Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 1Scott, Walter
History
Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 1
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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