iar meaning of all these
cabalistical words few or none could explain; but they implied, upon the
whole, that the Baron of Bradwardine might, in case of delinquency,
imprison, try, and execute his vassals at his pleasure. Like James the
First, however, the present possessor of this authority was more pleased
in talking about prerogative than in exercising it; and excepting that he
imprisoned two poachers in the dungeon of the old tower of Tully-Veolan,
where they were sorely frightened by ghosts, and almost eaten by rats,
and that he set an old woman in the jougs (or Scottish pillory) for
saying' there were mair fules in the laird's ha' house than Davie
Gellatley,' I do not learn that he was accused of abusing his high
powers. Still, however, the conscious pride of possessing them gave
additional importance to his language and deportment.

At his first address to Waverley, it would seem that the hearty pleasure
he felt to behold the nephew of his friend had somewhat discomposed the
stiff and upright dignity of the Baron of Bradwardine's demeanour, for
the tears stood in the old gentleman's eyes, when, having first shaken
Edward heartily by the hand in the English fashion, he embraced him a la
mode Francoise, and kissed him on both sides of his face; while the
hardness of his gripe, and the quantity of Scotch snuff which his
accolade communicated, called corresponding drops of moisture to the eyes
of his guest.

'Upon the honour of a gentleman,' he said, 'but it makes me young again
to see you here, Mr. Waverley! A worthy scion of the old stock of
Waverley-Honour--spes altera, as Maro hath it--and you have the look of
the old line, Captain Waverley; not so portly yet as my old friend Sir
Everard--mais cela viendra avec le tems, as my Dutch acquaintance, Baron
Kikkitbroeck, said of the sagesse of Madame son epouse. And so ye have
mounted the cockade? Right, right; though I could have wished the colour
different, and so I would ha' deemed might Sir Everard. But no more of
that; I am old, and times are changed. And how does the worthy knight
baronet, and the fair Mrs. Rachel?--Ah, ye laugh, young man! In troth she
was the fair Mrs. Rachel in the year of grace seventeen hundred and
sixteen; but time passes--et singula praedantur anni--that is most
certain. But once again ye are most heartily welcome to my poor house of
Tully-Veolan! Hie to the house, Rose, and see that Alexander Saunderson
looks out the old Chateau Margaux,