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Updated: June 4, 2025
Let the old mother fly to raise another brood, she's too tough to be made any thing of herself Here," he cried, "one other round to Milnwood and his roof-tree, and to our next merry meeting with him! which I think will not be far distant, if he keeps such a fanatical family."
"Many," said Evandale, "are flocking to them already, and they give out that they expect a strong body of the indulged presbyterians, headed by young Milnwood, as they call him, the son of the famous old roundhead, Colonel Silas Morton." This speech produced a very different effect upon the hearers.
"Young Milnwood!" exclaimed Edith, aghast in her turn; "it is impossible totally impossible! His uncle attends the clergyman indulged by law, and has no connexion whatever with the refractory people; and he himself has never interfered in this unhappy dissension; he must be totally innocent, unless he has been standing up for some invaded right."
Milnwood groaned in perplexity and bitterness of spirit, and, with a tone as if he was giving up the ghost, exclaimed, "If twenty p p punds would make up this unhappy matter" "My master," insinuated Alison to the sergeant, "would gie twenty punds sterling" "Punds Scotch, ye b h!" interrupted Milnwood; for the agony of his avarice overcame alike his puritanic precision and the habitual respect he entertained for his housekeeper.
He decanted about one-half of a quart bottle of claret into a wooden quaigh or bicker, and took it off at a draught. "You did your good wine injustice, my friend; it's better than your brandy, though that's good too. Will you pledge me to the king's health?" "With pleasure," said Milnwood, "in ale, but I never drink claret, and keep only a very little for some honoured friends."
Impatient of suspense upon this most interesting subject, he at length intimated to his colleagues in command his desire, or rather his intention, for he saw no reason why he should not assume a license which was taken by every one else in this disorderly army, to go to Milnwood for a day or two to arrange some private affairs of consequence.
Ere Morton could recover from the alarm into which this proposal had thrown him, a third speaker rejoined, "I cannot think it at all necessary; Milnwood is an infirm, hypochondriac old man, who never meddles with politics, and loves his moneybags and bonds better than any thing else in the world.
And then aside to her master, "Haste ye away, sir, and get the siller, or they will burn the house about our lugs." Old Milnwood cast a rueful look upon his adviser, and moved off, like a piece of Dutch clockwork, to set at liberty his imprisoned angels in this dire emergency.
On the day, therefore, after Cuddie's arrival, being the third from the opening of this narrative, old Robin, who was butler, valet-de-chambre, footman, gardener, and what not, in the house of Milnwood, placed on the table an immense charger of broth, thickened with oatmeal and colewort, in which ocean of liquid was indistinctly discovered, by close observers, two or three short ribs of lean mutton sailing to and fro.
"I hear them say around me," said Lady Margaret, "that the young spark is the nephew of old Milnwood." "The son of the late Colonel Morton of Milnwood, who commanded a regiment of horse with great courage at Dunbar and Inverkeithing," said a gentleman who sate on horseback beside Lady Margaret.
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