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.

ROB ROY. 99
say yes; for rather than anlly good action should walk through the world
like an unappropriated adjective in an ill-arranged sentence, he is always
willing to stand noun substantive to it himself."
" And I must not ask whether this Campbell be himself the party who
eased Mr. Morris of his portmanteau,-or whether the letter, which our
friend the attorney received, was not a finesse to withdraw him from the
scene of action lest he should have marred the happy event of my deliverance? And I must not ask"" You must ask nothing of me," said Miss Vernon; "so it is quite in
vain to go on putting-cases. You are to think just as well of me as if I had
answered all these queries, and twenty others besides, as glibly as Rashleigh
could have done; and observe, whenever I touch my chin just so, it is a
sign that Leannot speak upon the topic which happens to occupy your
attention. I must settle signals of correspondence with you, because you
are to be my confidant and my counsellor, only you are to know nothing
whatever of my affairs."
" Nothing can be more reasonable," I replied, laughing; " and the extent
of your confidence will, you may rely upon it, only be equalled by the sagacity of my counsels."
This sort of conversation brought us in the highest good-humour with each
other, to Osbaldistone-Hall, where we found the family far advanced in the
revels of the evening.
"Get some dinner for Mr. Osbaldistone and me in the library," said
Miss Vernon to a servant.-" I must have some compassion upon you," she
added, turning to me, " and provide against your starving in this mansion
of brutal abundance; otherwise I am not sure that I should show you my
private haunts. This same library is my den -the only corner of the
HIall-house where I'am safe from the Ourang-Outangs, my cousins. They
never venture there, I suppose, for fear the folios should fall down and crack
their skulls; for they will never affect their heads in any other way - So
follow me."
And I followed through hall and bower, vaulted passage and winding stair,
until we reached the room where she had ordered our refreshments.
In the wide pile, by others heeded not,
Hers was one sacred solitary spot,
Whose gloomy aisles and bending shelves contain
For moral hunger food, and cures for moral pain.
ANONYMOUs.
THE library at Osbaldistone-Hall was a gloomy room, whose antique
oaken shelves bent beneath the weight of the ponderous folios so dear to
the seventeenth century, from which, under favour be it spoken, we have
distilled matter for our quartos and octavos, and which, once more subjected
to the alembic, may, should our sons be yet more frivolous than ourselves,
be still farther reduced into duodecimos and pamphlets. The collection
was chiefly of the classics, as well foreign as ancient history, and, above all,
divinity. It. was in wretched order. The priests, who'in succession had
acted as chaplains at the Hall, were, for many years, the only persons who
entered its precincts, until Rashleigh's thirst for reading had led him to
disturb the venerable spiders, who had muffled- the fronts of the presses with