(craving your pardon once more) with a pier-glass upon his back."

"Ay," said Fergus, still in good humour, "he would have told you, if you had questioned him, a ganging foot is aye getting. But come, my dear Baron, you know as well as I, that a hundred Uhlans, or a single troop of Schmirschitz's Pandours, would make more havoc in a country than the knight of the mirror and all the rest of our clans put together."

"And that is very true likewise," said the Baron; "they are, as the heathen author says, ferociores in aspectu, mitiores in actu, of a horrid and grim visage, but more benign in demeanour than their physiog nomy or aspect might infer.-But I stand here talking to you two youngsters, when I should be in the King's Park."

"But you will dine with Waverley and me on your return? I assure you, Baron, though I can live like a Highlander when needs must, I remember my Paris educa

tion, and understand perfectly faire la meilleure chere."

"And wha the deil doubts it," quoth the Baron, laughing, "when you bring only the cookery, and the good town must furnish the materials ?-Well, I have some business in the town too: But I'll join you at three, if the vivers can tarry so long." So saying, he took leave of his friends, and went to look after the charge which had been assigned him.

CHAPTER XIX.

A Soldier's Dinner.

JAMES OF THE NEEDLE was a man of his word, when whiskey was no party to the contract; and upon this occasion Callum Beg, who still thought himself in Waverley's debt, since he had declined accepting compensation at the expence of mine Host of the Candlestick's person, took this opportunity of discharging the obligation, by mounting guard over the hereditary tailor of Slioch nan Ivor; and, as he expressed himself, targed him tightly till the finishing of the job. To rid himself of this restraint, Shemus's needle flew through the tartan like lightning; and as the artist kept chaunting some dreadful skirmish of Fin Macoul, he accomplished

at least three stitches to the death of every hero. The dress was, therefore, soon ready, for the short coat fitted the wearer, and the rest of the apparel required little adjustment.

When our hero fairly assumed the "garb of old Gaul," which was well calculated to give an appearance of strength to a figure, which, though tall and well-made, was rather elegant than robust, I hope my fair readers will excuse him if he looked at himself in the mirror more than once, and could not help acknowledging that the reflection seemed that of a very handsome young fellow. In fact, there was no disguising it. His light-brown hair, for he wore nó periwig, notwithstanding the universal fashion of the time, became the bonnet which surmounted it. His person promised firmness and agility, to which the ample folds of the tartan added an air of dignity. His blue eye seemed of that kind,

"Which melted in love, and which kindled in war."

And an air of bashfulness, which was in reality the effect of want of habitual inter course with the world, gave interest to his features, without injuring their grace or intelligence. "He's a pratty man; a very pratty man," said Evan Dhu (now Ensign Maccombich) to Fergus's buxom landlady.

“He's vera weel," said the Widow Flock hart, "but no naithing so well-far'd as your colonel, ensignassula v

"I was na comparing them," quoth Evan, "nor was I speaking about his being well-favoured; but only that Mr Waverley looks clean-made and deliver, and like a proper lad of his quarters, that will not cry barley in a brulzie. And, indeed, he's gleg aneuch at the broadsword and target. I hae played wi' him mysel at Glennaquoich, and sae has Vich Ian Vohr, often of a Sunday afternoon."

"Lord forgive ye, Ensign Maccombich, I'm sure the colonel wad never do the like o' that." ເຊົ້າ "Houthout! Mrs Flockhart, we're