The Antiquary — Complete

had given him over the young sportsman: One word more, Hector, and

We'll hang a seal-skin on thy recreant limbs.

Aha, my boy! Come, never mind it; I must go to business.—Bailie, a word with you: you must take bail— moderate bail, you understand—for old Ochiltree's appearance.'

'You don't consider what you ask,' said the Bailie; 'the offence is assault and robbery.'

'Hush! not a word about it,' said the Antiquary. 'I gave you a hint before—I will possess you more fully hereafter—I promise you, there is a secret.'

'But, Mr. Oldbuck, if the state is concerned, I, who do the whole drudgery business here, really have a title to be consulted, and until I am'—

'Hush! hush!' said the Antiquary, winking and putting his finger to his nose,—'you shall have the full credit, the entire management, whenever matters are ripe. But this is an obstinate old fellow, who will not hear of two people being as yet let into his mystery, and he has not fully acquainted me with the clew to Dousterswivel's devices.'

'Aha! so we must tip that fellow the alien act, I suppose?'

'To say truth, I wish you would.'

'Say no more,' said the magistrate; 'it shall forthwith be done—he shall be removed tanquam suspect—I think that's one of your own phrases, Monkbarns?'

'It is classical, Bailie—you improve.'

'Why, public business has of late pressed upon me so much, that I have been obliged to take my foreman into partnership. I have had two several correspondences with the Under Secretary of State—one on the proposed tax on Riga hemp-seed, and the other on putting down political societies. So you might as well communicate to me as much as you know of this old fellow's discovery of a plot against the state.'

'I will, instantly, when I am master of it,' replied Oldbuck—-'I hate the trouble of managing such matters myself. Remember, however, I did not say decidedly a plot against the state I only say I hope to discover, by this man's means, a foul plot.'

'If it be a plot at all, there must be treason in it, or sedition at least,' said the Bailie—'Will you bail him for four hundred merks?'

'Four hundred merks for an old Blue-Gown! Think on the act 1701 regulating bail-bonds!—Strike off a cipher from the sum—I am content to bail him for forty merks.'

'Well, Mr. Oldbuck, everybody in Fairport is always willing to oblige you—and besides, I know that you are a prudent man, and one that would be as unwilling to lose forty, as four hundred merks. So I will accept your bail, meo periculo—what say you to that law phrase again? I had it from a learned counsel. I will vouch it, my lord, he said, meo periculo.'

'And I will vouch for Edie Ochiltree, meo periculo, in like manner,' said Oldbuck. 'So let your clerk draw out the bail-bond, and I will sign it.'

When this ceremony had been performed, the Antiquary communicated to Edie the joyful tidings that he was once more at liberty, and directed him to make the best of his way to Monkbarns House, to which he himself returned with his nephew, after having perfected their good work.

CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.

Full of wise saws and modern instances.

As You Like It.

'I wish to Heaven, Hector,' said the Antiquary, next morning after breakfast, 'you would spare our nerves, and not be keeping snapping that arquebuss of yours.'

'Well, sir, I'm sure I'm sorry to disturb you,' said his nephew, still handling his fowling-piece;—'but it's a capital gun—it's a Joe Manton, that cost forty guineas.'

'A fool and his money are soon parted, nephew—there is a Joe Miller for your Joe Manton,' answered the Antiquary; 'I am glad you have so many guineas to throw away.'

'Every one has their fancy, uncle,—you are fond of books.'

'Ay, Hector,' said the uncle, 'and if my collection were yours, you would make it fly to the gunsmith, the horse-market, the dog-breaker,— Coemptos undique nobiles libros—mutare loricis Iberis.'

'I could not use your books, my dear uncle,' said the young soldier, 'that's true; and you will do well to provide for their being in better hands. But don't let the faults of my head fall on my heart—I would not part with a Cordery that belonged to an old friend, to get a set of horses like Lord Glenallan's.'

'I don't think you would, lad—I don't think you would,' said his softening relative. 'I love to tease you a little sometimes; it keeps up the spirit of discipline and habit of subordination—You will pass your time happily here having me to command you, instead of Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in Arms,' as Milton has it; and instead of the French,' he continued, relapsing into his ironical humour, 'you have the Gens humida ponti—for, as Virgil says,

Sternunt se somno diversae in littore phocae; 
which might be rendered, 
Here phocae slumber on the beach, 
Within our Highland Hector's reach.

Nay, if you grow angry, I have done. Besides, I see old Edie in the court-yard, with whom I have business. Good-bye, Hector—Do you remember how she splashed into the sea like her master Proteus, et se jactu dedit aequor in altum?'

M'Intyre,—waiting, however, till the door was shut,—then gave way to the natural impatience of his temper.

'My uncle is the best man in the world, and in his way the kindest; but rather than hear any more about that cursed phoca, as he is pleased to call it, I would exchange for the West Indies, and never see his face again.'

Miss M'Intyre, gratefully attached to her uncle, and passionately fond of her brother, was, on such occasions, the usual envoy of reconciliation. She hastened to meet her uncle on his return, before he entered the parlour.

'Well, now, Miss Womankind, what is the meaning of that imploring countenance?—has Juno done any more mischief?'