orrow
before eight of the clock, which, as your pacing nag is so good, you may
well do without rising before your usual hour. So, praying to God to
preserve your health, I rest your dutiful and loving niece,

"Edith Bellenden.

"Postscriptum. A party of soldiers have last night brought your friend,
young Mr Henry Morton of Milnwood, hither as a prisoner. I conclude you
will be sorry for the young gentleman, and, therefore, let you know this,
in case you may think of speaking to Colonel Grahame in his behalf. I
have not mentioned his name to my grandmother, knowing her prejudice
against the family."

This epistle being duly sealed and delivered to Jenny, that faithful
confidant hastened to put the same in the charge of Goose Gibbie, whom
she found in readiness to start from the castle. She then gave him
various instructions touching the road, which she apprehended he was
likely to mistake, not having travelled it above five or six times, and
possessing only the same slender proportion of memory as of judgment.
Lastly, she smuggled him out of the garrison through the pantry window
into the branchy yew-tree which grew close beside it, and had the
satisfaction to see him reach the bottom in safety, and take the right
turn at the commencement of his journey. She then returned to persuade
her young mistress to go to bed, and to lull her to rest, if possible,
with assurances of Gibbie's success in his embassy, only qualified by a
passing regret that the trusty Cuddie, with whom the commission might
have been more safely reposed, was no longer within reach of serving her.

More fortunate as a messenger than as a cavalier, it was Gibbie's good
hap rather than his good management, which, after he had gone astray not
oftener than nine times, and given his garments a taste of the variation
of each bog, brook, and slough, between Tillietudlem and Charnwood,
placed him about daybreak before the gate of Major Bellenden's mansion,
having completed a walk of ten miles (for the bittock, as usual, amounted
to four) in little more than the same number of hours.

CHAPTER XI.

At last comes the troop, by the word of command
Drawn up in our court, where the Captain cries,
Stand!
Swift

Major Bellenden's ancient valet, Gideon Pike as he adjusted his master's
clothes by his bedside, preparatory to the worthy veteran's toilet,
acquainted hi