THE HIGHLAND WIDOW. 383

Our motions were of course under Donald's direction ; and it
frequently happened, when the weather was serene, that we pre-
ferred halting to rest his horses even where there was no established
stage, and taking our refreshment under a crag, from which leaped
a waterfall, or beside the verge of a fountain, enamelled with ver-
dant turf and wild-flowers. Donald had an eye for such spots, and
though he had, I dare say, never read Gil Bias or Don Quixote,
yet he chose such halting-places as Le Sage or Cervantes would
have described. Very often, as he observed the pleasure 1 took in
conversing with the country people, he would manage to fix our
place of rest near a cottage where there was some old Gael, whose
broadsword had blazed at Falkirk or Preston, and who seemed the
frail yet faithful record of times which had passed away. Or he
would contrive to quarter us, as far as a cup of tea went, upon the
hospitality of some parish minister of worth and intelligence, or
some country family of the better class, who mingled with the wild
simplicity of their original manners, and their ready and hospitable
welcome, a sort of courtesy belonging to a people, the lowest of
whom are accustomed to consider themselves as being, according
to the Spanish phrase, " as good gentlemen as the king, only not
quite so rich."

To all such persons Donald MacLeisH was well known, and his
introduction passed as current as if we had brought letters from
some high chief of the country.
