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 appropiate gesture. He seemed, to Edward, who attended to him with much interest, to recite many proper names, to lament the dead, to apostrophize the absent, to exhort, and entreat. and animate those who were present. Waverley thought he even discerned his own name, and was convinced his conjecture was right, from the eyes of the company being at that moment turned towards him simultaneously. The ardour of the poet appeared to communicate itself to the audiTheir wild and sun-burned countenances assumed a fiercer and more animated expression; all bent forward towards the reciter, many sprung up and waved their arms in ecstasy, and soine 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.

ence.

The chieftain, who, during this scene, had appeared rather to watch the emotions which were excited, than to partake the high tone of enthusiasm, filled with claret a small silver cup that stood by him, "Give this," he said to an attendant, "to Mac-Murrough nan Fohn, (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 gift was received by Mac-Murrough with profound gratitude; he drank the wine, and kissing the eup, shrouded it with reverence in the plaid which was folded on his bosom. He then burst forth into what Edward justly supposed to be an extemporaneous effusion of thanks and praises of his chief. It

was received with applause, but did not produce the effect of his first poem. It was obvious, however, that the clan regarded the generosity of their chieftain with high approbation. Many approved Gaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of which the chieftain gave his guest the following versions:

"To him that will not turn his back on friend or foe." "To him that never forsook a comrade." "To him that never bought or sold justice." "Hospitality to the exile, and broken bones to the tyrant.' lads with the kilts." "Highlanders shoulder to shoulder."-with many other pithy sentiments of the like

nature.

"The

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

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

CHAPTER XXI.

The Chieftain's Sister.

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

Flora Mac-Ivor bore a most striking resemblance to her brother Fergus; so much so, that they might have played Viola and Sebastian, with the same exquisite effect produced by the appearance of Mrs. Henry Siddons and her brother in those characters. They had the same antique and regular correctness of profile; the same dark eyes, eye-lashes, and eyebrows; the same clearness of complexion, excepting that Fergus's was embrowned by exercise, and Flora's possessed the utmost feminine delicacy. But the haughty, and somewhat stern regularity of Fergus's features, was beautifully softened in those of Flora. Their voices were also similar in tone, though differing in the key. That of Fergus, especially while

issuing orders to his followers during their military exercise, reminded Edward of a favourite passage in the description of Emetrius

-Whose voice was heard around,

Loud as a trumpet with a silver sound.

That of Flora, on the contrary, was soft and sweet, "an excellent thing in woman;" yet in urging any favourite topic, which she often pursued with natural eloquence, it possessed as well the tones which impress awe and correction, 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's, acquired a gentle pensiveness. His looks seemed to seek glory, power, all that could exalt him above all others in the race of humanity; while those of his sister, as it she was already conscious of mental superiority, seemed to pity rather than envy those who were struggling for any other distinction. Her sentiments corresponded with the expression of her countenance. Early education had impressed upon her mind, as well as on that of the chieftain, the most devoted attachment to the exiled family of Stuart. She believed 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 in fanaticism, excelled it also in purity. Accustomed to petty intrigue, and necessarily involved in a thousand paltry and selfish discussions, ambitious also by nature, his political faith was tinctured at least, if not tainted, by the views of interest and advancement so easily combined with it; and at the moment he should unsheathe his claymore, it might be difficult to say, whether it would be most with the view

of making James Stuart a king, or Fergus Mac-Ivor an earl. This indeed, was a mixture of feelings 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 burned pure and unmixed with any selfish feeling; she would have as soon made religion the mask of ambitious and interested views, as have shrouded them under the opinions which she had been taught to think patriotism. Such instances of devotion were not uncommon among the followers of the unhappy race of Stuart, of which many memorable proofs will recur to the mind of most of my readers. But peculiar attention on the part of 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 cavalier'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; and both 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 her vacant time, she bestowed a part of it upon the music and poetical traditions of the Highlanders, and began really to feel that pleasure in the