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Scott, Walter, Sir, 1771-1832

"The Abbot"

I want to hear the news from Saint Mary's before you see
my lord, and I will let you know how the wind sits up yonder."
While he thus spoke, he led the way to a side door which opened into
the court; and threading several dark passages with the air of one who
knew the most secret recesses of the palace, conducted them to a small
matted chamber, where he placed bread and cheese and a foaming flagon
of ale before the falconer and his young companion, who immediately
did justice to the latter in a hearty draught, which nearly emptied
the measure. Having drawn his breath, and dashed the froth from his
whiskers, he observed, that his anxiety for the boy had made him
deadly dry.
"Mend your draught," said his hospitable friend, again supplying the
flagon from a pitcher which stood beside. "I know the way to the
butterybar. And now, mind what I say--this morning the Earl of Morton
came to my lord in a mighty chafe."
"What! they keep the old friendship, then?" said Woodcock.
"Ay, ay, man, what else?" said Michael; "one hand must scratch the
other. But in a mighty chafe was my Lord of Morton, who, to say truth,
looketh on such occasions altogether uncanny, and, as it were,
fiendish; and he says to my lord,--for I was in the chamber taking
orders about a cast of hawks that are to be fetched from
Darnoway--they match your long-winged falcons, friend Adam."
"I will believe that when I see them fly as high a pitch," replied
Woodcock, this professional observation forming a sort of parenthesis.


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