The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

THE BLACK DAWARF. 317
scarce a cloot left. I kenna how we're to carry on-We maun a' gang to
the wars, I think. Westburnflat hasna the means, e'en if he had the will,
to make up our loss; there's nae Lmends to be got out o' him, but what ye
take out o' his banes. He has na a four-footed creature but the vicious
blood thing he rides on, and that's sair trashed wi' his night wark. We are
ruined stoop and roop."
Hobhbie cast a mournful glance on Grace Armstrong, who returned it with
a downcast look and a gentle sigh.
"Dinna be cast down, bairns," said the grandmother, "we hae gude
friends that winna forsake us in adversity. There's Sir Thomas Kittleloof
is my third cousin by the mother's side, and he has come by a hantle sillel
and been made a knight-baronet into the bargain, for being ane o' the commissioners at the Union."'
4 IHe wadnt gie a bodle to save us fiae famishing," said lobbie: "and,
if he did, the bread that I bought mi't would stick in my throat, when
I thought it was part of the price of puir auld Scotland's crown and independence."
" There's the Laird o' Dunder, ane o' the auldest families in Tivotdale."
"' Ie's in the tolbooth, mother- he's in the Heart of Mid-Louden for a
thousand merk he borrowed from Saunders Wyliecoat the writer."
"Poor man i" exclaimed Mrs. Elliot, "can we no send him something,
Hobbie?"
"Ye forget, grannie, ye forget we want help oursells," said Hobbie,
somewhat peevishly.
"Troth did I, hinny," replied the good-natured lady, "just at the instant;
it's sae natural to think on ane's blude relations before themsells.-But
there's young Earnscliff."
" He has ower little o' his ain;, and siccan a name to keep up, it wad be a
shame," said Hobbie, "to burden him wi' our distress. And I'll tell ye,
grannie, it's needless to sit rhyming ower the style of a' your kith, kin, and
allies, as if there was a charm in their braw names to do us good; the
grandees hae forgotten us, and those of our ain degree hae just little eneugh
to gang on wi' themsells; ne'er a friend hae we that can, or will, help us to
stock the farm again."
" Then, Hobbie, we maun trust in HEim that can raise up friends and fortune out o' the bare moor, as they say."
Hobbie sprung upon his feet. "Ye are right, grannie!" he exclaimed;
" ye are right. I do ken a friend on the bare moor, that baith can and will
help us-The turns o' this day dung my head clean hirdie-girdie. I left as
mnuckle gowd lying on Mucklestane-Moor this morning as would plenish the
house and stock the Heugh-foot twice ower, and I am certain sure Elshio
wadna grudge us the use of it."
"Elshie!" said his grandmother in astonishment; " what Elshie do you
mean?"
"What Elshie should I mean, but canny Elshie, the Wight o' Mucklestane?" replied Hobbie.
"God forfend, my bairn, you should gang to fetch water out o' broken
cisterns, or seek for relief frae them that deal wi' the Evil One! There was
never luck in their gifts, nor grace in their paths. And the haill country
kens that body Elshie's an unco man. O, if there was the law, and the
douce quiet administration of justice, that makes a kingdom flourish in
righteousness, the like o' them suldna be suffered to live! The wizard and
the witch are the abomination and the evil thing in the land."
"Troth, mother," answered Hobbie, " ye may say what ye like, but I am
in the mind that witches and warlocks havens half the power they had lang
syne; at least, sure am I, that ae ill-deviser, like auld Ellieslaw, or ae ill-doer,
like that d-d villain Westburnflat, is a greater plague and abomination in
a country-side than a haill curnie o' the warst witches that ever capered on
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