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CHAPTER XIII.

A more rational Day than the last.

The Baron of Bradwardine, mounted on an active and well-managed horse, and scated on a demi-pique saddle, with deep housings to agree with his livery, was no bad representation of the old school. His light-coloured embroidered coat, and superbly-barred waistcoat, his brigadier-wig, surmounted by a small gold-laced cocked hat, completed his personal costume; but he was attended by two wellmounted servants on horseback, armed with holster-pistols.

In this guise he ambled forth over hill and valley, the admiration of every farm-yard which they passed in their progress; till, « low down in a grassy vale,» they found David Gellatley leading two very tall deer greyhounds, and presiding over half a dozen curs, and about as many bare-legged and bare-headed boys,

who, to procure the chosen distinction of attending on the chase, had not failed to tickle his ears with the dulcet appellation of Maister Gellatley, though probably all and each had hooted him on former occasions in the character of daft Davie. But this is no uncommon strain of flattery to persons in office, nor altogether confined to the bare-legged villagers of Tully-Veolan; it was in fashion Sixty Years since, is now, and will be six hundred years hence, if this admirable compound of folly and knavery, called the world, shall be then in existence.

These Gillie-white-foots, as they were called, were destined to beat the bushes, which they performed with so much success, that after half an hour's search a roe was started, coursed, and killed; the Baron following on his white horse, like Earl Percy of magnanimously flaying and disembowelling the slain animal (which, he observed, was called by the French chasseurs, faire la curée) with his own baronial couteau de chasse. After this ceremony, he conducted his guest homeward by a pleasant and circuitous route, cominanding an extensive prospect of different villages and houses, to each of which Mr Bradwardine attached some anecdote of history or genealogy, told in language whimsical from prejudice and pedantry, but often respectable for the good sense and honourable

yore, and

feelings which his narratives displayed, and almost always curious, if not valuable, for the information they contained.

The truth is, the ride seemed agreeable to both gentlemen, because they found amusement in each other's conversation, although their characters and habits of thinking were in many respects totally opposite. Edward, we have informed the reader, was warm in his feelings, wild and romantic in his ideas and in his taste of reading, with a strong disposition towards poetry. Mr Bradwardine was the reverse of all this, and piqued himself upon stalking through life with the same upright, starched, stoical gravity which distinguished bis evening promenade upon the terrace of Tully-Veolan, where for hours together-the very model of old Hardyknute

Stately stepp'd he east the wa',
And stately stepp'd he west.

As for literature, he read the classic poets, to be sure, and the Epithalamium of Georgius Buchanan, and Arthur Johnstoun's Psalıns, of a Sunday; and the Deliciæ Poetarum, and Sir David Lindsay's Works, and Barbour's Bruce, and Blind Harry’s Wallace, and the Gentle Shepherd, and the Cherry and the Slae. But though he thus far sacrificed his time to the Muses, he would, if the truth must be spoken,

have been much better pleased had the pious or sapient apothegms, as well as the historical narratives which these various works contained, been presented to him in the form of simple prose. And he sometimes could not refrain from expressing contempt of the « vain and unprofitable art of poem-making,» in which, he said, « the only one who had excelled in his time was Allan Ramsay, the periwigmaker.»

But although Edward and he differed toto cælo, as the Baron would have said, upon this subject, yet they met upon history as on a neutral ground, in which each claimed an interest. The Baron, indeed, only cumbered his memory with matters of fact; the cold, dry, hard outlines which history delineates. Edward, on the contrary, loved to fill up and round the sketch with the colouring of a warm and vivid imagination, which gives light and life to the actors and speakers in the drama of past ages. Yet with tastes so opposite, they contributed greatly to each other's amusement. Mr Brad wardine's minute narratives and powerful memory supplied to Waverley fresh subjects of the kind upon which his fancy loved to labour, and opened to him a new mine of incident and of cha

And he repaid the pleasure thus communicated, by an earnest attention, valuable to all story-tellers, more especially to the

racter,

Baron, who felt his habits of self-respect flattered by it; and sometimes also by reciprocal communications, which interested Mr Bradwardine, as confirming or illustrating his own favourite anecdotes. Besides, Mr Bradwardine loved to talk of the scenes of his youth, which had been spent in camps and foreign lands, and had many interesting particulars to tell of the generals under whom he had served, and the actions he had witnessed.

Both parties returned to Tully-Veolan in great good humour with each other; Waverley desirous of studying more attentively what he-considered as a singular and interesting character, gifted with a memory containing a curious register of ancient and modern anecdotes; and Bradwardiné disposed to regard Edward as puer (or rather juvenis) bonce spei et magnæ indolis, a youth devoid of that petulant volatility, which is impatient of, or vilipends, the conversation and advice of his seniors, from which he predicted great things of his future success and deportment in life. There was no other guest except Mr Rubrick, whose information and discourse, as a clergyman and a scholar, harmonized very well with that of the Baron and his guest.

Shortly after dinner, the Baron, as if to show that his temperance was not entirely theoretical, proposed a visit to Rose's apartment, or, as he termed it, her troisième étage. Wa

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