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.

OLD MORTALITY. 495
will give over the place into our mercy, though they be a rebellious people.
And we will summon the women to come forth of their stronghold, that- is,
Lady Margaret Bellenden and her grand-daughter, and Jenny Dennison,
which is a girl of an ensnaring eye, and the other maids, and we will give
them a safe-conduct, and send them in peace to the city, even to the town
of Edinburgh. But John Gudyill, and Hugh Harrison, and Miles Bellenden,
we will restrain with fetters of iron, even as they, in times bypast, have
done to the martyred saints."
"Who talks of safe-conduct and of peace?" said a shrill, broken, and
overstrained voice, from the crowd.
"Peace, brother Habakkuk," said Macbriar, in a soothing tone,-to the
speaker.
"I will not hold my peace," reiterated the strange and unnatural voice;
"is this a time to speak of peace, when the earth quakes, and the mountains are rent, and the rivers are changed into blood, and the two-edged
sword is drawn from the sheath to drink gore as if it were water, and
devour flesh as the fire devours dry stubble?"
WVhile he spoke thus, the orator struggled forward to the inner part of
the circle, and presented to Morton's wondering eyes a figure worthy of
such a voice and such language. The rags of a dress which had once been
black, added to the tattered fragments of a shepherd's plaid, composed a
covering scarce fit for the purposes of decency, much less for those of
warmth or comfort. A long beard, as white as snow, hung down on his
breast, and mingled with bushy, uncombed, grizzled hair, which hung in
elf-locks around his wild and staring visage. The features seemed to be
extenuated by penury and famine, until they hardly retained the likeness
of a human aspect. The eyes, grey, wild, and wandering, evidently betokened a bewildered imagination. He held in his hand a rusty sword,
clotted with blood, as were his long lean hands, which were garnished at
the extremity with nails like eagle's claws.
"In the name of Heaven, who is he?" said Morton, in a whisper to
Poundtext, - surprised, shocked, and even startled, at this ghastly apparition, which looked more like the resurrection of some cannibal priest, or
druid red from his human sacrifice, than like an earthly mortal.
" It is Habakkuk Mucklewrath," answered Poundtext, in the same tone,
"whom the enemy have long detained in captivity in forts and castles, until
his understanding hath departed from him, and, as I fear, an evil demon
hath possessed him. Nevertheless, our violent brethren will have it, that
he speaketh of the spirit, and that they fructify by his pouring forth."
Here he was interrupted by Mucklewrath, who cried, in a voice that made
the very beams of the roof quiver —" Who talks of peace and safe-conduct?
who speaks of mercy to the bloody house of the malignants? I say, take
the infants and dash them against the stones -take the daughters and the
mothers of the house, and hurl them from the battlements of their trust,
that the dogs may fatten on their blood as they did on that of Jezebel, the
spouse of Ahab, and that their carcasses may be dung to the face of the field
even in the portion of their fathers!"
" IHe speaks right," said more than one sullen voice from behind. " We
will be honoured with little service in the great cause, if we already make
fair weather with Heaven's enemies."
" This is utter abomination and daring impiety," said Morton, unable to
contain his indignation —" What blessing can you expect in a cause, in
which you listen to the mingled ravings of madness and atrocity?"
"Hush, young man!" said Kettledrummle, " and reserve thy censure for
that for which thou canst render a reason. It is not for thee to judge into
what vessels the spirit may be poured."
" We judge of the tree by the fruit," said Poundtext, " and allow not that
to be of divine inspiration that contradicts the divine laws."