 CHAPTER IV Castle Building I have already hinted that the dainty, squeamish and fastidious taste acquired by a surfeit of idle reading had not only rendered our hero unfit for serious and sober study, but had even disgusted him in some degree with that in which he had hitherto indulged. He was in his sixteenth year when his habits of abstraction and love of solitude became so much marked as to excite Sir Everard's affectionate apprehension. He tried to counterbalance these 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 neighborhood 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his seat in Parliament, and as his age increased and the number of his contemporaries diminished, had gradually withdrawn himself from society, so that when, upon any particular occasion, Edward mingled with accomplished and well-educated young men of his own rank and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 into a range that which he possessed. A deep and increasing sensibility added to this dislike of society. The idea of having committed the slightest solosism and 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 Waverly 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 very curious and minute facts which could have been preserved and conveyed through no other medium. If therefore Edward Waverly yoned 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 Waverly honor and the dowdy barons, knights, and squires to whom they stood allied, if notwithstanding his obligations to the three ermans-pasant, 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 Willebert of Waverly in the holy land, his long absence in perilous adventures, his supposed death, and his return on 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 neighboring cloister that peace which passes not away. There is a family legend to this purpose belonging to the nightly family of Bradshaw, the proprietors of High Hall in Lancashire, where, I have been told, the event is recorded on a painted glass window. The German ballad of the noble mooranger 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. And footnote. 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 Waverly 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 Wooster, found a day's refuge at Waverly on her, 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. Would 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 defense was attained. Ah, I remember, she continued, I remember well to have seen one that knew and loved him. Miss Lucy St. Albain 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 can't 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 waverly honor once more, and visited all the places where she had been with my granduncle, 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 somber 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 musor. Then arose in long and fair array the splendor of the bridal feast at Waverly 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 Willebert 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 forever 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 Waverly seated in her bower, her ear strained to every sound, her heart throbbing with double agony, now listening to the decaying echo of the hooves 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 Waverly 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, coarsed with greyhounds, or to gain an aim at him with the crossbow. In one spot, distinguished by a mosque-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 favorite haunt of Waverly. At other times, with his gun in 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 path called Merckwood Dingle, and opened suddenly upon a deep, dark, and small lake named from the same cause Merckwood Mir. 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 Waverly, 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 Waverly, 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, called 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 PERFESSION From the minuteness with which I have traced Waverly'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 in justice 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 judgment which apprehends occurrences indeed in their reality, but communicates to them a tincture of its own romantic tone and coloring. So far was Edward Waverly 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 refer 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 own 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 abdominal finery at the parish church of Waverly was neither numerous nor select. By far the most passable was Miss Sisley, 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 pre-pence, or whether it was from a conformity of taste that Miss Cecilia more than once crossed Edward in his favorite walks through Waverly 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 jeweler and dervish in the oriental tale, footnote, seahop nurse tale of the seven lovers, and footnote, 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 Waverly 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 Waverly honor. 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 Saint Stephen's echo to longer orations than were comprised in those zealous nose, with which when a member of the house during Gadolphin's administration, he encountered every measure of government. Aunt Rachel's anxiety, however, lent her a dress 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 Waverly honor, 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 Waverly, 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 Sir Edward Waverly'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. Waverly to consider. This he could himself say, that he knew his majesty had such a just sense of Mr. Richard Waverly'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 Waverly, 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 preparations for joining his regiment. To his brother, Richard was more diffuse and circuitous. He coincided with him in the most flattering manner in the propriety of his son 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 dame to inquire whether young Waverly 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 force. 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 Cornette and Lieutenant being overleapt with great agility, Captain Waverly of Gardner's Regiment of Dragoons, which he must join in their quarters at Dundee in Scotland in the course of a month. Sir Everard Waverly 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 Waverly chased by moonlight, and of cases of carbines and pistols purchased in Holland and addressed to the baronet, but intercepted by the vigilance of a writing officer of the excise, who was afterwards tossed in a blanket on a moonless night by an association of stout yeoman 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 nightgown. But there was no overt act which an attender could be founded on, and government, contented with suppressing the insurrection of 1715, felt it neither prudent nor safe to push their vengeance farther than against those unfortunate gentlemen who actually took off arms. Nor did Sir Everard's apprehensions of personal consequences seem to correspond with the reports spread among his Whig neighbors. It was well known that he had supplied with money several of the distressed North Umbrians and Scotchmen, who after being made prisoners at Preston and Lancashire, were imprisoned in Newgate and the Marshall Sea, and it was his solicitor and ordinary council who conducted the defense 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 poos and pashas which were placed to the account of an incipent 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, Mordons, Grandvilles, and Stanleys, whose names were to be found in that military record. And, calling up all his feelings of family grandeur and war-like glory, he concluded, with logic something like foul-staffs, that when a 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 Waverly himself received with animated and undefined surprise this most unexpected intelligence. It was, as a final poem expresses it, like a fire to Heather's 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, favorite texts, and portions from high church divines and a few songs Amatory and Jacobitical which she had caroled in her younger days, from which her nephew's poetical tentamina were extracted when the volume itself, with other authentic records of the Waverly 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 Mir's romantic dell, the lake returned in chastened gleam the purple cloud, the golden beam, reflected in the crystal pool, headland and bank lay fair and cool. The weather tinted rock and tower, each drooping tree, each fairy flower, so true, so soft the mirror gave, as if they're lay beneath the wave, secure from trouble, toil and care, a world then 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 began to shake his foamy crest or furrowed and blackened cheek, and bade his surge in thunder speak. In wild and broken eddy's world, flitted that fond ideal world, and to the shore in tumult tossed, the realms of fairy bliss were lost. Yet, with a stern delight and strange, I saw the spirit stirring change, as ward 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 trink will see 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 ladies' charms give place to honor and to arms. In sober prose, as perhaps these verses intimate less decidedly, the transient idea of Miss Cecilia Stubbs passed from Captain Waverly's heart amid the turmoil which his new destinies excited. She appeared indeed in full splendor in her father's pew upon the Sunday when he attended service for the last time at the Old Paris Church, upon which occasion, at the request of his uncle and aunt Rachel, he was induced, nothing both 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, poop, 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 honor bend. 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 Culbert field, 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 piece au lait, and gave her hand at the distance of six months to the aforesaid Jonas, son of the Baronet's steward, and ere, no unfertile prospect, to a steward's fortune, besides the snug probability of succeeding to his father's office. All these advantages moved squire's stubs, as much as the ruddy brown 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 a scans upon the presumptuous damsel, as much so per adventure as her nature would permit. But who, on the first appearance of the new married parrot church, honored 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 waverly come beaverly. 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 wig 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 hypocrites, or moved by enchantment. Mine is a humble English post-chase, 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 Hussain's tapestry, or malloc 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, slews, 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 inclined to have some patience with me during my first stages. Footnote. 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 retrench or cancel. End Footnote. End of Section 10. Section 11 of Waverly, Volume 1. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Waverly, or to sixty years since Volume 1, by Sir Walter Scott. 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 perfusion of curled hair and the busephalus which he bestowed, 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 Waverly. 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 honor will permit avoid danger, I mean unnecessary danger, and keep no company with rakes, gamblers, and wigs 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, to 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 du jour, the night 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 color, superb chargers both, the other three were stout, active hecks, 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, quote 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 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 flak silk according to ancient form, and sealed with an accurate impression of the Waverly coat of arms. It was addressed, with great formality, to Cosmo Comine Brandwardine Esquire of Brandwardine at his principal mansion of Tauley v. Olan in Perthshire, North Britain, these by the hands of Captain Edward Waverly, nephew of Sir Everard Waverly, of Waverly 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 Scotsman, 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 tightest livious, which he had forgotten in the hurry of his escape. And footnote three tells us, this 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 favorite tightest livious. 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. And back to the text, the simplicity of this anecdote struck the gentleman, who, as we before observed, had managed the defense 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 Patavenian, and though probably his own zeal might not have carried him to such extravagant lengths, even to recover the addition of Swenheim and Panards, supposed to be the precepts, he did not the less estimate the devotion of the North Britain, and in consequence exerted himself to so much purpose to remove and soften evidence, detect legal flaws, etc., that he accomplished the final discharge and deliverance of Cosmo-Coming-Brenwardine from certain very awkward consequences of a plea before our sovereign Lord the King in Westminster. The baron of Broadwardine, for he was generally so-called in Scotland, although his intimates from his place of residence, used to denominate him Tolly-Vaelan, or, more familiarly, Tolly, no sooner stood rectus and curia than he posted down to pay his respects and make his acknowledgments at waverly 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 waverly honour, the baron departed with many expressions of regard, warmly pressing the baronet to return his visit, and partake of the diversion of grouse-hunting upon his morts in Perchshire next season. Shortly after, Mr. Broadwardine remitted from Scotland to some 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 Scottish pounds, shillings, and pens, such a formidable effect upon the frame of Duncan MacWebel, the Laird's confidential factor, baron Bailey and man of resource, that he had a fit of 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 Bailey MacWebel 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 the Broadwardine State, a fund which he considered as more particularly his own. But the Bailey protested, he was absolutely disinterested, whoa, whoa, for Scotland, not a witt for me. The Laird was only rejoiced that his worthy friend Sir Everard of Waverly Honour was reimbursed of the expenditure which he had outlaid on account of the House of Broadwardine. It concerned, he said, the credit of his own family of the Kingdom of Scotland at large, that these disbursements should be repaid forthwith, and if delayed, it would be a matter of national reproach. Sir Everard, accustomed to treat much larger sums within difference, received the remittance of two hundred and ninety-four pounds, thirteen shillings, and six pence, without being aware that the payment was an international concern, and indeed would probably have forgotten the circumstance altogether if Bailey McWeable 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 Waverly Honour and Tolly Vialon, 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 asquabah, 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 Waverly Honour could not, with propriety, visit Scotland without being furnished with credentials to the baron of Broadwardine. 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 to the principles of the Christian religion, and to eschew the profane company of scoffers and latitudinarians, too much of bounding 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, Sandcroft, and his brethren. There was a liturgy, though woefully perverted in some of the principal petitions. But in Scotland, it was utter darkness. And, accepting a sorrowful, scattered and persecuted remnant, the pulpits were abandoned to Presbyterians, and he feared to sectories of every description. It should be his duty to fortify his dear pupil to resist such unhollowed and pernicious doctrines in church and state as much 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 on 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. Pemberk had uttered the shibboleth, with the appropriate gesture, the bibliopolis 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, hey, Doctor Welle, all under the rose, snug! I keep knoll-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 word the king of France, or, perhaps you are more lately of 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, eeked 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 Descent from Descenters, or The Comprehension Confuted, showing the impossibility of any composition between the church and Puritans, Presbyterians, or Sectories 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. Beg 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 is some sense in this. Pages so many, papers so much, letterpress, I'll tell you, though, doctor, you must knock out some of the Latin and Greek. Heavy, doctor, damned heavy, beg your pardon. And if you throw in a few grains more pepper, I am he that never preached my author. I have published for Drake and Charles Woodlotton and poor Amherst, and we have a footnote on Amherst. Amherst, a noted political writer who conducted for many years a paper called The Craftsman under the assumed name of Caleb Danvers, was devoted to the Tory interest and seconded with much ability the attacks of Pultainy on Sir Robert Walpole. He died in 1742, neglected by his great patrons and in the most miserable circumstances. And we have a quote from Lord Chesterfield's characters reviewed regarding Amherst. Amherst survived the downfall of the Walpole's power and had a reason to expect a reward for his labours. If we excuse bowling broke, who had only saved the shipwreck of his fortunes, we shall be at a loss to justify Pultainy, who could with ease have given this man a considerable income. The utmost of his generosity to Amherst that I ever heard of was a hog's head of claret. He died, it is supposed, of a broken heart, and was buried at the charge of his honest printer, Richard Franklin. And that notice from Lord Chesterfield's characters reviewed, page 42. And now back to the text. Ah, Caleb, Caleb! Well, it was a shame to let poor Caleb starve, and so many fat rectors and squires among us. I give him a dinner once a week, but Lord love you once a week when a man does not know where to go the other six days. Well, I must but 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 last time I mounted an old palace yard. All wigs and round heads 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 a family. But to show my zeal I'll recommend the job to my neighbor, Tom 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 waverly honor with his treatise and vindication of the real fundamental principles of church and state safely packed in his saddlebags. 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 Waverly, 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 of only to dread his reproaches for so long concealing the light which the perusal will flash upon his mind. But while he thus indulged in the reveries of an author and a politician, his darling proselyte, seeing nothing very inviting in the title of the tracks and appalled by the bulk and compact lines of the manuscript, quietly consigned them to a corner of his traveling trunk. And 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 wigs and presbyterians except the Highlanders, and respecting them, she must need say, there could be no great delicacy among the ladies, where the gentleman'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 were also 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 waverly 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 sargencies and corporal ships, and so forth, on the part of those who professed that they never thought to have seen Jacob and Giles and Jonathan go off for soldiers, save to attend a zonah 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 traveling, to Edinburgh, and from thence to Dundee, a seaport on the eastern coast of Angusshire, where his regiment was then quartered. He now entered upon a new world, where for a time all was beautiful because all was new. Colonel Gardner, 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 in fidelity, to a serious and even enthusiastic turn of mind. It was whispered that a supernatural communication of an nature obvious, even to the exterior senses, had produced this wonderful change, and though some mentioned the prosolite as an enthusiast, none hinted at his being a hypocrite. The singular and mystical circumstance gave Colonel Gardner a peculiar and solemn interest in the eyes of the young soldier. It may be easily imagined that the officers of a regiment commanded by so respectable a person composed a society more sedate and orderly than a military mess always exhibits, and that Waverly 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 art of the ménage, which when carried to perfection almost realized 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 ardor 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 vits of absence, in which his blunders excited some mirth and called down some reproof. This circumstance impressed him with a painful sense of inferiority and 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. Waverly was naturally modest and therefore did not fall into the egregious mistake of supposing such minute or rules of military duty beneath his notice or conceding 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 neighborhood were disaffected and showed little hospitality to military guests, and the people of the town, chiefly engaged in mercantile pursuits, were not such as Waverly 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 traveled, of course, on horseback and with a single attendant and past his first night and 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. The next day, traversing an open and unenclosed country, Edward gradually approached the highlands of Pristure, 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 the stupendous barrier, but still in the lowland country, dwelt Cosmo Comine Bradwardine, of Bradwardine, and if Gray-Herod Eld can be an ought-believed, there had dwelt his ancestors with all their heritage since the days of the gracious King Duncan. I have now given in the text the full name of this gallant an excellent man and proceeded to copy the account of his remarkable conversion as related by Dr. Dodridge. 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 portman too. 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, O 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 armchair 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 Savior 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 a 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 Gardner 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, page 190. Note 6. The courtesy of an invitation to partake a traveler'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. An requital-mind host was always furnished with the news of the country, and was probably a little of a humorous to boot. The devolution of the whole actual business and drudgery of the inn upon the poor good wife was very common among the Scottish Bonifaces. There was an 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 someone who inquired after his wife that the poor woman was trying to save a parcel of crockery and some trempary 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 parlay with mine host, who often resembled in his quaint humor, mine host of the Gartner in the Mary Wives of Windsor, or Blague of the George in the Mary Devil of Edmonton. Sometimes a 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 caravansery 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 set in passing, none of the reverent party were reckoned powerful in the pulpit. After dinner was over, the worthy senior, in the pride of his heart, asked Mrs. Buchan whether she ever had such a party in her house before. Here sit I, he said. A placed minister of the Kirk of Scotland, and here sit my three sons, each a placed minister of the same Kirk. Confess, lucky 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 I ever 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 a deal of spring they could play among them. End of Section 12. Recording by Stacey Cologne, Fort Worth, Texas. Section 13 of Waverly, Volume 1. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Waverly, or to 60 years since. Volume 1, Vicer Walter Scott. Section 13. Chapter 8. A Scottish Manor House, 60 years since. It was about noon when Captain Waverly entered the straggling village, or rather Hamlet, of Tuley Valon, 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 a straggling kind of unpaved street, where children, almost in a primitive state of nakedness, lay sprawling as if to be crushed by the hoofs of the first passing horse. Occasionally, indeed, when such a consummation seemed inevitable, a watchful old grandam with her close cap, disc staff, and spindle, rushed like a symbol 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 varlots 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 curves, which followed snarling, barking, howling, and snapping at the horse's heels, a nuisance at the time so common in Scotland that a French tourist, who like other travelers, long 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 curves called Collies, whose duty it was to chase the chevaux de poste, too starved and exhausted to move without such stimulus, from one hamlet to another till their annoying convoy drove them to the end of their stage. The evil unremedy, such as it is, still exists, 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 Waverly moved on, here and there an old man, bent as much by toil as ears, his eyes bleared with age and smoke, taught her 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 neighbors in a little group at the smithy, to discuss the probabilities of once the stranger came and where he might be going. Three or four village girls returning from the well, or brook, with pictures and pales 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 in dress considerably improved by a plentiful application of spring water, with a quantum suffocate 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 idol, seemed of a lifseless cast in the village of Tulli Bailon. The curse 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, nigger 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 in 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 in manner of life and interest. It seemed upon the whole as if poverty and indolence, its two frequent companion, were combining to depress the natural genius and acquired information of a hardy intelligent and reflecting peasantry. Such thoughts crossed Waverly's mind as he paced his horse slowly through the rugged and flinty streets of Tulli Bailon. Interrupted only in his meditations by the occasional caprioles which his charger exhibited at the reiterated assault 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 kohlwort 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 leveled, 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 Tule Veolon were intersected by a narrow lane leading to the common field, where the joint labor 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 favorite 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 Tule Veolon, being certain square fields surrounded and divided by stone walls five feet in height. In the center 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 heights and nourished so luxuriously that their bows 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 verger, accepting where a footpath worn by occasional passengers, tracked with the 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 of 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 bowels of the shady arc that vaulted the broad green alley. The solitude and repose of the whole scene seemed almost monastic, and Waverly, 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 idea 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 bartissons, and displayed at each frequent angle a small turret rather resembling a pepper box than a gothic watchtower. Neither did the front indicate absolute security from danger. There were loopholes for musketry, and iron stentions on the lower windows, probably to repel any roving band of gypsies, or resist a predatory visit from the catterns 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 Scroom observed, rather a prison for murderers and lancers and such, like as were tried at sizes, than a place for any Christian cattle. Above these dungeon looking stables were granaries called gurnals, and other offices to which there was access by outside stairs of heavy masonry. Two battle-minted walls, one of which faced the avenue, and the other divided the court from the garden, completed the enclosure. Nor was a court without its ornaments, and one corner was a ton bellied pigeon-house of great size and redundancy, 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 dove-cott or a columbarium, as the owner called it, was no small resource to a Scottish lair 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 the 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 gables, terminated the spouts, and supported the turrets with the ancient family motto, beware the bear, 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 Waverly had conjured up. And here we beg permission to close a chapter of still life. Footnote. C. Note. Seven. Note. Seven. There is no particular mansion described under the name of Tully Bail Lawn, but the peculiarities of the description occur in various old Scottish seats. The House of Warrander upon Bruntzville Blinks, and that of old Ravellston belonging the former to Sir George Warrander, 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 Bail Lawn. The author has, however, been informed that the House of Grand Tully resembles that of the Baron of Bradwardine still more than any of the above. End of Section 13. Recording by Stacey Cologne, Fort Worth, Texas. Section 14 of Waverly Volume 1. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Waverly or to 60 years since Volume 1 by Sir Walter Scott. Section 14. Chapter 9. More of the Manor House and its environs. After having satisfied his curiosity by gazing around him for a few minutes, Waverly 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 peel 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 curves which had retired to sleep upon their respective dung hills. Tired of the din which he created and the unprofitable responses which it excited, Waverly began to think that he had reached the castle of Orgoglio as entered by the victorious Prince Arthur. When Ganhee loudly threw 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 white 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. Footnote, at Ravelston may be seen such a garden, which the taste of the proprietor, the author's friend and kinsman, Sir Alexander Keith Knight Marashal, has judiciously preserved. That as well as the house is, however, of smaller dimensions than the barren of Bradwardine's mansion and garden are presumed to have been. And footnote, 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 graveled, partly bordered with flowers and choice shrubs. This elevation descended by three several flights of steps, placed in its center 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 favorite 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 its head and forepaws 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 huge brook, which had a tranquil and smooth appearance, where it served as a boundary to the garden. But near the extremity leapt in tumult over a strong dam or wear-head, the cause of its temporary tranquility, and there forming a cascade was overlooked by an octangular summer house with a gilded bear on the top by way of vein. After this feat, the brook, assuming its natural rapid and fierce character, escaped from the eye down a deep and wooded dell, from the cops 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 how, as it is 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 Alsina, yet wanted not the du donzile carrule 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 Armira, remained 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 "'Ey, sirs!' uttered with an accent between modesty and coquetry, sprung off like deer in different directions. Waverly began to despair of gaining entrance into the 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 describe its features, he was struck with the oddity of its appearance and gestures. Sometimes this Mr. White held his hands clasped over his head like an Indian joke 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 gray jerkin with scarlet cuffs and slashed sleeves, showing a scarlet lining. The other parts of the dress corresponded in color, 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 mean 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 sung with great earnestness and not without some taste a fragment of an old Scottish ditty. False love and hast thou played me this, in summer among the flowers, I will repay thee back again in winter among the showers. Unless again, again my love, unless you turn again, as you with other maidens rove, I'll smile on other men. Footnote. This is a genuine ancient fragment with some alteration in the last two lines, and footnote. Here, lifting up his eyes, which had hitherto been fixed in observing how his feet kept time to the tune, he beheld waverly and instantly doft 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 knights to the mountain his bugle to wind, the ladies to Greenwood, her garland to bind. The bower of Bird 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 hasten peculiarity of the dialect, the word butler was alone intelligible. Waverly then requested to see the butler, upon which the fellow, with a knowing look and not 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 ruinish clowns. I am not overprudent 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 partera flowers, shrouded from the east and north by a close ewe 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 ruffled shirt belonging to the former profession, his hail and sunburned 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, may as chief minister of the interior, superior even to Bailey McWeeble 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 waverly 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 honor would have exceeding pleasure in seeing him, would not Mr. Waverly choose some refreshment after his journey? His honor was with the folk who were getting dune the dark hag. The tois gardener lads, an emphasis on the word tois, had been ordered to attend him, and he had been just amusing himself in the meantime with dressing Ms. Rose's flower bed that he might be near to receive his honor's orders if need were. He was very fond of a garden, but had little time for such divertisements. He cannot get it wrought in a bontua 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 Gallotly in a tone which admitted no discussion to look for his honor at the dark hag, and tell him there was a gentleman from the south had arrived at the haw. Can this poor fellow deliver a letter? asked Edward. With all fidelity, sir, to anyone whom he respects, I would hardly trust him with a long message by word of mouth, though he is more naïve than fool. Waverly delivered his credentials to Mr. Gallotly 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 a grotesque face on the bowl of a German tobacco pipe, after which, with an odd conjet to Waverly, 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 been. Footnote C. Note 8 and Footnote He used to work a day's turn-wheel enough, but he helped Miss Rose when she was Flemish with the lair of Killen Currant's new English Bowl, and since that time we call him Davy do little. Indeed, we might call him Davy do nothing, for since he got that gay clothing to please his honor in my young mistress, great folks will have their fancies. He has done nothing but dance up and down about the town without doing a single turn unless trimming the lair's fishing wand or busking his flies or maybe catching a dish of trouts at an aura time. But here comes Miss Rose, who, I take burden upon me for her, will be a special glad to see one of the house of Waverly at her father's mansion of Tully Bayolan. 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 Waverly learned two things from this colloquy, that in Scotland a single house was called a town and a natural fool and innocent. Note 8 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 Pierce. In Scotland the custom subsisted till late in the last century. At Glamis Castle is preserved the dress of one of the gestures very handsome and ornamented with many bells. It is not above 30 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 bands betwixt her and himself in the public church. End of note 8 End of section 14 Section 15 of Waverly Volume 1 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Waverly or to 60 years since Volume 1 by Sir Walter Scott Section 15 Chapter 10 Rose Bradward Dine and Her Father Miss Bradward Dine was but 17 yet at the last races of the county town of upon her health being proposed among a round of beauties the laird of Bumper Quay permanent toastmaster and croupier of the Bouter Willery Club not only said more to the pledge in a pint bumper of Bordeaux but air pouring forth the libation denominated the divinity to whom it was dedicated the Rose of Tully Violin upon which festive occasion three chairs 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 highest state and well-tering I will carry the parody no further uttered diverse inarticulate sounds intimidating their assent to the motion. Such unanimous applause could not be extorted but by acknowledged merit and Rose Bradward Dine not only deserved it but also the approbation of much more rational persons than the Bouter Willery 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 pale 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 Waverly with a manner that hovered between bashfulness and courtesy. The first greetings passed 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 copes which was to be found that day. She offered with diffidence 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 Galatley now appeared on hospitable thoughts intent clearing the ground at a prodigious rate with swift and long strides which reminded Waverly of the seven league boots of the nursery fable. He was a tall, thin, athletic figure old indeed and gray haired but with every muscle rendered as tough as whip cord by constant exercise. He was dressed carelessly and more like a Frenchman than an Englishman of the period while from his hard features and perpendicular rigidity of stature he bore some resemblance to a Swiss officer of the guards who had resided some time at Paris and cut 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 traveled with high reputation for several years and made some campaigns in foreign service. After his demolay 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 pendantry of the lawyer super induced upon the military pride of the soldier might remind a modern of the days of the zealous volunteer service when the bar gone of our pleaders was often flung over a blazing uniform. To this must be added the prejudices of ancient birth and Jacobite politics greatly strengthened by habits of solitary and secluded authority which though exercised only within the bounds of his half-cultivated estate was there 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 I come liberale protest habendi curious a justicas cum fossa a firca lie pit and gallows et saca et soca et thol et theme et infan thief et outfang thief sieve hand habend sieve back bar end. The particular 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 I however the present possessor of this authority was more pleased in talking about prerogative than in exercising it and accepting 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 jugues or Scottish pillory for saying there were mere fools in the lairds ha house than David Galatley 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 Waverly 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 Bradward Dines demeanor for the tears stood in the old gentleman's eyes when having first shaken Edward Hardley by the hand in the English fashion he embraced him a la mode Francois 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 honor of a gentleman he said but it makes me young again to see you here Mr. Waverly a worthy scion of the old stock of Waverly honor Spays Altera as Maro Hathet and you have the look of the old line Captain Waverly not so portly yet as my old friends Sir Everard Macella Viendra avec Le Tem as my Dutch acquaintance Baron Kit Kitbruck said of the sagas of Madame Saint-Espose and so you have mounted the cockade right right though I could have wished the color different and so I would had deemed my Sir Everard but no more of that I am old and times are changed and how does the worthy knight Baronette and the fair Mrs. Rachel ah ye laugh young man in truth she was the fair Mrs. Rachel in the year of grace 1716 but time passes a singular pre-denture ani that is most certain but once again you are most hardly welcome to my poor house of Tully Violin hi to the house Rose and see that Alexander Saundersen looks out the old Chateau Margaux which I sent from Bordeaux to Dundee in the year 1713 Rose tripped off demerly enough till she turned the first corner 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 Waverly or give you the epilé Latiori's of Waverly Honour I say epilé rather than prandium because the latter phrase is popular epilé add senatum prandium vero add populam says Suetonius Tranquilis but I trust you will applaud my Bordeaux se dédu oriel as Captain Vincel used to say venum primae note the principle of Saint Andrew dominated it and once more Captain Waverly write glad am I that you are here to drink the best micellar 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 coarselets 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 parlor wainscotted with black oak and hung round with the pictures of his ancestry where a table was set forth informed for six persons and an old-fashioned buffet displayed all the ancient and massive plate of the Bradward Dine 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 Waverly'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 Belmawapple a falconer by surname of the house of Glen Farquhar given right much to field sports Gaudet Eccas A. Cannabis but a very discreet young gentleman then there was the laird of Kilinkirite who had devoted his leisure until tillage and agriculture and boasted himself to be possessed of a bull of matchless merit brought from the county of Devon the demonia of the Romans if we can trust Robert of Syrinchester he is as you may well suppose from such a tendency but of yeoman extraction serve a bit odorum test adieu and I believe between ourselves his grand sire was from the wrong side of the border one bull's egg who came hither as a steward or bailiff or ground officer or something in that department to the last genigo of Kilinkirite who died of an atrophy after his master's death sir he would hardly believe such a scandal but this bull's egg 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 umwile husband in direct contravention of an unrecorded tally and to the prejudice of the disposer's own flesh and blood in the person of his natural heir and seventh cousin genigo of tipper hewitt whose family was so reduced by the ensuing lawsuit that his representative is now serving as a private gentleman sentinel in the Highland Blackwatch but this gentleman Mr. Bull's egg of Kilinkirite that now is has good blood in his veins by the mother and grandmother who were both of the family of Piclotillin and he is well liked and looked upon and knows his own place and God forbid Captain Waverly that we of irreproachable lineage should exalt 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 The Ia Nostra Volko as Nezo Seyeth there is besides a clergyman of the true though suffering Episcopal Church of Scotland footnote C Note 9 he was a confessor in her cause after the year 1715 when a Wiggish mob destroyed his meeting house tourist supplies and plundered his dwelling house of four silver spoons intramitting also with his mart and his meal arc and with two barrels one of single and one of double ale besides three bottles of brandy My Baron Bailey Endure Mr. Duncan McWeebel is the fourth on our list there is a question owing to the insertitude of ancient orthography whether he belongs to the clan of Weedle or of Quibble but both have produced persons eminent in law As such he described them by person and name they entered and dinner was served as they came Note 9 after the revolution of 1688 and on some occasions when the spirit of the Presbyterians had been unusually animated against their opponents the Episcopal clergyman who were chiefly non-jewers were exposed to be mobbed as we should now say or rabble 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 End of section 15