and agitated under
the passing storm, which, when the clouds swept over the moon, were only
distinguished by their sullen and murmuring plash against the beach. The
wooded glen repeated, to every successive gust that hurried through its
narrow trough, the deep and various groan with which the trees replied
to the whirlwind, and the sound sunk again, as the blast passed away,
into a faint and passing murmur, resembling the sighs of an exhausted
criminal after the first pangs of his torture are over. In these sounds,
superstition might have found ample gratification for that State of
excited terror which she fears and yet loves. But such feeling is made
no part of Ochiltree's composition. His mind wandered back to the scenes
of his youth.

"I have kept guard on the outposts baith in Germany and America," he
said to himself, "in mony a waur night than this, and when I ken'd there
was maybe a dozen o' their riflemen in the thicket before me. But I was
aye gleg at my duty--naebody ever catched Edie sleeping."

As he muttered thus to himself, he instinctively shouldered his trusty
pike-staff, assumed the port of a sentinel on duty, and, as a step
advanced towards the tree, called, with a tone assorting better with his
military reminiscences than his present state--"Stand! who goes there?"

"De devil, goot Edie," answered Dousterswivel, "why does you speak
so loud as a baarenhauter, or what you call a factionary--I mean a
sentinel?"

"Just because I thought I was a sentinel at that moment," answered the
mendicant. "Here's an awsome night! Hae ye brought the lantern and a
pock for the siller?"

"Ay-ay, mine goot friend," said the German, "here it is--my pair of what
you call saddlebag; one side will be for you, one side for me;--I will
put dem on my horse to save you de trouble, as you are old man."

"Have you a horse here, then?" asked Edie Ochiltree.

"O yes, mine friend--tied yonder by de stile," responded the adept.

"Weel, I hae just ae word to the bargain--there sall nane o' my gear gang
on your beast's back."

"What was it as you would be afraid of?" said the foreigner.

"Only of losing sight of horse, man, and money," again replied the
gaberlunzie.

"Does you know dat you make one gentlemans out to be one great rogue?"

"Mony gentlemen," replied Ochiltree, "can make that out for themselves--
But what's the sense of quarrelling?--If ye want to gang on, gang on--if
no--I'll gae back to the gude ait-straw in