"Do you hear that, nephew?" said Oldbuck;--"you observe your Gaelic
ancestors were not held in high repute formerly by the Lowland
warriors."

"I hear," said Hector, "a silly old woman sing a silly old song. I
am surprised, sir, that you, who will not listen to Ossian's songs of
Selma, can be pleased with such trash. I vow, I have not seen or heard
a worse halfpenny ballad; I don't believe you could match it in any
pedlar's pack in the country. I should be ashamed to think that the
honour of the Highlands could be affected by such doggrel. "--And,
tossing up his head, he snuffed the air indignantly.

Apparently the old woman heard the sound of their voices; for, ceasing
her song, she called out, "Come in, sirs, come in--good-will never halted
at the door-stane."

They entered, and found to their surprise Elspeth alone, sitting
"ghastly on the hearth," like the personification of Old Age in
the Hunter's song of the Owl,* "wrinkled, tattered, vile, dim-eyed,
discoloured, torpid."

* See Mrs. Grant on the Highland Superstitions, vol. ii. p. 260, for
this fine translation from the Gaelic.

"They're a' out," she said, as they entered; "but an ye will sit a
blink, somebody will be in. If ye hae business wi' my gude-daughter, or
my son, they'll be in belyve,--I never speak on business mysell. Bairns,
gie them seats--the bairns are a' gane out, I trow,"--looking around
her;--"I was crooning to keep them quiet a wee while since; but they hae
cruppen out some gate. Sit down, sirs, they'll be in belyve;" and she
dismissed her spindle from her hand to twirl upon the floor, and soon
seemed exclusively occupied in regulating its motion, as unconscious of
the presence of the strangers as she appeared indifferent to their rank
or business there.

"I wish," said Oldbuck, "she would resume that canticle, or legendary
fragment. I always suspected there was a skirmish of cavalry before the
main battle of the Harlaw."*

* Note H. Battle of Harlaw.

"If your honour pleases," said Edie, "had ye not better proceed to the
business that brought us a' here? I'se engage to get ye the sang ony
time."

"I believe you are right, Edie--Do manus--I submit. But how shall we
manage? She sits there the very image of dotage. Speak to her, Edie--try
if you can make her recollect having sent you to Glenallan House."

Edie rose accordingly, and, crossing the floor, placed himself in the
same position which he had occupied during his former co