tory over the river. To the left were
seen two or three cottages, a part of the village; the brow of the hill
concealed the others. The glen, or dell, was terminated by a sheet of
water, called Loch-Veolan, into which the brook discharged itself, and
which now glistened in the western sun. The distant country seemed
open and varied in surface, though not wooded; and there was nothing to
interrupt the view until the scene was bounded by a ridge of distant and
blue hills, which formed the southern boundary of the strath or valley.
To this pleasant station Miss Bradwardine had ordered coffee.

The view of the old tower, or fortalice, introduced some family
anecdotes and tales of Scottish chivalry, which the Baron told with
great enthusiasm. The projecting peak of an impending crag which rose
near it, had acquired the name of St. Swithin's Chair. it was the scene
of a peculiar superstition, of which Mr. Rubrick mentioned some curious
particulars, which reminded Waverley of a rhyme quoted By Edgar in KING
LEAR; and Rose was called upon to sing a little legend, in which they
had been interwoven by some village poet,

Who, noteless as the race from which he sprung,
Saved others' names, but left his own unsung.

The sweetness of her voice, and the simple beauty of her music, gave
all the advantage which the minstrel could have desired, and which his
poetry so much wanted. I almost doubt if it can be read with patience,
destitute of these advantages; although I conjecture the following copy
to have been somewhat corrected by Waverley, to suit the taste of those
who might not relish pure antiquity:--

ST. SWITHIN'S CHAIR.

On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere ye boune ye to rest,
Ever beware that your couch be blessed;
Sign it with cross, and sain it with bead,
Sing the Ave, and say the Creed.

For on Hallow-Mass Eve the Night-Hag will ride,
And all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side,
Whether the wind sing lowly or loud,
Sailing through moonshine or swathed in the cloud.

The Lady she sat in St. Swithin's Chair,
The dew of the night has damped her hair:
Her cheek was pale--but resolved and high
Was the word of her lip and the glance of her eye.

She muttered the spell of Swithin bold,
When his naked foot traced the midnight wold,
When he stopped the Hag as she rode the night,
And bade her descend, and her promise plight.

He th