The verses were inscribed,
To an Oak Tree
In the Churchyard of ⸻, in the Highlands of Scotland, said to mark the Grave of Captain Wogan, killed in .
Emblem of England’s ancient faith,
Full proudly may thy branches wave,
Where loyalty lies low in death,
And valour fills a timeless grave.And thou, brave tenant of the tomb!
Repine not if our clime deny,
Above thine honour’d sod to bloom
The flowerets of a milder sky.These owe their birth to genial May;
Beneath a fiercer sun they pine,
Before the winter storm decay;
And can their worth be type of thine?No! for, ’mid storms of Fate opposing,
Still higher swell’d thy dauntless heart,
And, while Despair the scene was closing,
Commenced thy brief but brilliant part.’Twas then thou sought’st on Albyn’s hill,
(When England’s sons the strife resign’d)
A rugged race resisting still,
And unsubdued though unrefined.Thy death’s hour heard no kindred wail,
No holy knell thy requiem rung;
Thy mourners were the plaided Gael,
Thy dirge the clamourous pibroch sung.Yet who, in Fortune’s summer-shine
To waste life’s longest term away,
Would change that glorious dawn of thine,
Though darken’d ere its noontide day!Be thine the tree whose dauntless boughs
Brave summer’s drought and winter’s gloom.
Rome bound with oak her patriots’ brows,
As Albyn shadows Wogan’s tomb.
Whatever might be the real merit of Flora MacIvor’s poetry, the enthusiasm which it intimated was well calculated to make a corresponding impression upon her lover. The lines were read—read again, then deposited in Waverley’s bosom, then again drawn out, and read line by line, in a low and smothered voice, and with frequent pauses which prolonged the mental treat, as an epicure protracts, by sipping slowly, the enjoyment of a delicious beverage. The entrance of Mrs. Cruickshanks with the sublunary articles of dinner and wine hardly interrupted this pantomime of affectionate enthusiasm.
At length the tall ungainly figure and ungracious visage of Ebenezer presented themselves. The upper part of his form, notwithstanding the season required no such defence, was shrouded in a large greatcoat, belted over his under habiliments, and crested with a huge cowl of the same stuff, which, when drawn over the head and hat, completely overshadowed both, and, being buttoned beneath the chin, was called a trot-cozy. His hand grasped a huge jockey-whip, garnished with brassmounting. His thin legs tenanted a pair of gambadoes, fastened at the sides with rusty clasps. Thus accoutred, he stalked into the midst of the apartment, and announced his errand in brief phrase: “Yer horses are ready.”
“You go with me yourself then, landlord?”
“I do, as far as Perth; where ye may be supplied with a guide to Embro’, as your occasions shall require.”
Thus saying, he placed under Waverley’s eye the bill which he held in his hand; and at the same time, self-invited, filled a glass of wine and drank devoutly to a blessing on their journey. Waverley stared at the man’s impudence, but, as their connection was to be short and promised to be convenient, he made no observation upon it; and, having paid his reckoning, expressed his intention to depart immediately. He mounted Dermid accordingly and sallied forth from the Golden Candlestick, followed by the puritanical figure we have described, after he had, at the expense of some time and difficulty, and by the assistance of a “louping-on-stane,” or structure of masonry erected for the traveller’s convenience in front of the house, elevated his person to the back of a long-backed, rawboned, thin-gutted phantom of a broken-down blood-horse, on which Waverley’s portmanteau was deposited. Our hero, though not in a very gay humour, could hardly help laughing at the appearance of his new squire, and at imagining the astonishment which his person and equipage would have excited at Waverley-Honour.
Edward’s tendency to mirth did not escape mine host of the Candlestick, who, conscious of the cause, infused a double portion of souring into the pharisaical leaven of his countenance, and resolved internally that, in one way or other, the young Englisher should pay dearly for the contempt with which he seemed to regard him. Callum also stood at the gate and enjoyed, with undissembled glee, the ridiculous figure of Mr. Cruickshanks. As Waverley passed him he pulled off his hat respectfully, and, approaching his stirrup, bade him “Tak heed the auld whig deevil played him nae cantrip.”
Waverley once more thanked and bade him farewell, and then rode briskly onward, not sorry to be out of hearing of the shouts of the children, as they beheld old Ebenezer rise and sink in his stirrups to avoid the concussions occasioned by a hard trot upon a half-paved street. The village of ⸻ was soon several miles behind him.
Part II
I
Shows That the Loss of a Horse’s Show May Be a Serious Inconvenience
The manner and air of Waverley, but, above all, the glittering contents of his purse, and the indifference with which he seemed to regard them, somewhat overawed his companion, and deterred him from making any attempts to enter upon conversation. His own reflections were moreover agitated by various surmises, and by plans of self-interest with which these were intimately connected. The travellers journeyed, therefore, in silence, until it was interrupted by the annunciation, on the part of the guide, that his “naig had lost a forefoot shoe, which, doubtless, his honour would consider it was his part to replace.”
This was what lawyers call a fishing question, calculated to ascertain how far Waverley was disposed to submit to petty imposition. “My part to replace your horse’s shoe, you rascal!” said Waverley, mistaking the purport of the intimation.
“Indubitably,” answered Mr. Cruickshanks; “though there was no preceese clause to that effect, it canna be expected that I am to pay for the casualties whilk may befall the puir naig while in your honour’s service. Nathless, if your honour—”
“O, you mean I am to pay the
