is own meditations, for his attendant with the
battle-axe spoke very little English. They were traversing a thick, and,
as it seemed, an endless wood of pines, and consequently the path was
altogether indiscernible in the murky darkness which surrounded them. The
Highlander, however, seemed to trace it by instinct, without the
hesitation of a moment, and Edward followed his footsteps as close as he
could.

After journeying a considerable time in silence, he could not help
asking, 'Was it far to the end of their journey?'

'Ta cove was tree, four mile; but as duinhe-wassel was a wee taiglit,
Donald could, tat is, might--would--should send ta curragh.'

This conveyed no information. The curragh which was promised might be a
man, a horse, a cart, or chaise; and no more could be got from the man
with the battle-axe but a repetition of 'Aich ay! ta curragh.'

But in a short time Edward began to conceive his meaning, when, issuing
from the wood, he found himself on the banks of a large river or lake,
where his conductor gave him to understand they must sit down for a
little while. The moon, which now began to rise, showed obscurely the
expanse of water which spread before them, and the shapeless and
indistinct forms of mountains with which it seemed to be surrounded. The
cool and yet mild air of the summer night refreshed Waverley after his
rapid and toilsome walk; and the perfume which it wafted from the birch
trees, [Footnote: It is not the weeping birch, the most common species in
the Highlands, but the woolly-leaved Lowland birch, that is distinguished
by this fragrance.] bathed in the evening dew, was exquisitely fragrant.

He had now time to give himself up to the full romance of his situation.
Here he sate on the banks of an unknown lake, under the guidance of a
wild native, whose language was unknown to him, on a visit to the den of
some renowned outlaw, a second Robin Hood, perhaps, or Adam o' Gordon,
and that at deep midnight, through scenes of difficulty and toil,
separated from his attendant, left by his guide. What a variety of
incidents for the exercise of a romantic imagination, and all enhanced by
the solemn feeling of uncertainty at least, if not of danger! The only
circumstance which assorted ill with the rest was the cause of his
journey--the Baron's milk-cows! this degrading incident he kept in the
background.

While wrapt in these dreams of imagination, his companion gently touched
him, and, pointin