“An excellent man—­a most valuable man, Mr. Caleb; but fat sall I say! we are peer feckless bodies, here the day and awa’ by cock-screech the morn; and if he failyies, there maun be somebody in his place; and gif that ye could airt it my way, I sall be thankful, man—­a gluve stuffed wi gowd nobles; an’ hark ye, man something canny till yoursell, and the Wolf’s Hope carles to settle kindly wi’ the Master of Ravenswood—­that is, Lord Ravenswood—­God bless his lordship!”

A smile, and a hearty squeeze by the hand, was the suitable answer to this overture; and Caleb made his escape from the jovial party, in order to avoid committing himself by any special promises.

“The Lord be gude to me,” said Caleb, when he found himself in the open air, and at liberty to give vent to the self-exultation with which he was, as it were, distended; “did ever ony man see sic a set of green-gaislings?  The very pickmaws and solan-geese out-bye yonder at the Bass hae ten times their sense!  God, an I had been the Lord High Commissioner to the Estates o’ Parliament, they couldna hae beflumm’d me mair; and, to speak Heaven’s truth, I could hardly hae beflumm’d them better neither!  But the writer—­ha! ha! ha!—­ah, ha! ha! ha! mercy on me, that I suld live in my auld days to gie the ganag-bye to the very writer!  Sheriff-clerk!!!  But I hae an auld account to settle wi’ the carle; and to make amends for bye-ganes, the office shall just cost him as much time-serving and tide-serving as if he were to get it in gude earnest, of whilk there is sma’ appearance, unless the Master learns mair the ways of this warld, whilk it is muckle to be doubted that he never will do.”

CHAPTER XXVI.

     Why flames yon far summit—­why shoot to the blast
     Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? 
     ’Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven
     From thine eyrie, that beacons the darkness of Heaven.

     Campbell.

The circumstances announced in the conclusion of the last chapter will account for the ready and cheerful reception of the Marquis of A——­ and the Master of Ravenswood in the village of Wolf’s Hope.  In fact, Caleb had no sooner announced the conflagration of the tower than the whole hamlet were upon foot to hasten to extinguish the flames.  And although that zealous adherent diverted their zeal by intimating the formidable contents of the subterranean apartments, yet the check only turned their assiduity into another direction.  Never had there been such slaughtering of capons, and fat geese, and barndoor fowls; never such boiling of “reested” hams; never such making of car-cakes and sweet scones, Selkirk bannocks, cookies, and petticoat-tails—­delicacies little known to the present generation.  Never had there been such a tapping of barrels, and such uncorking of greybeards, in the village of Wolf’s Hope.  All the inferior houses were thrown open