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.

408 WAVERLEY NOVELS..
light of the moon, with such accuracy as to ensure success to their expedition.
"What shall we do, Ratcliffe?" said Sharpitlaw; "if he sees us before
we see him,- and that's what he is certain to do, if we go strolling about,
without keeping the straight road,-we may bid gude-day to the job; and I
would rather lose one hundred pounds, baith for the credit of the police,
and because the Provost says somebody maun be hanged for this job o' Porteous, come o't what likes."
" I think," said Ratcliffe, " we maun just try Madge; and I'll see if I can
get her keepit in ony better order. And at ony rate, if he suld hear her
skirling her auld ends o' sangs, he's no to ken for that that there's ony body
wi' her."
"That's true," said Sharpitlaw; "and if he thinks her alone, he's as like
to come towards her as to rin frae her. So set forward -we hae lost ower
muckle time already-see to get her to keep the right road."
"And what sort o' house does Nichol Muschat and his wife keep now?"
said Ratcliffe to the madwoman, by way of humouring her vein of folly;
"they were but thrawn folk lang syne, an a' tales be true."
"Ou, ay, ay, ay-but a's forgotten now," replied Madge, in the confidential tone of a gossip giving the history of her next-door neighbour-" Ye
see, I spoke to them mysell, and tauld them byganes suld be byganes-her
throat's sair misguggled and mashackered though; she wears her corpsesheet drawn weel up to hide it, but that canna hinder the bluid seiping
through, ye ken. I wussed her to wash it in St. Anthony's Well, and that
will cleanse if onything can-But they say bluid never bleaches out o' linen
claith - Deacon Sanders's new cleansing draps winna do't - I tried them
mysell on a bit rag we hae at hame that was mailed wi' the bluid of a bit
skirling wean that was hurt some gate, but out it winna come - Weel, ye'll
say that's queer; but I will bring it out to St. Anthony's blessed Well some
braw night just like this, and I'll cry up Ailie Muschat, and she and I will
hae a grand bouking-washing, and bleach our claise in the beams of the
bonny Lady Moon, that's far pleasanter to me than the sun-the sun's ower
het, and ken ye, cunimers, my brains are het eneugh already. But the
moon, and the dew, and the night-wind, they are just like a callar kailblade laid on my brow; and whiles I think the moon just shines on purpose
to pleasure me, when naebody sees her but mysell."
This raving discourse she continued with prodigious volubility, walking
on at a great pace, and dragging Ratcliffe along with her, while lie endea-:voured, in appearance at least, if not in reality, to induce her to moderate
her voice.
All at once, she stopped short upon the top of a little hillock, gazed upward fixedly, and said not one word for the space of five minutes. " What
the devil is the matter with her now?" said Sharpitlaw to Ratcliffe - " Can
you not get her forward?"
"Ye maun just take a grain o' patience wi' her, sir," said Ratcliffe.
"She'll no gae a foot faster than she likes hersell."
"D —n her," said Sharpitlaw, " I'll take care she has her time in Bedlam
or Bridewell, or both, for she's both mad and mischieyous;"
In the meanwhile, Madge, who had looked very pensive when she first
stopped, suddenly burst into a vehement fit of laughter, then paused and
sighed bitterly,-then was seized with a second fit of laughter-then, fixing
her eyes on the moon, liftedi up her voice and sung," Good even, good fair moon, good even to thee;
1 prithee, dear moon, now show to me
The form and the features, the speech and degree,
Of the man that true lover of mine shall be.
But I need not ask that-of the bonny Lady Moon-I ken that weel eneugh
mysell-true-love though he wasna-But naebody shall sae that I ever tauld