names, and trifling
matters of fact - a tiresome and frivolous accuracy of memory, which is entirely
owing to his mechanical descent.«
    »He must find it convenient in historical investigation, I should think,
sir?« said the young lady.
    »It leads to an uncivil and positive mode of disputing; and nothing seems
more unreasonable than to hear him impugn even Bellenden's rare translation of
Hector Boece, which I have the satisfaction to possess, and which is a
black-letter folio of great value, upon the authority of some old scrap of
parchment which he has saved from its deserved destiny of being cut up into
tailor's measures. And besides, that habit of minute and troublesome accuracy
leads to a mercantile manner of doing business, which ought to be beneath a
landed proprietor whose family has stood two or three generations. I question if
there's a dealer's clerk in Fairport that can sum an account of interest better
than Monkbarns.«
    »But you'll accept his invitation, sir?«
    »Why, ye - yes; we have no other engagement on hand, I think. Who can the
young man be he talks of? - he seldom picks up new acquaintance; and he has no
relation that I ever heard of.«
    »Probably some relation of his brother-in-law Captain M'Intyre.«
    »Very possibly - yes, we will accept - the M'Intyres are of a very ancient
Highland family. You may answer his card in the affirmative, Isabella; I believe
I have no leisure to be Dear Sirring myself.«
    So this important matter being adjusted, Miss Wardour intimated »her own and
Sir Arthur's compliments, and that they would have the honour of waiting upon
Mr. Oldbuck. Miss Wardour takes this opportunity to renew her hostility with Mr.
Oldbuck, on account of his late long absence from Knockwinnock, where his visits
give so much pleasure.« With this placebo she concluded her note, with which old
Caxon, now refreshed in limbs and wind, set out on his return to the Antiquary's
mansion.
 

                                 Chapter Sixth

 Moth. By Woden, God of Saxons,
 From whence comes Wensday, that is, Wodnesday,
 Truth is a thing that I will ever keep
 Unto thylke day in which I creep into
 My sepulcre -
                                                          Cartwright's Ordinary.
 
Our young friend Lovel, who had received a corresponding invitation, punctual to
the hour of appointment, arrived at Monkbarns about five minutes before four
o'clock on the 17th of July. The day had been remarkably sultry, and