‘I believe not,’ she replied.  ’This poor creature had a brother, and Heaven, as if to compensate to the family Davie’s deficiencies, had given him what the hamlet thought uncommon talents.  An uncle contrived to educate him for the Scottish kirk, but he could not get preferment because he came from our ground.  He returned from college hopeless and broken-hearted, and fell into a decline.  My father supported him till his death, which happened before he was nineteen.  He played beautifully on the flute, and was supposed to have a great turn for poetry.  He was affectionate and compassionate to his brother, who followed him like his shadow, and we think that from him Davie gathered many fragments of songs and music unlike those of this country.  But if we ask him where he got such a fragment as he is now singing, he either answers with wild and long fits of laughter, or else breaks into tears of lamentation; but was never heard to give any explanation, or to mention his brother’s name since his death.’

‘Surely,’ said Edward, who was readily interested by a tale bordering on the romantic, ‘surely more might be learned by more particular inquiry.’

‘Perhaps so,’ answered Rose, ’but my father will not permit any one to practise on his feelings on this subject.’

By this time the Baron, with the help of Mr. Saunderson, had indued a pair of jack-boots of large dimensions, and now invited our hero to follow him as he stalked clattering down the ample staircase, tapping each huge balustrade as he passed with the butt of his massive horsewhip, and humming, with the air of a chasseur of Louis Quatorze,

     Pour la chasse ordonnee il faut preparer tout,
     Hola ho!  Vite! vite debout.

CHAPTER XIII

A MORE RATIONAL DAY THAN THE LAST

The Baron of Bradwardine, mounted on an active and well-managed horse, and seated on a demi-pique saddle, with deep housings to agree with his livery, was no bad representative of the old school.  His light-coloured embroidered coat, and superbly barred waistcoat, his brigadier wig, surmounted by a small gold-laced cocked-hat, completed his personal costume; but he was attended by two well-mounted servants on horseback, armed with holster pistols.

In this guise he ambled forth over hill and valley, the admiration of every farmyard which they passed in their progress, till, ’low down in a grassy vale,’ they found Davie Gellatley leading two very tall deer greyhounds, and presiding over half a dozen curs, and about as many bare-legged and bare-headed boys, who, to procure the chosen distinction of attending on the chase, had not failed to tickle his ears with the dulcet appellation of Maister Gellatley, though probably all and each had booted him on former occasions in the character of daft Davie.  But this is no uncommon strain of flattery to persons in office, nor altogether confined to the bare-legged villagers of Tully-Veolan:  it was in fashion Sixty Years since, is now, and will be six hundred years hence, if this admirable compound of folly and knavery, called the world, shall be then in existence.