l to the twenty-nine brave galloglasses who were to fight in the
approaching conflict, under the eye and leading of their young chief.
The bards, assuming in old times the prophetic character combined with
their own, ventured to assure them of the most distinguished victory,
and to predict the fury with which the blue falcon, the emblem of the
Clan Quhele, should rend to pieces the mountain cat, the well known
badge of the Clan Chattan.

It was approaching sunset when a bowl, called the grace cup, made of
oak, hooped with silver, was handed round the table as the signal of
dispersion, although it was left free to any who chose a longer carouse
to retreat to any of the outer bothies. As for Simon Glover, the
Booshalloch conducted him to a small hut, contrived, it would seem,
for the use of a single individual, where a bed of heath and moss was
arranged as well as the season would permit, and an ample supply of
such delicacies as the late feast afforded showed that all care had been
taken for the inhabitant's accommodation.

"Do not leave this hut," said the Booshalloch, taking leave of his
friend and protege: "this is your place of rest. But apartments are lost
on such a night of confusion, and if the badger leaves his hole the toad
will creep into it."

To Simon Glover this arrangement was by no means disagreeable. He had
been wearied by the noise of the day, and felt desirous of repose. After
eating, therefore, a morsel, which his appetite scarce required, and
drinking a cup of wine to expel the cold, he muttered his evening
prayer, wrapt himself in his cloak, and lay down on a couch which old
acquaintance had made familiar and easy to him. The hum and murmur,
and even the occasional shouts, of some of the festive multitude who
continued revelling without did not long interrupt his repose, and in
about ten minutes he was as fast asleep as if he had lain in his own bed
in Curfew Street.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Still harping on my daughter.

Hamlet.

Two hours before the black cock crew, Simon Glover was wakened by a well
known voice, which called him by name.

"What, Conachar!" he replied, as he started from sleep, "is the morning
so far advanced?" and, raising his eyes, the person of whom he was
dreaming stood before him; and at the same moment, the events of
yesterday rushing on his recollection, he saw with surprise that the
vision retained the form which sleep had assigned it, and it was not the
m