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
maid-servants, 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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