

REIFS, robberies.

REISES, brushwood.

RESILING, drawing back.

RINTHEROUT, rapscallion.

RISU SOLVUNTUR TABULAE, the prosecution is laughed out of court.

ROKELAY, short cloak.

ROYNISH, scurvy.

RUNT, an old cow.

RUSE DE GUERRE, military stratagem.


SACRAMENTUM MILITARE, soldiers' oath of allegiance.

SAGESSE, discretion.

SALIENT, in the act of leaping.

SANCTUM SANCTORUM, lit. 'holy of holies'; a specially private
retreat or study.

SANS TACHE, without stain.

SARKS, shirts.

SCARTED, scratched,

SCHELLUM, scamp.

SCOUPING, scampering.

SENNACHIES, Highland genealogists.

SERVABIT ODOREM TESTA DIU, the pot will keep the smell for a long
time.

SHEMUS BEG, little James.

SHIBBOLETH, a pass-word (Judges xii, 6).

SHILPIT, thin.

SICCAN, such.

SIDIER ROY, red-coated soldiers.

SILLER, silver.

SKENE, small dirk or dagger.

SMOKY, suspicious.

SONSIE, sensible.

SOPITE, allay.

SORNER, a person who lives on his neighbours.

SOWENS, porridge or gruel.

SPEIRINGS, askings, = information.

SPENCE, best room.

SPES ALTERA, another hope.

SPLEUCHAN, pocket.

SPRACK, spruce.

SPRECHERY, cattle-lifting.

SPUILZIE, spoil (cf. BRUILZIE = broil).

STEADINGS, farms.

STIEVE, stiff.

STIRK, a year-old heifer or bullock.

STOOR, austere.

STOT, bull.

STOUP, mug, flagon.

STOUTHREIF, robbery with violence.

STRAE, straw.

STRATH, a valley.

STRATHSPEY, a Scottish dance.

STREEK, lie down.

SUI JURIS, of his own right.

SUUM CUIQUE, to each his due.

SYBOES, onions or radishes.


TACKSMAN, tenant.

TAIGLIT, slow, tired.

TAILLIE, covenant, bond.

TAISHATR, a person who has second-sight.

TANDEM TRIUMPHANS, triumphant in the end.

TANQUAM PRIVATUS, in my private capacity.

TAPPIT-HEN, a pewter-pot, holding nearly a gallon.

TENTAMINA, experiments.

TESTAMENTUM MILITARE, will made on the field of battle.

THIR, those.

THRAW, twist.

THREEPIT, declared.

TIGHEARNA, chief.

TIL, to; INTIL, into; UNTIL, unto.

TINCHEL, circle of beaters for driving game.

TOCHER, dowry; TOCHERLESS, dowerless.

TOTO COELO, as widely as may be.

TOUN, collection of houses,

TRACASSERIE, annoyance.

TREWS, tartan trousers.

TRINDLING, trundling.

TROISIEME ETAGE, third floor.

TROT-COZY, riding-hood.

TUILZIE, scrimmage.


UMWHILE, sometime, late.

UN PETIT PENDEMENT BIEN JOLI, a very pretty little hanging.

UNCO, very.

UNSONSY, senseless, or uncanny.

UNTIL, unto.

USQUEBAUGH, whiskey.


VILIPENDED, slandered.

VINUM LOCUTUM EST, it was the wine that spoke.

VINUM PRIMAE NOTAE, wine of the first quality.

VITA ADHUC DURANTE, as long as life lasts.

VIVERS, victuals.

VIX EA NOSTRA VOCO, I scarcely call these things my own.


WADSET, pledge.

WANCHANCY, unchancy unlucky. ill-omened.

WAPPEN, brief.

WARE, spend, bestow.

WA'S, walls.

WEEL-FAR'D, well-favoured.

WEISING, aiming.

WHEEN, WHIN, few.

WHILK, which.

WHINGEING, whining.

WYVERN, two-legged dragon.