h Miss Rose Bradwardine, ecstasy had
almost deprived the honest man of his senses. The Bailie started from his
three-footed stool like the Pythoness from her tripod; flung his best wig
out of the window, because the block on which it was placed stood in the
way of his career; chucked his cap to the ceiling, caught it as it fell;
whistled 'Tullochgorum'; danced a Highland fling with inimitable grace
and agility, and then threw himself exhausted into a chair, exclaiming,
'Lady Wauverley! ten thousand a year the least penny! Lord preserve my
poor understanding!'

'Amen with all my heart,' said Waverley; 'but now, Mr. Macwheeble, let us
proceed to business.' This word had somewhat a sedative effect, but the
Bailie's head, as he expressed himself, was still 'in the bees.' He
mended his pen, however, marked half a dozen sheets of paper with an
ample marginal fold, whipped down Dallas of St. Martin's 'Styles' from a
shelf, where that venerable work roosted with Stair's 'Institutions,'
Dirleton's 'Doubts,' Balfour's 'Practiques,' and a parcel of old
account-books, opened the volume at the article Contract of Marriage, and
prepared to make what he called a'sma' minute to prevent parties frae
resiling.'

With some difficulty Waverley made him comprehend that he was going a
little too fast. He explained to him that he should want his assistance,
in the first place, to make his residence safe for the time, by writing
to the officer at Tully-Veolan that Mr. Stanley, an English gentleman
nearly related to Colonel Talbot, was upon a visit of business at Mr.
Macwheeble's, and, knowing the state of the country, had sent his
passport for Captain Foster's inspection. This produced a polite answer
from the officer, with an invitation to Mr. Stanley to dine with him,
which was declined (as may easily be supposed) under pretence of
business.

Waverley's next request was, that Mr. Macwheeble would despatch a man and
horse to----, the post-town at which Colonel Talbot was to address him,
with directions to wait there until the post should bring a letter for
Mr. Stanley, and then to forward it to Little Veolan with all speed. In a
moment the Bailie was in search of his apprentice (or servitor, as he was
called Sixty Years Since), Jock Scriever, and in not much greater space
of time Jock was on the back of the white pony. 'Tak care ye guide him
weel, sir, for he's aye been short in the wind since--ahem--Lord be gude
to me! (in a low v