CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
Sometimes he thinks that Heaven this pageant sent, And ordered all the pageants as they went; Sometimes that only 'twas wild Fancy's play,-- The loose and scattered relics of the day.
We must now request our readers to adjourn to the breakfast parlour of Mr.Oldbuck, who, despising the modern slops of tea and coffee, was substantially regaling himself, more majorum, with cold roast-beef, and a glass of a sort of beverage called mum--a species of fat ale, brewed from wheat and bitter herbs, of which the present generation only know the name by its occurrence in revenue acts of parliament, coupled with cider, perry, and other excisable commodities.

Lovel, who was seduced to taste it, with difficulty refrained from pronouncing it detestable, but did refrain, as he saw he should otherwise give great offence to his host, who had the liquor annually prepared with peculiar care, according to the approved recipe bequeathed to him by the so-often mentioned Aldobrand Oldenbuck.

The hospitality of the ladies offered Lovel a breakfast more suited to modern taste, and while he was engaged in partaking of it, he was assailed by indirect inquiries concerning the manner in which he had passed the night.
"We canna compliment Mr.Lovel on his looks this morning, brother--but he winna condescend on any ground of disturbance he has had in the night time.

I am certain he looks very pale, and when he came here he was as fresh as a rose." "Why, sister, consider this rose of yours has been knocked about by sea and wind all yesterday evening, as if he had been a bunch of kelp or tangle, and how the devil would you have him retain his colour ?" "I certainly do still feel somewhat fatigued," said Lovel, "notwithstanding the excellent accommodations with which your hospitality so amply supplied me." "Ah, sir!" said Miss Oldbuck looking at him with a knowing smile, or what was meant to be one, "ye'll not allow of ony inconvenience, out of civility to us." "Really, madam," replied Lovel, "I had no disturbance; for I cannot term such the music with which some kind fairy favoured me." "I doubted Mary wad waken you wi' her skreighing; she dinna ken I had left open a chink of your window, for, forbye the ghaist, the Green Room disna vent weel in a high wind--But I am judging ye heard mair than Mary's lilts yestreen.

Weel, men are hardy creatures--they can gae through wi' a' thing.