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.

582. WAVERLEY NOVELS.
ear, that it was a clever thing to be a Scotchwoman: " She supposed all
her sisters, and she had half a dozen, might have been hanged, without any
one sending her a present of a pocket handkerchief."
"Or without your making any exertion to save them, Mrs. Dolly," answered Archibald dryly. -" But I am surprised we do not hear the bell
yet," said he, looking at his watch.
"Fat ta deil, Mr. Archibald," answered the Captain of Knockdunder,
"wad ye hae them ring the bell before I am ready to gang to kirk?-I wad
gar the bedral eat the bell-rope, if he took ony sic freedom. But if ye want
to hear the bell, I will just show mysell on the knowe-head, and it will
begin jowing forthwith."
Accordingly, so soon as they sallied out, and that the gold-laced hat of
the Captain was seen rising like Hesper above the dewy verge of the rising
ground, the clash (for it was rather a clash than a clang) of the bell was
heard from the old moss-grown tower, and the clapper continued to thump
its cracked sides all the while they advanced towards the kirk, Duncan
exhorting them to take their own time, " for teil ony sport wad be till he
came.'
Accordingly, the bell only changed to the final and impatient chime when
they crossed the stile; and "rang in," that is, concluded its mistuned summons, when they had entered the Duke's seat, in the little kirk, where the
whole party arranged themselves, with Duncan at their head, excepting
David Deans, who already occupied a seat among the elders.
The business of the day, with a particular detail of which it is unnecessary to trouble the reader, was gone through according to the established
form, and the sermon pronounced upon the occasion had, the good fortune to please even the critical David Deans, though it was only an hour
and a quarter long, which David termed a short allowance of spiritual
provender.
The preacher, who was a divine that held many of David's opinions,
privately apologized for his brevity by saying, "That he observed the Captain was gaunting grievously, and that if he had detained him longer, there
was no knowing how long he might be in paying the next term's victual
stipend."
David groaned to find that such carnal motives could have, influence upon
the mind of a powerful preacher. He had, indeed, been scandalized by
another circumstance during the service.
So soon as the congregation were seated after prayers, and the clergyman
had read his text, the gracious Duncan, after rummaging the leathern purse
which hung in front of his petticoat, produced a short tobacco-pipe made
of iron, and observed, almost aloud, " I hae forgotten my spleuchan-Lachlan, gang down to the clachan, and bring me up a pennyworth of twist."
Six arms, the nearest within reach, presented, with an obedient start, as
many tobacco-pouches to the man of office. He made choice of one with a
* in the old days of Scotland, when persons of property (unless they happened to be non-jurors) were as
regular as their Inferiors in attendance on parochial worship, there was a kind of etiquette, in waiting till
the patron or acknowledged great man of the parish should make his appearance. This ceremonial was so
sacred in the eyes of a parish beadle in the Isle of Bute, that the kirk bell being out of order, he is said to
have mounted the steeple every Sunday, to imitate with his voice the successive summonses which its mouth
of metal used to send forth. The first part of this imitative harmony was simply the repetition of the words
Bell, bell, bell, bell, two or three times, in a manner as much resembling the sound as throat of flesh could
imitate throat of iron. Bellum! bellum! was sounded forth in a more urgent manner; but he never sent
forth the third and conclusive peal, the varied tone of which is called in Scotland the ranging-in, until the
two principal heritors of the parish approached, when the chime ran thus:Bellum Bellelum,
Bernera and Knockdow's coming!
Bellum Bellelum,
Bernlera and Kuoc'kdow's coming!
Thereby intimating that service was instantly to proceed.
[Mr. Mackinlay of Borrowstonness, a native of Bute, states that Sir W. Scott had this story from Sir Adam
Ferguson; but that the gallant knight had not given the laird's titles correctly —the bellman's great men
being "Craich, Drumbuie, and Barnernie t!" —182.]