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.

218 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
ing air, and the glorious beams of the rising sun, which, fromn a talbernacle
of purple and golden clouds, were darted full on such a scene of natural
romance and beauty as had never before greeted my eyes. To the left lay
the valley, down which the Forth wandered on its easterly course, surrounding the beautiful detached hill, with all its garland of woods. On the right,
amid a profusion of thickets, knolls, and crags, lay the bed of a broad mountain lake, lightly curled into tiny waves by the breath of the morning breeze,
each glittering in its course under the influence of the sunbeams. High
hills, rocks, and banks, waving with natural forests of birch and oak, formed
the borders of this enchanting sheet of water; and, as their leaves rustled
to the wind and twinkled in the sun, gave to the depth of solitude a sort of
life and vivacity. Man alone seemed to be placed in a state of inferiority,
in a scene where all the ordinary features of nature were raised and exalted.
The miserable little boutrocks, as the Bailie termed them, of which about a
dozen formed the village called the Clachan of Aberfoil, were composed of
loose stones, cemented by clay instead of mortar, and thatched by turfs, laid
rudely upon rafters formed of native and unhewn birches and oaks from the
woods around. The roofs approached the ground so nearly, that Andrew
Fairservice observed we might have ridden over the village the night before,
and never found out we were near it, unless our horses' feet had "gane
through the riggin'."
From all we could see, Mrs. MacAlpine's house, miserable as were the
quarters it afforded, was still by far the best in the hamlet; and I dare say
(if my description gives you any curiosity to see it) you will hardly find
it much improved at the present day, for the Scotch are not a people
who speedily admit innovation, even when it comes in the shape of improvement.*
The inhabitants of these miserable dwellings were disturbed by the noise
of our departure; and as our party of about twenty soldiers drew up in rank
before marching off, we were reconnoitred by many a beldam from the half:
opened door of her cottage. As these sibyls thrust forth their grey heads,
imperfectly covered with close caps of flannel, and showed their shrivelled
brows, and long skinny arms, with various gestures, shrugs, and muttered
expressions in Gaelic addressed to each other, my imagination recurred to
th'e witches of Macbeth, and I imagined I read in the features of these crones
the malevolence of the weird sisters. The little children also, who began
to crawl forth, some quite naked, and others very imperfectly covered with
tatters of tartan stuff, clapped their tiny hands, and grinned at the English
soldiers, with an expression of national hate and malignity which seemed
beyond their years. I remarked particularly that there were no men, nor
so much as a boy of ten or twelve years old, to be seen among the inhabitants of a village which seemed populous in proportion to its extent; and
the idea certainly occurred to me, that we were likely to receive from them,
in the'course of our journey, more effectual tokens of ill-will than those
which lowered on the visages, and dictated the murmurs, of the women and
children.
It was not until we commenced our march that the malignity of the elder
persons of the community broke.forth into expressions. The last file of men
had left the village, to pursue a small broken track, formed by the sledges
in which the natives transported their peats and turfs, and which led through
the woods that fringed the lower end of the lake, when a shrilly sound of
female exclamation broke forth, mixed with the screams of children, the
* I do not know how this might stand in Mr. Osbaldistone's day, but I can assure the reader, whose curiosity may lead him to visit the scenes of these romantic adventures, that the Clachan of Aberfoil now affords
a very comfortable inn. If he chances to'be a Scottish antiquary, it will be an additional recommendation to
him, that he will find himself in the vicinity of the Rev. Dr. Patrick Grahanme, minister of the gospel at Aherfoil, whose urbanity in communicating insormation on the subject of national antiquities, is scarce exceeded
even by the stores of legendary lore which he has accumulated.-Orig. Note. The respectable clergyman
allUded to has been dead for some years.