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. r175
Glasgow- do you come and see me in the glens, and it's like I may pleasure you, and stead your father in his extremity. I am but a poor man;
but wit's better than wealth — and, cousin," (turning from me to address
Mr. Jarvie) "if ye daur venture sae muckle as to eat a dish of Scotch
collops, and a leg o' red-deer venison wi' me, come ye wi' this Sassenach
gentleman as far as Drymen or Bucklivie, - or the Clachan of Aberfoil will
be better than ony o' them,-and I'll hae somebody waiting to weise ye the
gate to the place where I may be for the time-What say ye, man? There's
my thumb, "I'll ne'er beguile thee."
"Na, na, Robin," said the cautious burgher, "I seldom like to leave the
Gorbals; I have nae freedom to gang among your wild hills, Robin, and
your kilted red-shanks -it disna become my place, man."
" The devil damn your place and you baith!" reiterated Campbell. "The
only drap o' gentle bluid that's in your body was our great grand-uncle's
that was justified at Dumbarton, and you set yourself up to say ye wad
derogate frae your place to visit me! Hark thee, man —I owe thee a day
in harst —I'll pay up your thousan pund Scots, plack and bawbee, gin
ye'll be an honest fallow for anes, and just daiker up the gate wi' this
Sassenach."
" Hout awa' wi' your gentility," replied the Bailie; " carry your gentle
bluid- to the Cross, and see what ye'll buy wi't. But, if I were to come,
wad ye really and soothfastly pay me the siller?"
"~' I swi hear to ye," said the Highlander, "upon the halidome of him that
sleeps beneath the grey stane at Inch-Cailleach."*
" Say nae mair, Robin - say- nae mair - We'll see what may be dune.
But ye maunna expect me to gang ower the Highland line - I'll gae beyond
the line at no rate. Ye maun meet me about Bucklivie or the Clachan of
Aberfoil, - and dinna forget the needful."
"Nae fear-nae fear," said Campbell; "Pl be as true as the steel blade
that never failed its master. But I must be budging, cousin, for the air o'
Glasgow tolbooth is no that ower salutary to a Highlander's constitution."
" Troth," replied the merchant, " and if my duty were to be dune, ye
couldna change your atmosphere, as the minister ca's it, this ae wee while.
Ochon, that I sud ever be. concerned in aiding and abetting an escape
fiae justice! it will be a shame and disgrace to me and mine, and my very
father's memory, for ever."
"Hout tout, man! let that flee stick in the wa'," answered his kinsman;
"when the dirt's dry it will rub out - Your father, honest man, could look
ower a friend's fault as weel as anither."
" Ye may be right, Robin," replied the Bailie, after a moment's reflection;
" he was a considerate man the deacon; he ken'd we had a' our frailties,
and he lo'ed his friends — Ye'll no hae forgotten him, Robin?" This question he put in a softened tone, conveying as much at least of the ludicrous
as the pathetic.
"Forgotten him!" replied his kinsman —"what suld ail me to forget
him? —a wapping weaver he was, and wrought my first pair o.' hose. -
But come awa', kinsman,
Come fill up my cap, come fill up my cann,
Come saddle my horses, and call up my mall;
Come open your gates, and let me gae free,
I daurna stay langer in bonny Dundee."
"Whisht, sir!" said the magistrate, in an authoritative tone - "lilting
and singing sae near the latter end o' the Sabbath! This house may hear
ye sing anither tune yet - Aweel, we hae a' backslidings to answer for -
Stanchells, open the door."
* Inch-Cailleach is an island in Lochlomond, where the clan of MacGregor were wont to be interred, and
where their sepulchres may still be seen. It formerly contained a nunnery; hence the nanle Inch-Cailleach,
or the island of Old Women.