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.

128 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
-it, but his present state of mind inducing him to avoid society, he kept aloof
from the more frequented walks towards Westminster and Whitehall, and
drew to the north, or, as we should now say, the Piccadilly verge of the enclosure, believing he might there enjoy, or rather combat, his own thoughts
unmolested.
In this, however, Lord Glenvarloch was mistaken; for, as he strolled
slowly along with his arms folded in his cloak, and his hat drawn over his
eyes, he was suddenly pounced upon by Sir Mungo Malagrowther, who,
either shunning or shunned, had retreated, or had been obliged to retreat,
to the same less frequented corner of the Park.
Nigel started when he heard the high, sharp, and querulous tones of the
knight's cracked voice, and was no less alarmed when he beheld his tall
thin figure hobbling towards him, wrapped in a threadbare cloak, on whose
surface ten thousand varied stains eclipsed cthe original scarlet, and having
his head surmounted with a well-worn beaver, bearing a black velvet band
for a chain, and a capon's feather for an ostrich plume.
Lord Glenvarloch would fain have made his escape, but, as our motto
intimates, a leveret had as little chance to free herself of an experienced
greyhound. Sir Mungo, to continue the simile, had long ago learnt to ruXn
cunning, and make sure of mouthing his game. So Nigel found himself
compelled to stand and answer the hackneyed question-" What news today?"
"Nothing extraordinary, I believe," answered the young nobleman,
attempting to pass on.'" Oh, ye are ganging to the French ordinary belive," replied the knight;
"' but it is early day yet-we will take a turn in the Park in the meanwhile
- it will sharpen your appetite."
So saying, he quietly. slipped his arm under Lord Glenvarloch's, in spite
of all the decent reluctance which his victim could exhibit, by keeping his
elbow close to his side; and having fairly grappled the prize, he proceeded
to take it in tow.
Nigel was sullen and silent, in hopes to shake off his unpleasant companion; but Sir Mungo was determined, that if he did not speak, he should
at least hear.
" Ye are bound for the ordinary, my lord?" said the cynic;- "weel, ye
canna do better-there is choice company there, and peculiarly selected, as
I am tauld, being, dootless, sic as it is desirable that young noblemen should
herd withal and your noble father wad have been blithe to see you keeping
such worshipful society."
"I believe," said Lord Glenvarloch, thinking himself obliged to say something, "that the society is as good as generally can be found in such places,
where the door can scarcely be shut against those who come to spend their
money.'
"Right, my lord - vera right," said his tormentor, bursting out into a
chuckling, but most discordant laugh. " These citizen chuffs and clowns
will press in amongst us, when there is but an inch of a door open. And
what remedy?-Just e'en this, that as their cash gives them confidence, we
should strip them of it. Flay them, my lord -singe them as the kitchen
wench does the rats, and then they winna long to come back again. - Ay,
ay — pluck them, plume them - and then the larded capons will not be for
flying so high a wing, my lord, among the goss-hawks and sparrow-hawks,
and the like."
And, therewithal, Sir Mungo fixed on Nigel his quick, sharp, gray eye,
watching the effect of his sarcasm as keenly as the surgeon, in a delicate
operation, remarks the progress of his anatomical scalpel.
Nigel, however willing to conceal his sensations, could not avoid gratifying his tormentor by wincing under the operation. I-e coloured with
vexation and anger; but a quarrel with Sir Mungo Malagrowther, would,