 of the Church of England,« said Waverley.
    »And they're just neighbour-like,« replied the Covenanter; »and nae wonder
they gree sae weel. Wha wad hae thought the goodly structure of the Kirk of
Scotland, built up by our fathers in 1642, wad hae been defaced by carnal ends
and the corruptions of the time; - ay, wha wad hae thought the carved work of
the sanctuary would hae been sae soon cut down!«
    To this lamentation, which one or two of the assistants chorussed with a
deep groan, our hero thought it unnecessary to make any reply. Whereupon Mr.
Gilfillan, resolving that he should be a hearer at least, if not a disputant,
proceeded in his Jeremiade.
    »And now is it wonderful, when, for lack of exercise anent the call to the
service of the altar and the duty of the day, ministers fall into sinful
compliances with patronage, and indemnities, and oaths, and bonds, and other
corruptions, - is it wonderful, I say, that you, sir, and other sic-like unhappy
persons, should labour to build up your auld Babel of iniquity, as in the bluidy
persecuting saint-killing times? I trow, gin ye werena blinded wi' the graces
and favours, and services and enjoyments, and employments and inheritances, of
this wicked world, I could prove to you, by the Scripture, in what a filthy rag
ye put your trust; and that your surplices, and your copes and vestments, are
but cast-off garments of the muckle harlot, that sitteth upon seven hills, and
drinketh of the cup of abomination. But, I trow, ye are deaf as adders upon that
side of the head; ay, ye are deceived with her enchantments, and ye traffic with
her merchandise, and ye are drunk with the cup of her fornication!«
    How much longer this military theologist might have continued his invective,
in which he spared nobody but the scattered remnant of hill-folk, as he called
them, is absolutely uncertain. His matter was copious, his voice powerful, and
his memory strong; so that there was little chance of his ending his exhortation
till the party had reached Stirling, had not his attention been attracted by a
pedlar who had joined the march from a cross-road, and who sighed or groaned
with great regularity at all fitting pauses of his homily.
    »And what may ye be friend?« said the Gifted Gilfillan.
    »A puir pedlar, that's bound for Stirling, and craves the protection of your
