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 FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 31
"Come, Jockey, out with it," continued lMaster George, observing that
the Scot, as usual with his countrymen, when asked a blunt, straightforward
question, took a little time before answering it.
"I am no more Jockey, sir, than you are John," said the stranger, as if
offended at being addressed by a name which at that time was used, as Sawney now is, for a general appellative of the Scottish nation. "My name,
if you must know it, is Richie Moniplies; and I come of the old and honourable house of Castle Collop, weel kend at the West-Port of Edinburgh."
" What is that you call the West-Port?" proceeded the interrogator.
"' Why, an it like your honour," said Richie, who now, having recovered
his senses sufficiently to observe the respectable exterior of Master George,
threw more civility into his manner than at first, " the West-Port is a gate
of our city, as yonder brick arches at Whitehall form the entrance of the
King's palace here, only that the West-Port is of stonern work, and mair
decorated with architecture and the policy of bigging."
" Nouns, man, the Whitehall gateways were planned by the great Holbein," answered Master George; "I suspect your accident has jumbled
your brains, my good friend. I suppose you will tell me next, you have at
Edinburgh as fine a navigable river as the Thames, with all its shipping?"
" The Thames 1" exclaimed Richie, in a tone of ineffable contempt-" God
bless your honour's judgment, we have at Edinburgh the Water-of-Leith and
the Nor-loch!"
"And the Pow-burn, and the Quarry-holes, and the Gusedub, fause loon!"
answered Master George, speaking Scotch with a strong and natural emphasis; "it is such landloupers as you, that, with your ialset and fair
fashions, bring reproach on our whole country."
"God forgie me, sir," said Richie, much surprised at finding the supposed
Southron converted into a native Scot., "I took your honour for an Englisher!
But I hope there was naething wrang in standing up for ane's ain country's
credit in a strange land, where all men cry her down."
"Do you call it for your country's credit, to show that she has a lying,
puffing rascal, for one of her children?" said Master George. "But come,
man, never look grave on it-as you have found a countryman, so you have
found a friend, if you deserve one-and specially if you answer me truly."
"I see nae gude it would do me to speak aught else but truth," said the
worthy North Briton.
" Well, then - to begin," said Master George, " I suspect you are a son
of old MIungo Moniplies, the ftesher, at the West-Port."
"Your honour is a witch, I think," said Richie, grinning.
"And how dared you, sir, to uphold him for a noble?"
"I dinna ken, sir," said IRichie, scratching his head; "I hear muckle of
an Earl of Warwick in these southern parts, - Guy, I think his name was,
-and he has great reputation here for slaying dun cows, and boars, and
such like; and I am sure my father has killed more cows and boars, not to
mention bulls, calves, sheep, ewes, lambs, and pigs, than the haill Baronage
of England."
"Go to! you are a shrewd knave," said Master George; "charm your
tongue, and take care of saucy answers. Your father was an honest
burgher, and the deacon of his craft: I am sorry to see his son in so poor
a coat."
"Indifferent, sir," said Richie Moniplies, looking down on his garments
-" very indifferent: but it is the wonted livery of poor burghers' sons in
our country - one of Luckie Want's bestowing upon us - rest us patient!
The King's leaving Scotland has taken all custom frae Edinburgh; and
there is hay made at the Cross, and a dainty crop of fouats in the Grassmarket. There is as much grass grows where my father's stall stood, as
might have been a good bite for the beasts he was used to kill."
" It is even too true," said Master George; " and while we make fortunes