'This is the last turn-out,' said Fergus, 'that I shall hear and obey.

And now, my dear, dear Edward, ere we part let us speak of Flora--a subject which awakes the tenderest feeling that yet thrills within me.' 'We part not here!' said Waverley.
'Oh yes, we do; you must come no farther.

Not that I fear what is to follow for myself,' he said proudly: 'Nature has her tortures as well as art; and how happy should we think the man who escapes from the throes of a mortal and painful disorder, in the space of a short half hour?
And this matter, spin it out as they will, cannot last longer, But what a dying man can suffer firmly, may kill a living friend to look upon .-- This same law of high treason,' he continued, with astonishing firmness and composure, 'is one of the blessings, Edward, with which your free country has accommodated poor old Scotland: her own jurisprudence, as I have heard, was much milder.

But I suppose one day or other--when there are no longer any wild Highlanders to benefit by its tender mercies--they will blot it from their records, as levelling them with a nation of cannibals.

The mummery, too, of exposing the senseless head--they have not the wit to grace mine with a paper coronet; there would be some satire in that, Edward.