with belted brands ?"" Then, turning to the company, he proposed the "Health of Captain Waverley, a worthy friend of his kind neighbour and ally, the Baron of Bradwardine." "He is welcome hither," said one of the elders, "if he come from Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine." "I say nay to that," said an old man, who apparently did not mean to pledge the toast; "I say nay to that-While there is a green leaf in the forest, there will be fraud in a Comyne." 66 "There is nothing but honour in the Baron of Bradwardine," answered another ancient; and the guest that comes hither from him should be welcome, though he came with blood on his hand, unless it were blood of the race of Ivor." The old man whose cup remained full, replied, "There has been blood enough of the race of Ivor on the hand of Bradwardine." "Ah! Ballenkeiroch," replied the first; "you think rather of the flash of the carbine at the Mains of Tully-Veolan, than the glance of the sword that fought for the cause at Preston." "And well I may," answered Ballenkeiroch; the flash of the gun cost me a fair-haired son, and the glance of the sword has done but little for King James." 66 The Chieftain, in two words of French, explained to Waverley, that the Baron had shot this old man's son in a fray near TullyVeolan about seven years before; and then hastened to remove Ballenkeiroch's prejudice, by informing him that Waverley was an Englishman, unconnected by birth or alliance with the family of Bradwardine; upon which the old gentleman raised the hitherto untasted cup, and courteously drank to his health. This ceremony being requited in kind, the Chieftain made a signal for the pipes to cease, and said, aloud, “Where is the song hidden, my friends, that Mac-Murrough cannot find it?" Mac-Murrough, the family bhairdh, an aged man, immediately took the hint, and began to chant, with low and rapid utterance, a profusion of Celtic verses, which were received by the audience with all the applause of enthusiasm. As he advanced in his declamation, his ardour seemed to increase. He had at first spoken with his eyes fixed on the ground; he now cast them around as if beseeching, and anon as if commanding attention, and his tones rose into wild and impassioned notes, accompanied with appropriate gestures. He seemed to Edward, who attended to him with much interest, to recite many proper names, to lament the dead, to apostrophize the absent, to exhort, and entreat, and animate those who were present. Waverley thought he even discerned his own name, and was convinced his conjecture was right, from the eyes of the company being at that moment turned towards him simultaneously. The ardour of the poet appeared to communicate itself to the audience. Their wild and sun-burnt countenances assumed a fiercer and more animated expression; all bent forward towards the reciter, many sprung up and waved their arms in ecstasy, and some laid their hands on their swords. When the song ceased, there was a deep pause, while the aroused feelings of the poet and of the hearers gradually subsided into their usual channel. The Chieftain, who, during this scene, had appeared rather to watch the emotions which were excited, than to partake their high tone of enthusiasm, filled with claret a small silver cup which stood by him. "Give this," he said to an attendant, “to Mac-Murrough nan Fonn (i. e., of the songs), and when he has drunk the juice, bid him keep, for the sake of Vich Ian Vohr, the shell of the gourd which contained it." The gift was received by Mac-Murrough with profound gratitude; he drank the wine, and, kissing the cup, shrouded it with reverence in the plaid which was folded on his bosom. He then burst forth into what Edward justly supposed to be an extemporaneous effusion of thanks, and praises of his Chief. It was received with applause, but did not produce the effect of his first poem. It was obvious, however, that the clan regarded the generosity of their Chieftain with high approbation. Many approved Gaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of which the Chieftain gave his guest the following versions:- 66 "To him that will not turn his back on friend or foe." "To him that never forsook a comrade." "To him that never bought or sold justice." Hospitality to the exile, and broken bones to the tyrant." "The lads with the kilts." "Highlanders, shoulder to shoulder!"-with many other pithy sentiments of the like nature. Edward was particuliarly solicitous to know the meaning of that song which appeared to produce such effect upon the passions of the company, and hinted his curiosity to his host. "As I observe," said the Chieftain, "that you have passed the bottle during the last three rounds, I was about to propose to you to retire to my sister's tea-table, who can explain these things to you better than I can. Although I cannot stint my clan in the usual current of their festivity, yet I neither am addicted myself to exceed in its amount, nor do I," added he smiling, "keep a Bear to devour the intellects of such as can make good use of them." Edward readily assented to this proposal, and the Chieftain, saying a few words to those around him, left the table, followed by Waverley. As the door closed behind them, Edward heard Vich Ian Vohr's health invoked with a wild and animated cheer, that expressed the satisfaction of the guests, and the depth of their devotion to his service. CHARLES LAMB: 1775-1834. Moral Courage. Ar the desk of the treasurer of the old Bath theatre, presented herself the little Barbara S The parents of Barbara had been in good circumstances. The father had practised, I believe, as an apothecary in the town. But his practice, from various causes, was now reduced to nothing. They were, in fact, in the very teeth of starvation, when the manager, who knew and respected them in better days, took the little Barbara into his company. Her slender earnings were the sole support of the family, including two younger sisters. Her Saturday's pittance was the only chance of a Sunday's meal of meat. One thing I will only mention, that in some child's part, where in her theatrical character she was to sup off a roast fowl, some comic actor, in the misguided humour of his part, threw over the dish such a quantity of salt, that when Barbara crammed a portion of it into her mouth, she was obliged sputteringly to reject it, and what with shame of her ill-acted part, and pain of real appetite at missing such a dainty, her little heart sobbed almost to breaking. At length a flood of tears, which the well-fed spectators were totally unable to understand, mercifully relieved her. This was the little, starved, meritorious, maid who stood before old Ravenscroft, the treasurer, for her Saturday's payment. Ravenscroft was a man-I have heard many besides herself say—of all men least fitted for a treasurer. He had no head for accounts, paid away at random, kept scarce any books, and summing up at the week's end, if he found himself a pound or so short, blest himself that it was no worse. Now, Barbara's weekly fee was a half-guinea. By mistake, he popped into her hand-a whole one. Barbara tripped away. She was entirely unconscious at first of the mistake; but when she had got down to the first landing-place, she became sensible of an unusual weight of metal pressing her little hand. Now, mark the struggle ! This little maid was by nature a good child. She had no instinct to evil, but then she might be said to have no fixed principle. She had heard honesty praised, but never dreamt of its application to herself. She thought of it as something which concerned grown-up people-men and women. She had never known temptation, or thought of preparing herself against it. Her first impulse was to go back to the old treasurer, and explain to him his blunder. He was already so confused with age, that she would have had some difficulty in making him understand it. She saw that in an instant. And then it was such a bit of money! And then the image of a larger allowance of butcher's meat on their table next day came across her, till her little eyes glistened, and her mouth moistened. But then Mr. Ravenscroft had always been so good-natured, had stood her friend behind the scenes, and even recommended her promotion to some of her little parts. But again, the old man was reputed to be worth a world of money. He was supposed to have fifty pounds a year clear of the theatre. And then came staring to her the figures of her little stockingless and shoeless sisters. And then she looked at her own neat white cotton stockings, which her situation at the theatre had made it necessary for her mother to provide for her, with hard straining and pinching from the family stock, and thought how glad she should be to cover their poor feet with the same; and how then they could accompany her to rehearsals, which they had hitherto been precluded from doing by reason of their unfashionable attire. With these thoughts she began to return. Now, Virtue, support Barbara! And that never-failing friend did step in; for at that moment a strength not her own, I have heard her say, was revealed to her. She found herself transported back to the individual desk she had just quitted, and her hand slipt into the old hand of Ravenscroft, who in silence took back the money. He had been sitting, good man, insensible to the lapse of minutes which to her were anxious ages. From that moment a deep peace fell upon Barbara's heart, and she knew the quality of honesty. JANE AUSTEN. 1775-1817. The Voluble Lady. MISS BATES and Miss Fairfax, escorted by the two gentlemen, walked into the room. Everybody's words were soon lost under the incessant flow of Miss Bates, who came in talking, and had not finished her speech under many minutes after her being admitted into the circle at the fire. As the door opened she was heard, "So very obliging of you! No rain at all. I do not care for myself. Quite thick shoes. Nothing to signify. -Well! (as soon as she was within the door) well! This is brilliant indeed! This is admirable! Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing wanting! Could not have imagined it. So well lighted up! Jane, Jane, look! did you ever see anything? Oh! Mr. Weston, you must really have had Aladdin's lamp. Good Mrs. Stokes would not know her own room again. Supper was announced. The move began; and Miss Bates might be heard from that moment without interruption, till her being seated at table and taking up her spoon. 66 Jane, Jane, my dear Jane, where are you? Here is your tippet. Mrs. Weston begs you to put on your tippet. She says she is afraid there will be draughts in the passage, though everything has been done-one door nailed up-quantities of matting -my dear Jane, indeed you must. Mr. Churchill, oh! you are too obliging!-How well you put it on!-so gratified! Excellent dancing indeed!- Yes, my dear, I ran home as I said I should, to help grandmamma to bed, and got back again, and nobody missed me. I set off without saying a word, just as I told you. Grandmamma was quite well, had a charming evening with Mr. Woodhouse, a vast deal of chat, and backgammon. Tea was made downstairs, biscuits and baked apples and wine before she came away; amazing luck in some of her throws; and she inquired a great deal about you, how you were amused, and who were your partners. Oh! said I, 'I shall not forestall Jane; I left her dancing with Mr. George Otway; she will love to tell you all about it herself to-morrow; her first partner was Mr. Elton: I do not know who will ask her next, perhaps Mr. William |