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.

580 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
own weapon, a foolish engine, which children are wont, in their roguery, to
use for spouting water; - a - in sliort I forget the nale."
"A squirt, doubtless," said Peveril, who began to recollect having heard
something of this adventure.
"'You are right," said the dwarf; "you have indeed the name of the
little engine, of which I have had experience in passing the yards at Westminster. - Well, sir, this token of slight regard compelled me to give the
gentlema.n such language, as soon rendered it necessary for him to take
more serious arms. We fought on horseback -breaking ground, and advancing by signal; and, as I never miss aim, I had the misadventure to kill
the Honourable Master Crofts at the first shot. I would not wish my worst
fde the pain which I felt, when I saw him reel on his saddle, and so fall
down to the earth!-and, when I perceived that the life blood was pouring
fast, I could not but wish to Heaven that it had been my own instead of
his. Thus fell youth, hopes, and bravery, a sacrifice to a silly and thoughtless jest; yet, alas! wherein had I choice, seeing that honour is, as it were,
the very breath in our nostrils; and that in no sense can we be said to live,
if we permit ourselves to be deprived of it?"
The tone of feeling in which the dwarfish hero concluded his story, gave
Julian a better opinion of his heart, and even of his understanding, than
ha had been able to form of one who gloried in having, upon a grand occasion, formed the contents of a pasty. He was indeed enabled to conjecture
that the little champion was seduced into such exhibitions, by the necessity
attached to his condition, by his own vanity, and by the flattery bestowed
on him by those who sought pleasure in practical jokes. The fate of the
unlucky Master Crofts, however, as well as various exploits of this diminutive person during the Civil Wars, in which he actually, and with great
gallantry, commanded a troop of horse, rendered most men cautious of
openly rallying him; which was indeed the less necessary, as, when left
alone, he seldom failed voluntarily to show himself on the ludicrous side.
At one hour after noon, the turnkey, true to his word, supplied the prisoners with a very tolerable dinner and a flask of well-flavoured, though light
claret; which the old man, who was something of a bon-vivant, regretted
to observe, was nearly as diminutive as himself. The evening also passed
away, but not without continued symptoms of garrulity on the part of
Geoffrey Hudson.
It is true these were of a graver character than he had hitherto exhibited,
for when the flask was empty, he repeated a long Latin prayer. But the
religious act in which he had been engaged, only gave his discourse a
more serious turn than belonged to his former themes, of war, lady's love,
and courtly splendour.
The little Knight harangued, at -first on polemical points of divinity, and
diverged from this thorny path, into the neighbouring and twilight walk of
mysticism. He talked of secret warnings -of the predictions of sad-eyed
prophets -of the visits of monitory spirits, and the Rosicrucian secrets of
the Cabala; all which topics he treated of with such apparent conviction,
nay, with so many appeals to personal experience, that one would have
supposed him a member of the fraternity of gnomes, or fairies, whom' he
resembled so much in point of size.
In short, he persevered for a stricken hour in such a torrent of unnecessary tattle, as determined Peveril, at all events, to endeavour to procure a
separate lodging. Having repeated his evening prayers in Latin, as
formerly, (for the old gentlernan was a Catholic, which was the sole cause
of his falling under suspicion,) he set off on a new score, as they were un
dressing, and continued to prattle until he had fairly talked both himself
and his contpanion to sleep.