acter 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-WET-FOOTS, [A bare-footed Highland lad is called a
gillie-wet-foot. Gillie, in general, means servant or attendant.] 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 yore, and magnanimously flaying and embowelling the
slain animal (which, he observed, was called by the French chasseurs
FAIRE LA CUREE) with his own baronial COUTEAU DE CHASSE. After this
ceremony he conducted his guest homeward by a pleasant and circuitous
route, commanding 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
feelings which his narrative 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 his evening promenade upon the
terrace of Tully-Veolan, where for hours together--the very model old
Hardyknute--

Stately stepped he east the wa',
And stately stepped he west.

As for literature, he read the classic poets, to be sure, and the
EPITHALAMIUM of Georgius Buchanan, and Arthur Johnston's PSALMS, of
a Sunday; and the DELICIAE POETARUM SCOTORUM, 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 mus