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. 21
barns. A footpath leading over a heathy hill, and through two or three
meadows, conducted him to this mansion, which stood on the opposite side
of the hill aforesaid, and commanded a fine prospect of the bay and shipping
Secluded from the town by the rising ground, which also screened it from
the north-west wind, the house had a solitary and sheltered appearance.
The exterior had little to recommend it. It was an irregular old-fashioned
building, some part of which had belonged to a grange, or solitary farmhouse, inhabited by the bailiff, or steward, of the monastery, when the place
was in possession of the monks. It was here that the community stored
up the grain which they received as ground-rent from their vassals; for,
with the prudence belonging to their order, all their conventional revenues
were made payable in kind, and hence, as the present proprietor loved to
tell, came the name of Monkbarns. To the remains of the bailiff's house,
the succeeding lay inhabitants had made various additions in proportion to
the accommodation required by their families; and, as this was done with
an equal contempt of convenience within and architectural regularity without, the whole bore the appearance of a hamlet which had suddenly stood
still when in the act of leading down one of Amphion's, or Orpheus's,
country-dances. It was surrounded by tall clipped hedges of yew and
holly, some of which still exhibited the skill of the topmarian artist,* and
presented curious arm-chairs, towers, and the figures of Saint George and
the dragon. The taste of Mr. Oldbuck did not disturb these monuments
of an art now unknown, and he was the less tempted so to do, as it must
necessarily have broken the heart of the old gardener. One tall embowering holly was, however, sacred from the shears; and on a garden seat
beneath its shade, Lovel beheld his old friend, with spectacles on nose and
pouch on side, busily employed in perusing the London Chronicle, soothed
by the summer breeze through the rustling leaves, and the distant dash of
the waves as they rippled upon the sand.
Mr. Oldbuck immediately rose, and advanced to greet his travelling
acquaintance with a hearty shake of the hand. "By my faith," said he,
" I began to think you had changed your mind, and found the stupid people
of Fairport so tiresome, that you judged them unworthy of your talents,
and had taken French leave, as my old friend and brother-antiquary MacCribb did, when he went off with one of my Syrian medals."
"I hope, my good sir, I should have fallen under no such imputation."
" Quite as bad, let me tell you, if you had stolen yourself away, without
giving me the pleasure of seeing you. again. I had rather you had taken
my copper Otho himself. -But come, let me show you the way into my
sanctum sanctorum my cell I may call it, for, except two idle hussies of
womankind" (by this contemptuous phrase, borrowed from his brotherantiquary, the cynic Anthony a-wood, Mr. Oldbuck was used to denote the
fair sex in general, and his sister and niece in particular), " that, on some
idle pretext of relationship, have established themselves in my premises, I
live here as much a Ccenobite as my predecessor, John o' the Girnell, whose
grave I will show you by and by."
Thus speaking, the old gentleman led the way through a low door; but,
before entrance, suddenly stopped short to point out some vestiges of what
he called an inscription, and, shaking his head as he pronounced it totally
illegible, " Ah! if you but knew, Mr. Lovel, the time and trouble that these
mouldering traces of letters have cost me! No mother ever travailed so
for a child — and all to no purpose — although I am almost positive that
these two last marks imply the figures, or letters, LV, and may give us a
good guess at the real date of the building, since we know, aliunde, that it
was founded by Abbot Waldimir about the middle of the fourteenth century
* Ars Topiarza, the art of clipping yew hedges into fantastic figures. A Latin poem, entitled Ars Topiar,
contains a curious account of the process.