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.

376 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
head to rest before this awful visitation on my house and name! But IIis
will be done. I can say that yet, though I can say little mair."
"But, neighbour," said Saddletree, "ye'll retain advocates for the puir
lassie? it's a thing maun needs be thought of."
"-If there was ae man of them," answered Deans, "that held fast his
integrity-but I ken them weel, they are a' carnal, crafty, and warld-hunting
self-seekers, Yerastians, and Arminians, every ane o' them."
"Hout tout, neighbour, ye maunna take the warld at its word," said
Saddletree; " the very deil is no sae ill as he's ca'd; and I ken mair than ae
advocate that may be said to hae some integrity as weel as their neighbours;
that is, after a sort o' fashion o' their ain."
"It is indeed but a fashion of integrity that ye will find amang them,"
replied David Deans, " and a fashion of wisdom, and fashion of carnal
learning — gazing, glancing-glasses they are, fit only to fling the glaiks in
folk's een, wi' their pawky policy, and earthly ingine, their flights and refinements, and periods of eloquence, frae heathen emperors and popish canons.
They canna, in that daft trash ye were reading to me, sae muckle as ca' men
that are sae ill-starred as to be amang their hands, by ony name o' the dispensation o' grace, but maun new baptize them by the names of the accursed
Titus, wha was made the instrument of burning the holy Temple, and other
sic like heathens."
" It's Tishius," interrupted Saddletree, " and no Titus Mr. Crossmyloof
cares as little about Titus or the Latin as ye do.-But it's a case of necessity
- she maun hae counsel. Now, I could speak to Mr. Crossmylooff-he's
weel kend for a round-spun Presbyterian, and a ruling elder to boot."
"He's a rank Yerastian," replied Deans; "one of the public and polititious warldly-wise men that stude up to prevent ane general owning of the
cause in the day of p6wer."
"What say ye to the auld Laird of Cuffabout?" said Saddletree; "he
whiles thumps the dust out of a case gey and weel."
"He? the fause loon!" answered Deans -" he was in his bandaliers to
hae joined the ungracious Highlanders in 1715, an they had ever had the
luck to cross the Firth."
"Weel, Arniston? there's a clever chield for ye!" said Bartoline, triumphantly.
"Ay, to bring popish medals in till theirvery library from that schismatic
woman in the north, the Duchess of Gordon."
"Weel, weel, but somebody ye maun hae-What think ye o' Kittlepunt?"
" He's an Arminian."
" Woodsetter?"
"He's, I doubt, a Cocceian."
" Auld Whilliewhaw?"
"He's ony thing ye like."
"Young Nsemmo?"
" IIe's naething at a'."
"Ye're ill to please, neighbour," said Saddletree: "I hae run ower the
pick o' them for you, ye maun e'en choose for yoursell; but bethink ye
that in the multitude of counsellors there's safety. -What say ye to try
young Mackenyie? he has a' his uncle's Practiques at the tongue's end."
"What, sir, wad ye speak to me," exclaimed the sturdy presbyterian in
excessive wrath, " about a man that has the blood of the saints at his fingers'
ends? Didna his eme die and gang to his place wi' the name of the Bluidy
Mackenyie? and winna he be kend by that name sae lang as there's a Scots
tongue to speak the word? If the life of the dear bairn that's under a suffering dispensation, and Jeanie's, and my ain, and a' mankind's, depended
on my asking sic a slave o' Satan to speak a word for me or them, they
should a' gae down the water thegither for Davie Deans!"
It was the exalted tone in which he spoke this last sentence that broke