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.

OLD MO RTALITY. 425
stood upon the table at one end of the apartment, and at other times humming the lively Scottish air,
Between Saint Johnstone and Bonny Dundee
I'11l gar ye be fain to follow me.
Jenny Dennison cautioned her mistress once more to let her take her own
way.
" I can manage the trooper weel eneugh," she said, " for as rough as he
is —I ken their nature weel; but ye maunna say a single word."
She accordingly opened the door of the gallery just as the sentinel had
turned his back from it, and taking up the tune which he hummed, she
sung in a coquettish tone of rustic raillery,
If I were to follow a poor sodger lad,
My friends wad be angry, my mlinnie be mad;
A laird, or a lord, they were fitter for me,
Sae I'll never )be fain to follow thee. —
"A fair challenge, by Jove," cried the sentinel, turning round, "and from
two at once; but it's not easy to bang the soldier with his bandoleers;"
then taking up the song where the damsel had stopt,
To follow me ye weel may be glad,
A share of mly supper, a share of my bed,
To the sound of the drum to range fearless and free,
I'll gar ye be fain to follow me. -
" Come, my pretty lass, and kiss me for my song."'
"I should not have thought of that, Ir. Halliday," answered Jenny,,
with a look and tone expressing just the necessary degree of contempt at
the proposal, " and, I'se assure ye, ye'll hae but little o' lmy company unless
ye show gentler havings - It wasna to hear that sort o' nonsense that
brought me here wi' my friend, and ye should think shame o' yoursell,'at
should ye."
" Umph! and what sort of nonsense did bring you here then, Mrs. Dennison?"
" My kinswoman has some particular business with your prisoner; young
Mr. Harry Morton, and I am come wi' her to speak till him."
" The devil you are!" answered the sentinel. " And pray, Mrs.. Dennison, how do your kinswoman and you propose to get in? You are rather
too plump to whisk through a keyhole, and opening the door is a thing not
to be spoke of."
" It's no a thing to be spoken o', but a thing to be dune," replied the persevering damsel.
"We'll see about that, my bonny Jenny;" and the soldier resumed his
march, humming, as he walked to and fro along the gallery,
Keek into the draw-well,
Janet, Janet,
Then ye'll see your bonny sell,
My joe Janet.
"So ye're no thinking to let us in, Mr. Halliday? WTeel, weel; gude e'en
to ye-ye hae seen the last o' me, and o' this bonny die too," said Jenny,
holding between her finger and thumb a splendid silver dollar.
"Give him gold, give him gold," whispered the agitated young lady.
"Silver's e'en ower gude for the like o' him," replied Jenny, "that disna
care for the blink o' a bonny lassie's ee -and what's waur, he wad think
there was something mair in't than a kinswoman o' mine. My certy!
siller's no sae plenty wi' us, let alane gowd." Having addressed this advice
aside to her mistress, she raised her voice and said, " My cousin winna stay
ony langer, Mr. Halliday; sae, if ye please, gude e'en t'ye."
"Halt a bit, halt a bit," said the trooper; "rein up and parley, Jenny.
If I let your kin:vwoman in to speak to my prisoner, you must stay here
and keep me company till she come out again, and then we'll all be well
pleased, you know."
2L2