ite side, dropped their
garments (I should say garment, to be quite correct) over their limbs,
which their occupation exposed somewhat too freely, and, with a shrill
exclamation of 'Eh, sirs!' uttered with an accent between modesty and
coquetry, sprung off like deer in different directions.

Waverley began to despair of gaining entrance into this solitary and
seemingly enchanted mansion, when a man advanced up one of the garden
alleys, where he still retained his station. Trusting this might be a
gardener, or some domestic belonging to the house, Edward descended the
steps in order to meet him; but as the figure approached, and long before
he could descry its features, he was struck with the oddity of its
appearance and gestures. Sometimes this mister wight held his hands
clasped over his head, like an Indian Jogue in the attitude of penance;
sometimes he swung them perpendicularly, like a pendulum, on each side;
and anon he slapped them swiftly and repeatedly across his breast, like
the substitute used by a hackney-coachman for his usual flogging
exercise, when his cattle are idle upon the stand, in a clear frosty day.
His gait was as singular as his gestures, for at times he hopped with
great perseverance on the right foot, then exchanged that supporter to
advance in the same manner on the left, and then putting his feet close
together he hopped upon both at once. His attire also was antiquated and
extravagant. It consisted in a sort of grey jerkin, with scarlet cuffs
and slashed sleeves, showing a scarlet lining; the other parts of the
dress corresponded in colour, not forgetting a pair of scarlet stockings,
and a scarlet bonnet, proudly surmounted with a turkey's feather. Edward,
whom he did not seem to observe, now perceived confirmation in his
features of what the mien and gestures had already announced. It was
apparently neither idiocy nor insanity which gave that wild, unsettled,
irregular expression to a face which naturally was rather handsome, but
something that resembled a compound of both, where the simplicity of the
fool was mixed with the extravagance of a crazed imagination. He sung
with great earnestness, and not without some taste, a fragment of an old
Scottish ditty:--

False love, and hast thou play'd me this
In summer among the flowers?
I will repay thee back again
In winter among the showers.
Unless again, again, my love,
Unless you turn again;
As you with ot