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.

410 WAYVERLEY NOVELS.
upon it, "is neither so young nor so handsome as to tempt a man to iuilow
her to the gauntrees, and devil a one here is there worth sending in her
place.-What's this?-meat?" (searching with a fork among the broth, and
fishing up a cutlet of mutton) —" I think I could eat a bit-why, it's a
tough as if the devil's dam had hatched it."
"If there is anything better in the house, sir," said Milnwood, alarmed
at these symptoms of disapprobation"No, no," said Bothwell, " it's not worth while; I must proceed to business.-You attend Poundtext the presbyterian parson, I understand, Mr.
Morton?"
Mr. Morton hastened to slide in a confession and apology.
"By the indulgence of his gracious Majesty and the Government, for I
wad do nothing out of law —I hae nae objection whatever to the establishment of a moderate episcopacy, but only that I am a country-bred man, and
the ministers are a hamelier kind of folk, and I can follow their doctrine
better; and, with reverence, sir, it's a mair frugal establishment for the
country."
"Well, I care nothing about that," said Bothwell; "they are indulged,
and there's an end of it; but, for my part, if I were to give the law, never a
crop-ear'd cur of the whole pack should bark in a Scotch pulpit. However,
I am to obey commands. —'here comes the liquor: put it down, my good
old lady."
He decanted about one-half of a quart bottle of claret into a wooden
quaigh or bicker, and took it off at a draught.
" You did your good wine injustice, my friend; —it's better than your
brandy, though that's good too. Will you pledge me to the kitg's health?"
"With pleasure," said Milnwood, "in ale,-but I never drink claret, and
keep only a very little for some honoured friends."
" Like me, I suppose," said Bothwell; and then pushing the bottle to
Henry, he said, " IHere, young man, pledge you the king's health."
Henry filled a moderate glass in silence, regardless of the hints and
pushes of his uncle, which seemed to indicate that he ought to have followed his example, in preferring beer to wine.
"Well," said Bothwell, "have ye all drank the toast? —What is that old
wife about? Give her a glass of brandy, she shall drink the king's health,
by""If your honour pleases," said Cuddie, with great stolidity of aspect,
" this is my mither, stir; and she's as deaf as Corra-linn; we canna mak
her hear day nor door; but if your honour pleases, I am ready to drink the
king's health for her in as mony glasses of brandy as ye think neshessary."
"I dare swear you are," answered Bothwell; "' you look like a fellow that
would stick to brandy - help thyself, man; all's free where'er I come.Tom, help the maid to a comfortable cup, though she's but a dirty jilt
neither. Fill round once more. Here's to our noble commander, Colonel
Grahame, of Claverhouse! What the devil is the old woman groaning for?
She looks as very a whig as ever sate on a hill-side —Do you renounce the
Covenant, good woman?"
"Whilk Covenant is your honour meaning?-is it the Covenant of Works,
or the Covenant of Grace?" said Cuddie, interposing.
"Any covenant — all covenants that ever were hatched," answered the
trooper.
"Mither," cried Cuddie, affecting to speak as to a deaf person, "the
gentleman wants to ken if ye will renunce the Covenant of Works?"
" With all my heart, Cuddie," said Mlause, " and pray that my feet may
be delivered from the snare thereof."
" Come," said Bothwell, "the old dame has come more frankly off than
I expected. Another cup round, and then we'll proceed to business.-You
have all heard, I suppose, of the horrid and barbarous murder committed