a WAVERLEY NOVELS. issuing from between precipices, like a maniac from his confinement, all foam and uproar. It was up the course of this last stream that Waverley, like a knight of romance, was conducted by the fair Highland damsel, his silent guide. A small path, which had been rendered easy in many places for Flora's accommodation, led him through scenery of a very different description from that which he had just quitted. Around the castle, all was cold, bare, and desolate, yet tame even in desolation; but this narrow glen, at so short a distance, seemed to open into the land of romance. The rocks assumed a thousand peculiar and varied forms. In one place, a crag of huge size presented its gigantic bulk, as if to forbid the passenger's farther progress; and it was not until he approached its very base, that Waverley discerned the sudden and acute turn by which the pathway wheeled its course around this formidable obstacle. In another spot, the projecting rocks from the opposite sides of the chasm had approached so near to each other, that two pine-trees laid across, and covered with turf, formed a rustic bridge at the height of at least one hundred and fifty feet. It had no ledges, and was barely three feet in breadth. While gazing at this pass of peril, which crossed, like a single black line, the small portion of blue sky not intercepted by the projecting rocks on either side, it was with a sensation of horror that Waverley beheld Flora and her attendant appear, like inhabitants of another region, propped, as it were, in mid air, upon this trembling structure. She stopped upon observing him below, and, with an air of graceful ease, which made him shudder, waved her handkerchief to him by way of signal. He was unable, from the sense of dizziness which her situation conveyed, to return the salute; and was never more relieved than when the fair apparition passed on from the precarious eminence which she seemed to occupy with so much indifference, and disappeared on the other side. Still Advancing a few yards, and passing under the bridge which he had viewed with so much terror, the path ascended rapidly from the edge of the brook, and the glen widened into a silvan amphitheatre, waving with birch, young oaks, and hazels, with here and there a scattered yew-tree. The rocks now receded, but still showed their grey and shaggy crests rising among the copse-wood. higher, rose eminences and peaks, some bare, some clothed with wood, some round and purple with heath, and others splintered into rocks and crags. At a short turning, the path, which had for some furlongs lost sight of the brook, suddenly placed It was Waverley in front of a romantic waterfall. not so remarkable either for great height or quantity of water, as for the beautiful accompaniments which made the spot interesting. After a broken cataract of about twenty feet, the stream was received in a large natural basin filled to the brim with water, which, where the bubbles of the fall subsided, was so exquisitely clear, that although it was of great depth, the eye could discern each pebble at the bottom. Eddying round this reservoir, thebrook found its way over a broken part of the ledge, and formed a second fall, which seemed to seek the very abyss; then, wheeling out beneath from among the smooth dark rocks, which it had polished for ages, it wandered murmuring down the glen, forming the stream up which Waverley had 72 servoir corresponded in beauty; but it was beauty of Flora, like every beautiful woman, was conscious "I have given you the trouble of walking to this spot, Captain Waverley, both because I thought the land song would suffer still more from my imperscenery would interest you, and because a Highfect translation, were I to introduce it without its own wild and appropriate accompaniments. To speak in the poetical language of my country, the seat of the Celtic Muse is in the mist of the secret and solitary hill, and her voice in the murmur of the barren rock more than the fertile valley, and the mountain stream. He who wooes her must love of the hall." the solitude of the desert better than the festivity Few could have heard this lovely woman make exalted by pathos, without exclaiming that the muse this declaration, with a voice where harmony was whom she invoked could never find a more appropriate representative. But Waverley, though the utter it. Indeed, the wild feeling of romantic dethought rushed on his mind, found no courage to 1 See Note X,- Waterfall. light with which he heard the few first notes she drew from her instrument, amounted almost to a sense of pain. He would not for worlds have quitted his place by her side; yet he almost longed for solitude, that he might decipher and examine at leisure the complication of emotions which now agi tated his bosom. Flora had exchanged the measured and monotonous recitative of the bard for a lofty and uncommon Highland air, which had been a battle-song in former ages. A few irregular strains introduced a prelude of a wild and peculiar tone, which harmonized well with the distant waterfall, and the soft sigh of the evening breeze in the rustling leaves of an aspen which overhung the seat of the fair harpress. The following verses convey but little idea of the feelings with which, so sung and accompanied, they were heard by Waverley : There is mist on the mountain, and night on the vale, The dirk and the target lie sordid with dust, True son of Sir Evan, undaunted Lochiel, Stern son of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kintail, Let the clan of grey Fingon, whose offspring has given How Mac-Shimei will joy when their chief shall display The ewe-crested bonnet o'er tresses of grey! How the race of wrong'd Alpine and murder'd Glencoe Shall shout for revenge when they pour on the foe! Ye sons of brown Dermid, who slew the wild boar, Resume the pure faith of the great Callum-More! Mac-Neil of the Islands, and Moy of the lake, For honour, for freedom, for vengcance awake! Here a large greyhound, bounding up the glen, jumped upon Flora, and interrupted her music by Lis importunate cafesses. At a distant whistle, he turned, and shot down the path again with the rapidity of an arrow. "That is Fergus's faithful at 1 The young and daring Adventurer, Charles Edward, landed at Glenaladale, in Moidart, and displayed his standard in the valley of Glenfinnan, mustering around it the Mac-Donalds, the Camerons, and other less numerous Clans, whom he had prevailed on to join him. There is a tendant, Captain Waverley, and that was his signal. He likes no poetry but what is humorous, and comes in good time to interrupt my long catalogue of the tribes, whom one of your saucy English poets calls Our bootless host of high-born beggars, Mac-Leans, Mac-Kenzies, and Mac-Gregors." Waverley expressed his regret at the interrup tion. "O you cannot guess how much you have lost! The bard, as in duty bound, has addressed three long stanzas to Vich Ian Vohr of the Banners, enumerating all his great properties, and not forgetting his being a cheerer of the harper and bard-a giver of bounteous gifts.' Besides, you should have heard a practical admonition to the fair-haired son of the stranger, who lives in the land where the grass is always green-the rider on the shining pampered steed, whose hue is like the raven, and whose neigh is like the scream of the eagle for battle. This valiant horseman is affectionately conjured to remember that his ancestors were distinguished by their loyalty, as well as by their courage.-All this you have lost; but, since your curiosity is not satisfied, I judge, from the distant sound of my brother's whistle, I may have time to sing the concluding stanzas before he comes to laugh at my translation." Awake on your hills, on your islands awake, Brave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the lake! 'Tis the bugle-but not for the chase is the call; 'Tis the pibroch's shrill summons-but not to the hall. 'Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death, When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath: They call to the dirk, the claymore, and the targe, To the march and the muster, the line and the charge. Be the brand of each Chieftain like Fin's in his ire! May the blood through his veins flow like currents of fire! Burst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of yore, Or die like your sires, and endure it no more! CHAPTER XXIII. Waverley continues at Glennaquoich. A sim As Flora concluded her song, Fergus stood before them. "I knew I should find you here, even without the assistance of my friend Bran. ple and unsublimed taste now, like my own, would prefer a jet d'eau at Versailles to this cascade with all its accompaniments of rock and roar; but this is Flora's Parnassus, Captain Waverley, and that fountain her Helicon. It would be greatly for the benefit of my cellar if she could teach her coadjutor, Mac-Murrough, the value of its influence: he said, the coldness of the claret-Let me try its virhas just drunk a pint of usquebaugh to correct, he tues." He sipped a little water in the hollow of his hand, and immediately commenced, with a theatrical air, "() Lady of the desert, hail! That lovest the harping of the Gael, Through fair and fertile regions borne, Where never yet grew grass or corn. But English poetry will never succeed under the influence of a Highland Helicon-Allons, courage — O vous, qui buvez, à tasse pleine, A cette heureuse fontaine, monument erected on the spot, with a Latin inscription by the late Dr Gregory. The Marquis of Tullibardine's elder brother, who, long exiled, returned to Scotland with Charles Edward in 1745. Mi curo, in fe de Dio, che'l bere d'acque (Bea chi ber ne vuol) sempre me spiacque!1 But if you prefer the Gaelic, Captain Waverley, here is little Cathleen shall sing you Drimmindhu. -Come, Cathleen, astore (i. e. my dear), begin; no apologies to the Cean-kinné." Cathleen sung with much liveliness a little Gaelic song, the burlesque elegy of a countryman on the loss of his cow, the comic tones of which, though he did not understand the language, made Waverley laugh more than once.2 "Admirable, Cathleen!" cried the Chieftain; "I must find you a handsome husband among the clansmen one of these days." Cathleen laughed, blushed, and sheltered herself behind her companion. In the progress of their return to the castle, the Chieftain warmly pressed Waverley to remain for a week or two, in order to see a grand hunting party, in which he and some other Highland gentlemen proposed to join. The charms of melody and beauty were too strongly impressed in Edward's breast to permit his declining an invitation so pleasing. It was agreed, therefore, that he should write a note to the Baron of Bradwardine, expressing his intention to stay a fortnight at Glennaquoich, and requesting him to forward by the bearer (a gilly of the Chieftain's) any letters which might have arrived for him. This turned the discourse upon the Baron, whom Fergus highly extolled as a gentleman and soldier. His character was touched with yet more discrimination by Flora, who observed that he was the very model of the old Scottish cavalier, with all his excellencies and peculiarities. "It is a character, Captain Waverley, which is fast disappearing; for its best point was a self-respect, which was never lost sight of till now. But, in the present time, the gentlemen whose principles do not permit them to pay court to the existing government, are neglected and degraded, and many conduct themselves accordingly; and, like some of the persons you have seen at Tully-Veolan, adopt habits and companions inconsistent with their birth and breeding. The ruthless proscription of party seems to degrade the victims whom it brands, however unjustly. But let us hope that a brighter day is approaching, when a Scottish country-gentleman may be a scholar without 1 Good sooth, I reck not of your Helicon; Drink water whoso will, in faith I will drink none. This ancient Gaelic ditty is still well known, both in the pedantry of our friend the Baron, a sportsman without the low habits of Mr Falconer, and a judicious improver of his property without becoming a boorish two-legged steer like Killancureit." Thus did Flora prophesy a revolution, which time indeed has produced, but in a manner very different from what she had in her mind. The amiable Rose was next mentioned, with the warmest encomium on her person, manners, and mind. "That man," said Flora, " will find an inestimable treasure in the affections of Rose Bradwardine, who shall be so fortunate as to become their object. Her very soul is in home, and in the discharge of all those quiet virtues of which home is the centre. Her husband will be to her what her father now is, the object of all her care, solicitude, and affection. She will see nothing, and connect herself with nothing, but by him and through him. If he is a man of sense and virtue, she will sympathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigue, and share his pleasures. If she becomes the property of a churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, for she will not long survive his unkindness. And, alas! how great is the chance that some such unworthy lot may be that of my poor friend!-0 that I were a queen this moment, and could command the most amiable and worthy youth of my kingdom to accept happiness with the hand of Rose Bradwardine!" "I wish you would command her to accept mine en attendant," said Fergus, laughing. I don't know by what caprice it was that this wish, however jocularly expressed, rather jarred on Edward's feelings, notwithstanding his growing inclination to Flora, and his indifference to Miss Bradwardine. This is one of the inexplicabilities of human nature, which we leave without comment. "Yours, brother?" answered Flora, regarding him steadily. "No; you have another bride-Honour; and the dangers you must run in pursuit of her rival would break poor Rose's heart." With this discourse they reached the castle, and Waverley soon prepared his dispatches for TullyVeolan. As he knew the Baron was punctilious in such matters, he was about to impress his billet with a seal on which his armorial bearings were engraved, but he did not find it at his watch, and thought he must have left it at Tully-Veolan. He mentioned his loss, borrowing at the same time the family seal of the Chieftain. "Surely," said Miss Mac-Ivor, "Donald Bean Lean would not "My life for him, in such circumstances," answered her brother;-"besides, he would never have left the watch behind." "After all, Fergus," said Flora, " and with every allowance, I am surprised you can countenance that man.' "I countenance him?-This kind sister of mine would persuade you, Captain Waverley, that I take what the people of old used to call a steakraid,' that is, a collop of the foray,' or, in plainer words, a portion of the robber's booty, paid by him to the Laird, or Chief, through whose grounds he drove his prey. O, it is certain, that unless I can find some way to charm Flora's tongue, General Blake the Highlands and in Ireland. It was translated into English, and published, if I mistake not, under the auspices of the facetious Tom D'Urfey, by the title of " Colley, my Cow." ney will send a sergeant's party from Stirling (this he said with haughty and emphatic irony) to seize Vich Ian Vohr, as they nickname me, in his own castle." ale, beer, wine, muscadel, malvaise, hippocras, and Now, Fergus, must not our guest be sensible "No cause, Fergus! not even that which is nearest to my heart. Spare it the omen of such evil supporters!" "O but, sister," rejoined the Chief, gaily, "you don't consider my respect for la belle passion. Evan Dhu Maccombich is in love with Donald's daughter, Alice, and you cannot expect me to disturb him in his amours. Why, the whole clan would cry shame on me. You know it is one of their wise sayings, that a kinsman is part of a man's body, but a fosterbrother is a piece of his heart." "Well, Fergus, there is no disputing with you; but I would all this may end well." "Devoutly prayed, my dear and prophetic sister, and the best way in the world to close a dubious argument. But hear ye not the pipes, Captain Waverley? Perhaps you will like better to dance to them in the hall, than to be deafened with their harmony without taking part in the exercise they invite us to." Waverley took Flora's hand. The dance, song, and merry-making proceeded, and closed the day's entertainment at the castle of Vich Ian Vohr. Edward at length retired, his mind agitated by a variety of new and conflicting feelings, which detained him from rest for some time, in that not unpleasing state of mind in which fancy takes the belm, and the soul rather drifts passively along with the rapid and confused tide of reflections, than exerts itself to encounter, systematize, or examine them. At a late hour he fell asleep, and dreamed of Flora Mac-Ivor. CHAPTER XXIV. A Stag-hunt, and its Consequences. SHALL this be a long or a short chapter?-This is a question in which you, gentle reader, have no vote, however much you may be interested in the consequences; just as you may (like myself) probably have nothing to do with the imposing a new tax, excepting the trifling circumstance of being obliged to pay it. More happy surely in the present case, since, though it lies within my arbitrary power to extend my materials as I think proper, I cannot call you into Exchequer if you do not think proper to read my narrative. Let me therefore consider. It is true, that the annals and documents in my hands say but little of this Highland chase; but then I can find copious materials for description elsewhere. There is old Lindsay of Pitscottie ready at my elbow, with his Athole hunting, and his "lofted and joisted palace of green timber; with all kind of drink to be had in burgh and land, as that Scotland, namely, was the-the-the latter But without further tyranny over my readers, The solemn hunting was delayed, from various spent by Waverley with great satisfaction at Glenna- At length, the period fixed for the grand hunting the country far and near, forming a circle, technically called the tinchel, which, gradually closing, drove the deer in herds together towards the glen where the Chiefs and principal sportsmen lay in wait for them. In the meanwhile, these distinguished personages bivouacked among the flowery heath, wrapped up in their plaids; a mode of passing a summer's night which Waverley found by no means unpleasant. For many hours after sun-rise, the mountain ridges and passes retained their ordinary appearance of silence and solitude, and the Chiefs, with their followers, amused themselves with various pastimes, in which the joys of the shell, as Ossian has it, were not forgotten. " Others apart sate on a hill retired;" probably as deeply engaged in the discussion of politics and news, as Milton's spirits in metaphysical disquisition. At length signals of the approach of the game were descried and heard. Distant shouts resounded from valley to valley, as the various parties of Highlanders, climbing rocks, struggling through copses, wading brooks, and traversing thickets, approached more and more near to each other, and compelled the astonished deer, with the other wild animals that fled before them, into a narrower circuit. Every now and then the report of muskets was heard, repeated by a thousand echoes. The baying of the dogs was soon added to the chorus, which grew ever louder and more loud. At length the advanced parties of the deer began to show themselves; and as the stragglers came bounding down the pass by two or three at a time, the Chiefs showed their skill by distinguishing the fattest deer, and their dexterity in bring ing them down with their guns. Fergus exhibited remarkable address, and Edward was also so fortunate as to attract the notice and applause of the sportsmen. But now the main body of the deer appeared at the head of the glen, compelled into a very narrow compass, and presenting such a formidable phalanx, that their antlers appeared at a distance, over the ridge of the steep pass, like a leafless grove. Their number was very great, and from a desperate stand which they made, with the tallest of the red-deer stags arranged in front, in a sort of battle array, gazing on the group which barred their passage down the glen, the more experienced sportsmen began to augur danger. The work of destruction, however, now commenced on all sides. Dogs and hunters were at work, and muskets and fusees resounded from every quarter. The deer, driven to desperation, made at length a fearful charge right upon the spot where the more distinguished sportsmen had taken their stand. The word was given in Gaelic to fling themselves upon their faces; but Waverley, on whose English ears the signal was lost, had almost fallen a sacrifice to his ignorance of the ancient language in which it was communicated. Fergus, observing his danger, sprung up and pulled him with violence to the ground, just as the whole herd broke down upon them. The tide 1 The thrust from the tynes, or branches, of the stag's horns, were accounted far more dangerous than those of the boar's tusk: If thou be hurt with horn of stag, it brings thee to thy bier, But barber's hand shall boar's hurt heal; thereof have thou no fear. This garb, which resembled the dress often put on children in Scotland, called a polonie (i. e. polonalse), is being absolutely irresistible, and wounds from a stag's horn highly dangerous, the activity of the Chieftain may be considered, on this occasion, as having saved his guest's life. He detained him with a firm grasp until the whole herd of deer had fairly run over them. Waverley then attempted to rise, but found that he had suffered several very severe contusions, and, upon a further examination, discovered that he had sprained his ankle violently. This checked the mirth of the meeting, although the Highlanders, accustomed to such incidents, and prepared for them, had suffered no harm themselves. A wigwam was erected almost in an instant, where Edward was deposited on a couch of heather. The surgeon, or he who assumed the office, appeared to unite the characters of a leech and a conjuror. He was an old smoke-dried Highlander, wearing a venerable grey beard, and having for his sole garment a tartan frock, the skirts of which descended to the knee, and, being undivided in front, made the vestment serve at once for doublet and breeches. He observed great ceremony in approaching Edward; and though our hero was writhing with pain, would not proceed to any operation which might assuage it until he had perambulated his couch three times, moving from east to west, according to the course of the sun. This, which was called making the deasil, both the leech and the assistants seemed to consider as a matter of the last importance to the accomplishment of a cure; and Waverley, whom pain rendered incapable of expostulation, and who indeed saw no chance of its being attended to, submitted in silence. After this ceremony was duly performed, the old Esculapius let his patient blood with a cuppingglass with great dexterity, and proceeded, muttering all the while to himself in Gaelic, to boil on the fire certain herbs, with which he compounded an embrocation. He then fomented the parts which had sustained injury, never failing to murmur prayers or spells, which of the two Waverley could not distinguish, as his ear only caught the words Gasper-Melchior-Balthazar-max-prax-fax, and similar gibberish. The fomentation had a speedy effect in alleviating the pain and swelling, which our hero imputed to the virtue of the herbs, or the effect of the chafing, but which was by the bystanders unanimously ascribed to the spells with which the operation had been accompanied. Edward was given to understand, that not one of the ingredients had been gathered except during the full moon, and that the herbalist had, while collecting them, uniformly recited a charm, which in English ran thus:— Hail to thee, thou holy herb, That sprung on holy ground! All in the Mount Olivet First wert thou found: Thou art boot for many a bruise, Edward observed, with some surprise, that even Fergus, notwithstanding his knowledge and edu a very ancient modification of the Highland garb. It was, in fact, the hauberk or shirt of mail, only composed of cloth instead of rings of armour. 3 Old Highlanders will still make the deusil around those whom they wish well to. To go round a person in the opposite direction, or wither-shins (German wider-shins), is unlucky, and a sort of incantation. 4 This metrical spell, or something very like it, is preserved by Reginald Scott, in his work on Witchcraft. |