tute of ambition nor encumbered with scruples, he will probably attempt, by every means, to distinguish himself during the period of these unhappy commotions."-Mr. Morton then made a careful memorandum of the various particulars of Waverley's interview with Donald Bean, and the other circumstances which Waverley communicated.

The interest which this good man seemed to take in his misfortunes, above all, the full confidence he appeared to repose in his innocence, had the natural effect of softening Edward's heart, whom the coldness of Major Melville had taught to believe that the world was leagued to oppress him. He shook Mr. Morton warmly by the hand, and assuring him that his kindness and sympathy had relieved his mind of a heavy load, told him, that whatever might be his own fate, he belonged to a family who had both gratitude and the power of displaying it. The earnestness of his thanks called drops to the eyes of the worthy clergyman, who was doubly interested in the cause for which he had volunteered his services, by observing the genuine and undissembled feelings of his young friend.

Edward now inquired if Mr. Morton knew what was likely to be his destination.

“

Stirling Castle," replied his friend; " and so far I am well pleased for your sake, for the governor is a man of honour and humanity. But I am more doubt ful of your treatment upon the road; Major Melville is involuntarily obliged to intrust the custody of your person to another.

"I am glad of it. I detest that cold-blooded, calculating Scotch magistrate. I hope he and I shall never meet more: he had neither sympathy with my innocence, nor with my wretchedness; and the petrifying accuracy with which he attended to every form of civility, while he tortured me by his questions, his suspicions, and his inferences, was as tormenting as the racks of the inquisition. Do not vindicate him,

my dear sir, for that I can not bear with patience; tell ⚫ me rather who is to have the charge of so important a state prisoner as I am?"

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

"I never heard of them before."

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

"I recollect; but did not the triumph of presbytery at the revolution extinguish that sect?"

In

"By no means; that great event fell yet far short of what they proposed, which was nothing less than the complete establishment of the church upon the grounds of the old solemn league and covenant. deed, I believe they scarce knew what they wanted: but being then a numerous body of men, and not ur acquainted with the use of arms, they kept themselves together as a separate party in the state, and at the time of the union had nearly formed a most unnatural league with their old enemies, the jacobites, to oppose that important national measure. Since that time their numbers have gradually diminished; but a good many are still to be found in the western counties, and several, with a better temper than in 1707, have now taken arms for government. This person, whom they call Gifted Gilfillan, has been long a leader among them, and now heads a small party, which will pass here to-day or to-morrow on their march towards Stirling, under whose escort Major Melville proposes you shall travel. I would willingly speak to Gilfillan in your behalf; but, having deeply imbibed all the prejudices of his sect, and being of

the same fierce disposition, he would pay little regard to the remonstrances of an Erastian divine, as . he would politely term me.-And now, farewell, my young friend; for the present I must not weary out the major's indulgence, that I may obtain his permission to visit you again in the course of the day."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Things mend a little.

ABOUT noon Mr. Morton returned and brought an invitation from Major Melville, that Mr. Waverley would honour him with his company to dinner, notwithstanding the unpleasant affair which detained him at Cairnvreckan, from which he should heartily rejoice to see Mr. Waverley completely extricated. The truth was, that Mr. Morton's favourable report and opinion had somewhat staggered the preconceptions of the old soldier concerning Edward's supposed accession to the mutiny in the regiment; and in the unfortunate state of the country, the mere suspicion of disaffection, or an inclination to join the insurgent jacobites, might infer criminality indeed, but certainly not dishonour. Besides, a person whom the major trusted, had reported to him a contradiction of the agitating news of the preceding evening. According to this second edition of the intelligence, the Highlanders had withdrawn from the Lowland frontier with the purpose of following the army in their march to Inverness. The major was at a loss, indeed, to reconcile this information with the wellknown abilities of some of the gentlemen in the Highland army, yet it was the course which was like. ly to be most agreeable to others. He remembered the same policy had detained him in the north in the

year 1715, and he anticipated a similar termination to the insurrection, as upon that occasion. This news put him in such good humour, that he readily acquiesced in Mr. Morton's proposal to pay some hospitable attention to his guest, and voluntarily added, he hoped the whole affair would prove a youthful escapade, which might be easily atoned by a short confinement.

This kind mediator had some trouble to prevail on his young friend to accept the invitation. He dared not urge to him the real motive, which was a goodnatured wish to secure a favourable report of Waverley's case from Major Melville to Governor Blakeney. He remarked, from the flashes of our hero's spirit, that touching upon this topic would be sure to defeat his purpose. He therefore pleaded that the invitation argued the major's disbelief of any part of the accusation, which was inconsistent with Waverley's conduct as a soldier and a man of honour, and that to decline his courtesy might be intepreted into a consciousness that it was unmerited. In short, he so far satisfied Edward that the manly and proper course was to meet the major on easy terms, that, suppressing his strong dislike again to encounter his cold and punctilious civility, Waverley agreed to be guided by his new friend.

The meeting was stiff and formal enough. But Edward, having accepted the invitation, and his mind. being really soothed and relieved by the kindness of Morton, held himself bound to behave with ease, though he could not affect cordiality. The major was somewhat of a bon-vivant, and his wine was excellent. He told his old campaign stories, and displayed much knowledge of men and manners. Morton had an internal fund of placid and quiet gayety, which seldom failed to enliven any small party in which he found himself pleasantly seated. Waverley, whose life was a dream, gave ready way to the predominating impulse, and became the most

Mr.

lively of the party. He had at all times remarkable natural powers of conversation, though easily silenc ed by discouragement. On the present occasion, he piqued himself upon leaving on the minds of his companions a favourable impression of one who, under such disastrous circumstances, could sustain his misfortunes with ease and gayety. His spirits, though not unyielding, were abundantly elastic, and scon seconded his efforts. The trio were engaged in very lively discourse, apparently delighted with each other, and the kind host was pressing the third bottle of burgundy, when the sound of a drum was heard at some distance. The major, who, in the glee of an old soldier, had forgot the duties of a magistrate, cursed. with a muttering military oath, the circumstance which recalled him to his official functions. He rose and went towards the window, which commanded a very near view of the high road, and he was followed by his guests.

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