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
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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