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
As they entered the village of Cairnvreckan, they speedily
distinguished the smith's house. Being also a public, it was two
stories high, and proudly reared its crest, covered with grey slate,
above the thatched hovels by which it was surrounded. The adjoining
smithy betokened none of the Sabbatical silence and repose which
Ebenezer had augured from the sanctity of his friend. On the contrary,
hammer clashed and anvil rang, the bellows groaned, and the whole
apparatus of Vulcan appeared to be in full activity. Nor was the labour
of a rural and pacific nature. The master smith, benempt, as his sign
intimated, John Mucklewrath, with two assistants, toiled busily in
arranging, repairing, and furbishing old muskets, pistols, and swords,
which lay scattered around his workshop in military confusion. The open
shed, containing the forge, was crowded with persons who came and went
as if receiving and communicating important news, and a single glance
at the aspect of the people who traversed the street in haste, or stood
assembled in groups, with eyes elevated and hands uplifted, announced
that some extraordinary intelligence was agitating the public mind of
the municipality of Cairnvreckan. 'There is some news,' said mine host
of the Candlestick, pushing his lantern-jawed visage and bare-boned nag
rudely forward into the crowd--'there is some news; and, if it please
my Creator, I will forthwith obtain speirings thereof.'
Waverley, with better regulated curiosity than his attendant's,
dismounted and gave his horse to a boy who stood idling near. It arose,
perhaps, from the shyness of his character in early youth, that he felt
dislike at applying to a stranger even for casual information, without
previously glancing at his physiognomy and appearance. While he looked
about in order to select the person with whom he would most willingly
hold communication, the buzz around saved him in some degree the
trouble of interrogatories. The names of Lochiel, Clanronald,
Glengarry, and other distinguished Highland Chiefs, among whom Vich Ian
Vohr was repeatedly mentioned, were as familiar in men's mouths as
household words; and from the alarm generally expressed, he easily
conceived that their descent into the Lowlands, at the head of their
armed tribes, had either already taken place or was instantly
apprehended.
Ere Waverley could ask particulars, a strong, large-boned,
hard-featured woman, about forty, dressed as if her clothes had been
flung on with a pitchfork, her cheeks flushed with a scarlet red where
they were not smutted with soot and lamp-black, jostled through the
crowd, and, brandishing high a child of two years old, which she danced
in her arms without regard to its screams of terror, sang forth with
all her might,--
Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling,
Charlie is my darling,
The young Chevalier!
'D' ye hear what's come ower ye now,' continued the virago, 'ye
whingeing Whig carles? D'ye hear wha's coming to cow yer cracks?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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