's mind and the
light under which Mr. Gilfillan presented himself, one might have feared,
admired, or laughed at him. His dress was that of a West-Country peasant,
of better materials indeed than that of the lower rank, but in no respect
affecting either the mode of the age or of the Scottish gentry at any
period. His arms were a broadsword and pistols, which, from the antiquity
of their appearance, might have seen the rout of Pentland or Bothwell
Brigg.

As he came up a few steps to meet Major Melville, and touched solemnly,
but slightly, his huge and over-brimmed blue bonnet, in answer to the
Major, who had courteously raised a small triangular gold-laced hat,
Waverley was irresistibly impressed with the idea that he beheld a leader
of the Roundheads of yore in conference with one of Marlborough's
captains.

The group of about thirty armed men who followed this gifted commander
was of a motley description. They were in ordinary Lowland dresses, of
different colours, which, contrasted with the arms they bore, gave them
an irregular and mobbish appearance; so much is the eye accustomed to
connect uniformity of dress with the military character. In front were a
few who apparently partook of their leader's enthusiasm, men obviously to
be feared in a combat, where their natural courage was exalted by
religious zeal. Others puffed and strutted, filled with the importance of
carrying arms and all the novelty of their situation, while the rest,
apparently fatigued with their march, dragged their limbs listlessly
along, or straggled from their companions to procure such refreshments as
the neighbouring cottages and alehouses afforded. Six grenadiers of
Ligonier's, thought the Major to himself, as his mind reverted to his own
military experience, would have sent all these fellows to the right
about.

Greeting, however, Mr. Gilfillan civilly, he requested to know if he had
received the letter he had sent to him upon his march, and could
undertake the charge of the state prisoner whom he there mentioned as far
as Stirling Castle. 'Yea,' was the concise reply of the Cameronian
leader, in a voice which seemed to issue from the very penetralia of his
person.

'But your escort, Mr. Gilfillan, is not so strong as I expected,' said
Major Melville.

'Some of the people,' replied Gilfillan, 'hungered and were athirst by
the way, and tarried until their poor souls were refreshed with the
word.'

'I am sorry, sir,' replied the Maj