Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — CompleteScott, Walter
History
Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Complete
Scott, Walter
Historical fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
With similar tales of the grandeur of the Chief in peace and war, Evan
Dhu beguiled the way till they approached more closely those huge
mountains which Edward had hitherto only seen at a distance. It was
towards evening as they entered one of the tremendous passes which
afford communication between the high and low country; the path, which
was extremely steep and rugged, winded up a chasm between two
tremendous rocks, following the passage which a foaming stream, that
brawled far below, appeared to have worn for itself in the course of
ages. A few slanting beams of the sun, which was now setting, reached
the water in its darksome bed, and showed it partially, chafed by a
hundred rocks and broken by a hundred falls. The descent from the path
to the stream was a mere precipice, with here and there a projecting
fragment of granite, or a scathed tree, which had warped its twisted
roots into the fissures of the rock. On the right hand, the mountain
rose above the path with almost equal inaccessibility; but the hill on
the opposite side displayed a shroud of copsewood, with which some
pines were intermingled.
'This,' said Evan, 'is the pass of Bally-Brough, which was kept in
former times by ten of the clan Donnochie against a hundred of the
Low-Country carles. The graves of the slain are still to be seen in
that little corrie, or bottom, on the opposite side of the burn; if
your eyes are good, you may see the green specks among the heather.
See, there is an earn, which you Southrons call an eagle. You have no
such birds as that in England. He is going to fetch his supper from the
Laird of Bradwardine's braes, but I 'll send a slug after him.'
He fired his piece accordingly, but missed the superb monarch of the
feathered tribes, who, without noticing the attempt to annoy him,
continued his majestic flight to the southward. A thousand birds of
prey, hawks, kites, carrion-crows, and ravens, disturbed from the
lodgings which they had just taken up for the evening, rose at the
report of the gun, and mingled their hoarse and discordant notes with
the echoes which replied to it, and with the roar of the mountain
cataracts. Evan, a little disconcerted at having missed his mark, when
he meant to have displayed peculiar dexterity, covered his confusion by
whistling part of a pibroch as he reloaded his piece, and proceeded in
silence up the pass.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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