But I believe Jonathan was
insensible to the reprimand.

The drums began to beat and the fifes to play--the word "March!" was
given--the townspeople gave us three cheers as we began to move--and my
comrade Jonathan, in his agitation, put his wrong foot foremost, and could
not keep the step. So we marched onward, armed and full of patriotism,
towards Haddington, which in case of the invasion, was appointed our
head-quarters or place of rendezvous.

I will not pretend to say that I felt altogether comfortable during the
march; indeed, to have done so was impossible, for the night was bitterly
cold, and at all times there is but little shelter on the bleak and wild
Lammermoors; yet the cold gave me but small concern, in comparison of the
thoughts of my Agnes and my son Robin. I felt that I loved them even better
than ever I had imagined I loved them before, and it caused me much silent
agony of spirit when I thought that I had parted with them--perhaps for
ever. Yet, even in the midst of such thoughts, I was cheered by the
glorious idea of fighting in defence of one's own native country; and I
thought of Wallace and of Bruce, and of all the heroes I had read about
when a laddie, and my blood fired again. I found that I hated our invaders
with a perfect hatred--that I feared not to meet death--and I grasped my
firelock more firmly, and a thousand times fancied that I had it levelled
at the breast of the Corsican.

I indulged in this train of thoughts until we had reached Longformacus, and
during that period not a word had my right-hand neighbour, Jonathan
Barlowman, spoken, either good, bad, or indifferent; but I had frequently
heard him groan audibly, as though his spirit were troubled. At length,
when we had passed Longformacus, and were in the most desolate part of the
hills--"O Mr Goldie! Mr Goldie!" said he, "is this no dismal?"

"I always consider it," answered I, "one of the dreariest spots on the
Lammermoors."

"O sir!" said he, "it isna the dreariness o' the road that I am referring
to. I would rather be sent across the hills from Cowdingham to Lander,
blindfold, than I would be sent upon an errand like this. But is it not a
dismal and a dreadfu' thought that Christian men should be roused out of
their beds at the dead of night, to march owre moor and mountain, to be
shot, or to cut each other's throats? It is terrible, Mr Goldie!"

Now, he was a man seven inches taller than I was, and I was glad of the
oppor