refreshing your men at Cairnvreckan; whatever my house contains is at the command of persons employed in the service.’
‘It was not of creature-comforts I spake,’ answered the Covenanter, regarding Major Melville with something like a smile of contempt; ‘howbeit, I thank you; but the people remained waiting upon the precious Mr. Jabesh Rentowel for the out-pouring of the afternoon exhortation.’
‘And have you, sir,’ said the Major, ‘when the rebels are about to spread themselves through this country, actually left a great part of your command at a fieldpreaching?’
Gilfillan again smiled scornfully as he made this indirect answer — ‘Even thus are the children of this world wiser in their generation than the children of light!’
‘However, sir,’ said the Major, ‘as you are to take charge of this gentleman to Stirling, and deliver him, with these papers, into the hands of Governor Blakeney, I beseech you to observe some rules of military discipline upon your march. For example, I would advise you to keep your men more closely together, and that each in his march should cover his file-leader, instead of straggling like geese upon a common; and, for fear of surprise, I further recommend to you to form a small advance-party of your best men, with a single vidette in front of the whole march, so that when you approach a village or a wood’ — (here the Major interrupted himself) — ‘But as I don’t observe you listen to me, Mr. Gilfillan, I suppose I need not give myself the trouble to say more upon the subject. You are a better judge, unquestionably, than I am of the measures to be pursued; but one thing I would have you well aware of, that you are to treat this gentleman, your prisoner, with no rigour nor incivility, and are to subject him to no other restraint than is necessary for his security.’
‘I have looked into my commission,’ said Mr. Gilfillan,’ subscribed by a worthy and professing nobleman, William, Earl of Glencairn; nor do I find it therein set down that I am to receive any charges or commands anent my doings from Major William Melville of Cairnvreckan.’
Major Melville reddened even to the well-powdered ears which appeared beneath his neat military sidecurls, the more so as he observed Mr. Morton smile at the same moment. ‘Mr. Gilfillan,’ he answered, with some asperity, ‘I beg ten thousand pardons for interfering with a person of your importance. I thought, however, that as you have been bred a grazier, if I mistake not, there might be occasion to remind you of the difference between Highlanders and Highland cattle; and if you should happen to meet with any gentleman who has seen service, and is disposed to speak upon the subject, I should still imagine that listening to him would do you no sort of harm. But I have done, and have only once more to recommend this gentleman to your civility as well as to your custody. Mr. Waverley, I am truly sorry we should part in this way; but I trust, when you are again in this country, I may have an opportunity to render Cairnvreckan more agreeable than circumstances have permitted on this occasion.’
So saying, he shook our hero by the hand. Morton also took an affectionate farewell, and Waverley, having mounted his horse, with a musketeer leading it by the bridle and a file upon each side to prevent his escape, set forward upon the march with Gilfillan and his party. Through the little village they were accompanied with the shouts of the children, who cried out, ‘Eh! see to the Southland gentleman that’s gaun to be hanged for shooting lang John Mucklewrath, the smith!
Chapter VII
An Incident
The dinner hour of Scotland Sixty Years Since was two o’clock. It was therefore about four o’clock of a delightful autumn afternoon that Mr. Gilfillan commenced his march, in hopes, although Stirling was eighteen miles distant, he might be able, by becoming a borrower of the night for an hour or two, to reach it that evening. He therefore put forth his strength, and marched stoutly along at the head of his followers, eyeing our hero from time to time, as if he longed to enter into controversy with him. At length, unable to resist the temptation, he slackened his pace till he was alongside of his prisoner’s horse, and after marching a few steps in silence abreast of him, he suddenly asked — ‘Can ye say wha the carle was wi’ the black coat and the mousted head, that was wi’ the Laird of Cairnvreckan?’
‘A Presbyterian clergyman,’ answered Waverley.
‘Presbyterian!’ answered Gilfillan contemptuously; ‘a wretched Erastian, or rather an obscure Prelatist, a favourer of the black indulgence, ane of thae dumb dogs that canna bark; they tell ower a clash o’ terror and a clatter o’ comfort in their sermons, without ony sense, or savour, or life. Ye’ve been fed in siccan a fauld, belike?’
‘No; I am of the Church of England,’ said Waverley.
‘And they’re just neighbour-like,’ replied the Covenanter; ‘and nae wonder they gree sae weel. Wha wad hae thought the goodly structure of the Kirk of Scotland, built up by our fathers in 1642, wad hae been defaced by carnal ends and the corruptions of the time; — ay, wha wad hae thought the carved work of the sanctuary would hae been sae soon cut down!’
To this lamentation, which one or two of the assistants chorussed with a deep groan, our hero thought it unnecessary to make any reply. Whereupon Mr. Gilfillan, resolving that he should be a hearer at least, if not a disputant, proceeded in his Jeremiade.
‘And now is it wonderful, when, for lack of exercise anent the call to the service of the altar and the duty of the day, ministers fall into sinful compliances with patronage, and indemnities, and oaths, and bonds, and other corruptions, — is it wonderful, I say, that you, sir, and other sic-like unhappy persons, should labour to build up your auld Babel of iniquity, as in the bluidy persecuting saint-killing times? I trow, gin ye werena blinded wi’ the graces and favours, and services and enjoyments, and employments and inheritances, of this wicked world, I could prove to you, by the Scripture, in what a filthy rag ye put your trust; and that your surplices, and your copes and vestments, are but cast-off garments of the muckle harlot that sitteth upon seven hills and drinketh of the cup of abomination. But, I trow, ye are deaf as adders upon that side of the head; ay, ye are deceived with her enchantments, and ye traffic with her merchandise, and ye are drunk with the cup of her fornication!’
How much longer this military theologist might have continued his invective, in which he spared nobody but the scattered remnant of HILL-FOLK, as he called them, is absolutely uncertain. His matter was copious, his voice powerful, and his memory strong; so that there was little chance of his ending his exhortation till the party had reached Stirling, had not his attention been attracted by a pedlar who had joined the march from a cross-road, and who sighed or groaned with great regularity at all fitting pauses of his homily.
‘And what may ye be, friend?’ said the Gifted Gilfillan.
‘A puir pedlar, that’s bound for Stirling, and craves the protection of your honour’s party in these kittle times. Ah’ your honour has a notable faculty in searching and explaining the secret, — ay, the secret and obscure and incomprehensible causes of the backslidings of the land; ay, your honour touches the root o’ the matter.’
‘Friend,’ said Gilfillan, with a more complacent voice than he had hitherto used, ‘honour not me. I do not go out to park-dikes and to steadings and to market-towns to have herds and cottars and burghers pull off their bonnets to me as they do to Major Melville o’ Cairnvreckan, and ca’ me laird or captain or honour. No; my sma’ means, whilk are not aboon twenty thousand merk, have had the blessing of increase, but the pride of my heart has not increased with them; nor do I delight to be called captain, though I have the subscribed commission of that gospel-searching nobleman, the Earl of Glencairn, fa whilk I am so designated. While I live I am and will be called Habakkuk Gilfillan, who will stand up for the standards of doctrine agreed on by the ance famous Kirk of Scotland, before she trafficked with the accursed Achan, while he has a plack in his purse or a drap o’ bluid in his body.’
‘Ah,’ said the pedlar, ‘I have seen your land about Mauchlin. A fertile spot! your lines have fallen in pleasant places! And siccan a breed o’ cattle is not in ony laird’s land in Scotland.’