eat changes had taken place. One half of
the gate, entirely destroyed and split up for firewood, lay in piles,
ready to be taken away; the other swung uselessly about upon its loosened
hinges. The battlements above the gate were broken and thrown down, and
the carved bears, which were said to have done sentinel's duty upon the
top for centuries, now, hurled from their posts, lay among the rubbish.
The avenue was cruelly wasted. Several large trees were felled and left
lying across the path; and the cattle of the villagers, and the more rude
hoofs of dragoon horses, had poached into black mud the verdant turf
which Waverley had so much admired.

Upon entering the court-yard, Edward saw the fears realised which these
circumstances had excited. The place had been sacked by the King's
troops, who, in wanton mischief, had even attempted to burn it; and
though the thickness of the walls had resisted the fire, unless to a
partial extent, the stables and out-houses were totally consumed. The
towers and pinnacles of the main building were scorched and blackened;
the pavement of the court broken and shattered, the doors torn down
entirely, or hanging by a single hinge, the windows dashed in and
demolished, and the court strewed with articles of furniture broken into
fragments. The accessaries of ancient distinction, to which the Baron, in
the pride of his heart, had attached so much importance and veneration,
were treated with peculiar contumely. The fountain was demolished, and
the spring which had supplied it now flooded the court-yard. The stone
basin seemed to be destined for a drinking-trough for cattle, from the
manner in which it was arranged upon the ground. The whole tribe of
bears, large and small, had experienced as little favour as those at the
head of the avenue, and one or two of the family pictures, which seemed
to have served as targets for the soldiers, lay on the ground in tatters.
With an aching heart, as may well be imagined, Edward viewed this wreck
of a mansion so respected. But his anxiety to learn the fate of the
proprietors, and his fears as to what that fate might be, increased with
every step. When he entered upon the terrace new scenes of desolation
were visible. The balustrade was broken down, the walls destroyed, the
borders overgrown with weeds, and the fruit-trees cut down or grubbed up.
In one compartment of this old-fashioned garden were two immense
horse-chestnut trees, of whose size the Baron wa