h, apparently in high spirits. A few remained for the
purpose of escorting the Chieftain, who walked by the side of Edward's
litter, and attended him with the most affectionate assiduity. About
noon, after a journey which the nature of the conveyance, the pain
of his bruises, and the roughness of the way, rendered inexpressibly
painful, Waverley was hospitably received into the house of a gentleman
related to Fergus, who had prepared for him every accommodation which
the simple habits of living, then universal in the Highlands, put in his
power. In this person, an old man about seventy, Edward admired a relic
of primitive simplicity. He wore no dress but what his estate afforded.
The cloth was the fleece of his own sheep, woven by his own servants,
and stained into tartan by the dyes produced from the herbs and lichens
of the hills around him. His linen was spun by his daughters and
maid-servants, from his own flax, nor did his table, though plentiful,
and varied with game and fish, offer an article but what was of native
produce.

Claiming himself no rights of clanship or vassalage, he was fortunate
in the alliance and protection of Vich Ian Vohr and other bold and
enterprising Chieftains, who protected him in the quiet unambitious life
he loved. It is true, the youth born on his grounds were often enticed
to leave him for the service of his more active friends; but a few old
servants and tenants used to shake their grey locks when they heard
their master censured for want of spirit, and observed, 'When the wind
is still, the shower falls soft.' This good old man, whose charity and
hospitality were unbounded, would have received Waverley with kindness,
had he been the meanest Saxon peasant, since his situation required
assistance. But his attention to a friend and guest of Vich Ian Vohr was
anxious and unremitted. Other embrocations were applied to the injured
limb, and new spells were put in practice. At length, after more
solicitude than was perhaps for the advantage of his health, Fergus took
farewell of Edward for a few days, when, he said, he would return to
Tomanrait, and hoped by that time Waverley would be able to ride one
of the Highland ponies of his landlord, and in that manner return to
Glennaquoich.

The next day, when his good old host appeared, Edward learned that his
friend had departed with the dawn, leaving none of his followers except
Callum Beg, the sort of foot-page who used to attend his person,