, which rose to such huge height, and
flourished so luxuriantly, that their boughs completely over-arched the
broad road beneath. Beyond these venerable ranks, and running parallel
to them, were two high walls, of apparently the like antiquity,
overgrown with ivy, honeysuckle, and other climbing plants. The avenue
seemed very little trodden, and chiefly by foot-passengers; so that
being very broad, and enjoying a constant shade, it was clothed with
grass of a deep and rich verdure, excepting where a footpath, worn by
occasional passengers, tracked with a natural sweep the way from the
upper to the lower gate. This nether portal, like the former, opened in
front of a wall ornamented with some rude sculpture, with battlements on
the top, over which were seen, half-hidden by the trees of the avenue,
the high steep roofs and narrow gables of the mansion, with lines
indented into steps, and corners decorated with small turrets. One of
the folding leaves of the lower gate was open, and as the sun shone
full into the court behind, a long line of brilliancy was flung upon
the aperture up the dark and gloomy avenue. It was one of those effects
which a painter loves to represent, and mingled well with the struggling
light which found its way between the boughs of the shady arch that
vaulted the broad green alley.

The solitude and repose of the whole scene seemed almost romantic; and
Waverley, who had given his horse to his servant on entering the first
gate, walked slowly down the avenue, enjoying the grateful and cooling
shade, and so much pleased with the placid ideas of rest and seclusion
excited by this confined and quiet scene, that he forgot the misery and
dirt of the hamlet he had left behind him. The opening into the paved
courtyard corresponded with the rest of the scene. The house, which
seemed to consist of two or three high, narrow, and steep-roofed
buildings, projecting from each other at right angles, formed one side
of the enclosure. It had been built at a period when castles were no
longer necessary, and when the Scottish architects had not yet acquired
the art of designing a domestic residence. The windows were numberless,
but very small; the roof had some nondescript kind of projections,
called bartizans, and displayed at each frequent angle a small turret,
rather resembling a pepper-box than a Gothic watch-tower. Neither did
the front indicate absolute security from danger. There were loop-holes
for musketry,