'my shooting jacket has
seen service since we parted; but that probably you, my friend, know as
well or better than I.'

'You do my second-sight too much honour,' said Fergus. 'We were so busy,
first with the scheme of giving battle to Cope, and afterwards with our
operations in the Lowlands, that I could only give general directions to
such of our people as were left in Perthshire to respect and protect you,
should you come in their way. But let me hear the full story of your
adventures, for they have reached us in a very partial and mutilated
manner.'

Waverley then detailed at length the circumstances with which the reader
is already acquainted, to which Fergus listened with great attention. By
this time they had reached the door of his quarters, which he had taken
up in a small paved court, retiring from the street called the Canongate,
at the house of a buxom widow of forty, who seemed to smile very
graciously upon the handsome young Chief, she being a person with whom
good looks and good-humour were sure to secure an interest, whatever
might be the party's "political opinions". Here Callum Beg received them
with a smile of recognition. 'Callum,' said the Chief, 'call Shemus an
Snachad' (James of the Needle). This was the hereditary tailor of Vich
lan Vohr. 'Shemus, Mr. Waverley is to wear the cath dath (battle colour,
or tartan); his trews must be ready in four hours. You know the measure
of a well-made man--two double nails to the small of the leg--'

'Eleven from haunch to heel, seven round the waist. I give your honour
leave to hang Shemus, if there's a pair of sheers in the Highlands that
has a baulder sneck than her's ain at the cumadh an truais' (shape of the
trews).

'Get a plaid of Mac-Ivor tartan and sash,' continued the Chieftain, 'and
a blue bonnet of the Prince's pattern, at Mr. Mouat's in the Crames. My
short green coat, with silver lace and silver buttons, will fit him
exactly, and I have never worn it. Tell Ensign Maccombich to pick out a
handsome target from among mine. The Prince has given Mr. Waverley
broadsword and pistols, I will furnish him with a dirk and purse; add but
a pair of low-heeled shoes, and then, my dear Edward (turning to him),
you will be a complete son of Ivor.'

These necessary directions given, the Chieftain resumed the subject of
Waverley's adventures. 'It is plain,' he said,'that you have been in the
custody of Donald Bean Lean. You must know that, when I marched away m