Waverley and his new friend followed him, though probably
he would have dispensed with their attendance. They soon recognized in
solemn march, first, the performer upon the drum; secondly, a large
flag of four compartments, on which were inscribed the words COVENANTS,
RELIGION, KING, KINGDOMES. The person who was honoured with this charge
was followed by the commander of the party, a thin, dark, rigid-looking
man, about sixty years old. The spiritual pride, which in mine Host of
the Candlestick mantled in a sort of supercilious hypocrisy, was, in
this man's face, elevated and yet darkened by genuine and undoubting
fanaticism. It was impossible to behold him without imagination
placing him in some strange crisis, where religious zeal was the ruling
principle. A martyr at the stake, a soldier in the field, a lonely and
banished wanderer consoled by the intensity and supposed purity of his
faith under every earthly privation; perhaps a persecuting inquisitor,
as terrible in power as unyielding in adversity; any of these seemed
congenial characters to this personage. With these high traits of
energy, there was something in the affected precision and solemnity of
his deportment and discourse, that bordered upon the ludicrous; so that,
according to the mood of the spectator's mind, and the light under which
Mr.
Pages:
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393