f the Baron of Bradwardine. The notes which suggested this vision
continued, and waxed louder, until Edward awoke in earnest. The illusion,
however, did not seem entirely dispelled. The apartment was in the
fortress of lan nan Chaistel, but it was still the voice of Davie
Gellatley that made the following lines resound under the window:--

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

[Footnote: These lines form the burden of an old song to which Burns
wrote additional verses.]

Curious to know what could have determined Mr. Gellatley on an excursion
of such unwonted extent, Edward began to dress himself in all haste,
during which operation the minstrelsy of Davie changed its tune more than
once:--

There's nought in the Highlands but syboes and leeks,
And lang-leggit callants gaun wanting the breeks,
Wanting the breeks, and without hose and shoon,
But we'll a'win the breeks when King Jamie comes hame.

[Footnote: These lines are also ancient, and I believe to the tune of
'We'll never hae peace till Jamie comes hame,' to which Burns likewise
wrote some verses.]

By the time Waverley was dressed and had issued forth, David had
associated himself with two or three of the numerous Highland loungers
who always graced the gates of the castle with their presence, and was
capering and dancing full merrily in the doubles and full career of a
Scotch foursome reel, to the music of his own whistling. In this double
capacity of dancer and musician he continued, until an idle piper, who
observed his zeal, obeyed the unanimous call of seid suas (i.e. blow up),
and relieved him from the latter part of his trouble. Young and old then
mingled in the dance as they could find partners. The appearance of
Waverley did not interrupt David's exercise, though he contrived, by
grinning, nodding, and throwing one or two inclinations of the body into
the graces with which he performed the Highland fling, to convey to our
hero symptoms of recognition. Then, while busily employed in setting,
whooping all the while, and snapping his fingers over his head, he of a
sudden prolonged his side-step until it brought him to the place where
Edward was standing, and, still keeping time to the music like Harlequin
in a pantomime, he thrust a letter into our hero's hand, and cont