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.

THE ANTIQUARY.
jfla tf t tlt T r+
Go call a coach, and let a coach be called,
And let the man who calleth be the caller;
And in his calling let him nothing call,
But Coach! Coach! Coaclh! 0 for a coach, ye gods I
CnRONONHOTONTHOLOcGOS.
IT was early on a fine summer's day, near the end of the eighteenth century, when a young man, of genteel appearance, journeying towards the
north-east of Scotland, provided himself with a ticket in one of those public
carriages which travel between Edinburgh and the Queensferry, at which
place, as the name implies, and as is well known to all my northern readers,
there is a passage-boat for crossing the Frith of For;Jh. The coach was calculated to carry six regular passengers, besides such interlopers as the
coachman could pick up by the way, and intrude upon those who were
legally in possession. The tickets, which conferred right to seat in this
vehicle of little ease, were dispensed by a sharp-looking old dame, with a
pair of spectacles on a very thin nose, who inhabited a "laigh shop,"
anglice, a cellar, opening to the High Street by a straight and steep stair,
at the bottom of which she sold tape, thread, needles, skeins of worsted,
coarse linen cloth, and such feminine gear, to those who had the courage
and skill to descend to the profundity of her dwelling, without falling headlong themselves, or throwing down any of the numerous articles which,
piled on each side of the descent, indicated the profession of the trader
below.
The written hand-bill, which, pasted on a projecting board, announced
that the Queensferry Diligence, or Hawes Fly, departed precisely at twelve
o'clock on Tuesday, the fifteenth July, 17-, in order to secure for travellers
the opportunity of passing the Frith with the flood-tide, lied on the present
occasion like a bulletin; for although that hour was pealed from Saint
Giles's steeple, and repeated by the Tron, no coachl appeared upon the appointed stand. It is true, only two tickets had been taken out, and possibly
the lady of the subterranean mansion might have an understanding with.
her Automedon, that, in such cases, a little space was to be allowed for the
chance of filling up the vacant places-or the said Automedon might have
been attending a funeral, and be delayed by the necessity of stripping his
vehicle of its lugubrious trappings-or he might have staid to take a halfmutekin extraordinary with his crony the hostler —or-in short, he did not
make his appearance.
The young gentleman, who began to grow somewhat impatient, was now
joined by a companion in this petty misery of human life-the person who
had taken out the other place. He who is bent upon a journey is usually
easy to be distinguished from his fellow-citizens. ~The boots, the great-coat,
(I-l)