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The bagpipers, three in number, screamed, during the whole lime of dinner, a tremendous war-lune; and the echoing of the vaulted roof, and clang of the Celtic tongue, produced such a Babel of noises, that Waverley dreaded his ears would never recover it. MacIvor, indeed, apologized for the confusion occasioned by so large a party, and pleaded the necessity of his situation, on which uplimited hospitality was imposed as a paramount duty. “These stout idle kinsmen of mine," he said, account my estale as held in Irust for their support; and I must find them beef and ale, while the rogues will do nothing for themselves but practise the broadsword, or wander about the hills, shooting, fishing, hunting, drinking, and making love to the lasses of the strath. But what can I do, Captain Waverley ? every thing will keep after ils kind, whether it be a hawk or a Highlander.” Edward made the expected answer, in a compliment upon his possessing so many bold and altached followers.

“Why, yes,” replied the Chief, “ were I disposed, like my father, to put myself in the way of gelting one blow on the head, or two on the neck, I believe the loons would stand by me. But who thinks of that in the present day, when the maxim is,

" Better an old woman with a purse in her hand, than three men with belted brands?” Then, turning to the company, he proposed the “Health of Captain Waverley, a worthy friend of his kind neighbour and ally, the Baron of Bradwardine."

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

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

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

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

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

their work-people. The difference belwixt those of high degree, was ascertained by the place of the party above or below the sall, or, sometimes, by a line drawn with chalk on the dining table. Lord Loval, who knew well how to feed the vanity, and restrain the appetites, of his clansmen, allowed each slurdy Fraser, who had the slightest pretensions to be a Duinbé-wassel, the full honour of the sitting, bul, at the same time, took care thal bis young kinsmen did not acquire at his table any taste for outlandish luxuries. His lordship was always ready with some honourable apology, why foreign wines and French brandy, delicacies which he conceived might sap the hardy habits of his cousins, should nol circulate past an assigned point on the tabl:.


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

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

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

The Chieftain, who, during this scene, had appeared rather to watch the emotions which were excited, than to partake their high tone of enthusiasm, filled with claret a sınall silver cup which stood by him. “Give this," he said to an altendant, "to Mac-Murrough nan Fonn, (i. e. of the songs,) and when he has drank the juice, bid him keep, for the sake of Vich Ian Vohr, the shell of the gourd which contained it.” The gist was received by Mac-Murrough with profound gratitude ; he drank the wine, and, kissing the cup, shrouded it with reverence in the plaid which was folded on his bosom. He then burst forth into what Edward justly supposed to be an extemporaneous effusion of thanks, and praises of his Chief. It was received with applause, but did not produce the effect of his first poem. It was obvious, however, that the clan regarded the generosity of their Chieftain with high approbation. Many approved Gaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of which the Chiestain gave his guest the following versions :

To him that will not lurn his back on friend or foe.” 6 To him that never forsook a comrade.” “To him that never bought or sold justice.” “Hospitality to the exile, and broken bones to the lyrant.” “The lads with the kills.” “ Highlanders, shoulder to shoulder,”—with many other pithy sentiments of the like nature.

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

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



The drawing-room of Flora Mac-Ivor was furnished in the plainest and most simple manner; for at Glennaquoich every other sort of expenditure was retrenched as much as possible, for the purpose of maintaining, in its full dignity, the hospitality of the Chieslain, and retaining and multiplying the number of his dependents and adherents. But there was no appearance of this parsimony in the dress of the lady herself, which was in texture elegant, and even rich, and arranged in a manner which partook partly of the Parisian fashion, and partly of the more simple dress of the Highlands, blended together with great taste. Her hair was not disfigured by the art of the friseur, but fell in jelly ringlets on her neck, confined only by a circlet, richly set with diamonds. This peculiarity she adopted in compliance with the Highland prejudices, which could not endure that a woman's head should be covered before wedlock.

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

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


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

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

Having thus touched upon the leading principle of Flora's character, I may dismiss the rest more slightly. She was highly accomplished, and had acquired those elegant manners to be expected from one who, in early youth, had been the companion of a princess; yet she had not learned to substitute the gloss of politeness for the reality of feeling. When settled in the lonely regions of Glennaquoich, she found that her resources in French, English, and Italian literature, were likely to be few and interrupted ; and, in order to fill up the vacant time, she bestowed a part of it upon the music and poelical traditions of the Highlanders, and began really to feel the pleasure in the pursuit, which her brother, whose perceptions of literary merit were more blunt, rather affected for the sake of popularity than actually experienced. Her resolution was strengthened in these researches, by the extreme delight which her inquiries seemed to afford those to whom she resorted for information.

Her love of her clan, an attachment which was almost hereditary in her bosom, was, like her loyalty, a more pure passion than that of her brother. He was too thorough a politician, regarded his patriarchal influence too much as the means of accomplishing his own aggrandizement, that we should term him the model of a Highland Chieftain. Flora felt the same anxiety for cherishing and extending their patriarchal sway, but it was with the generous desire of vindicating from poverty, or at least from want and foreign oppression, those whom her brother was by birth, according to the notions of the time and country, entitled to govern. The savings of her income, for she had a small pension from the Princess Sobieski, were dedicated, not to add to the comforts of the

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