Which of your crackbrained Italian romancers is it that says, Io d'Elicona niente Mi curo, in fe de Dio, che'il bere d'acque (Bea chi ber ne vuol) sempre me spiacque! [Good sooth, I reck not of your Helicon; Drink water whoso will, in faith I will drink none.] But if you prefer the Gaelic, Captain Waverley, here is little Cathleen shall sing you Drimmindhu .-- Come, Cathleen, ASTORE (i.e.my dear), begin; no apologies to the CEANKINNE.' Cathleen sang with much liveliness a little Gaelic song, the burlesque elegy of a countryman on the loss of his cow, the comic tones of which, though he did not understand the language, made Waverley laugh more than once.

[This ancient Gaelic ditty is still well known, both in the Highlands and in Ireland.

It was translated into English, and published, if I mistake not, under the auspices of the facetious Tom D'Urfey, by the title of 'Colley, my Cow.'] 'Admirable, Cathleen!' cried the Chieftain; 'I must find you a handsome husband among the clansmen one of these days.' Cathleen laughed, blushed, and sheltered herself behind her companion.
In the progress of their return to the castle, the Chieftain warmly pressed Waverley to remain for a week or two, in order to see a grand hunting party, in which he and some other Highland gentlemen proposed to join.

The charms of melody and beauty were too strongly impressed in Edward's breast to permit his declining an invitation so pleasing.
It was agreed, therefore, that he should write a note to the Baron of Bradwardine, expressing his intention to stay a fortnight at Glennaquoich, and requesting him to forward by the bearer (a GILLY of the Chieftain's) any letters which might have arrived for him.
This turned the discourse upon the Baron, whom Fergus highly extolled as a gentleman and soldier.

His character was touched with yet more discrimination by Flora, who observed that he was the very model of the old Scottish cavalier, with all his excellences and peculiarities.