Waverley was rather surprised that Fergus had not mentioned this ulterior
destination when they set out upon the hunting-party; but his situation
did not admit of many interrogatories. The greater part of the clansmen
went forward under the guidance of old Ballenkeiroch and Evan Dhu
Maccombich, apparently in high spirits. A few remained for the purpose of
escorting the Chieftain, who walked by the side of Edward's litter, and
attended him with the most affectionate assiduity. About noon, after a
journey which the nature of the conveyance, the pain of his bruises, and
the roughness of the way rendered inexpressibly painful, Waverley was
hospitably received into the house of a gentleman related to Fergus, who
had prepared for him every accommodation which the simple habits of
living then universal in the Highlands put in his power. In this person,
an old man about seventy, Edward admired a relic of primitive simplicity.
He wore no dress but what his estate afforded; the cloth was the fleece
of his own sheep, woven by his own servants, and stained into tartan by
the dyes produced from the herbs and lichens of the hills around him. His
linen was spun by his daughters and maidservants, from his own flax; nor
did his table, though plentiful, and varied with game and fish, offer an
article but what was of native produce.
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