OR THE COURT CAVE OF FIFE.
rising in height nearly to the roof, affording a view of the Forth, and admitting light to the place.
The inhabitants of the cave had ranged themselves along the north and inner side. Nearest the western entrance, stretched on sacks, sheepskins, cloaks, and other nondescript articles of clothing, sat, or rather lay, ten or twelve men, with rather more than double that number of women, all busily engaged in drinking; farther off, some ragged crones were busily superintending the operation of a wood-fire on a suspended pot; while, farther off still, a few barebacked asses, and a plentiful variety of worse-clad children, were enjoying their common straw.
Arthur was immediately introduced to the company of carousers, some of whom received him with a shout of welcome, but others, with evident dissatisfaction; and he overheard, as he seated himself, what seemed an angry expostulation and reply pass between his conductor and one of the party. This individual, who was evidently the chief of the gang, was an aged man, with a beard of silver-grey, which, as he sat, descended to his lap, entirely covering his breast. His head was quite bald, with the exception of a few hairs that still struggled for existence behind his ears, and this, added to the snowy whiteness of his eye-brows, and the deep wrinkles in his brow and cheeks, would have conferred an air of reverence on his countenance, had not the sinister expression of his small and fiery-looking eyes destroyed the charm. On each side of him sat a young girl, the prettiest of the company; and the familiar manner in which they occasionally lolled on the old man's bosom, and fondled with his neck and beard, shewed the intimate terms on which they lived with him. The rest of the men were of various ages; and, though all of them were marked with that mixed expression of daring recklessness and extreme cunning, which has long been 'the badge of all their tribe,' they attracted (with one exception) little of Arthur's attention. Of the women, the very young ones were extremely pretty, the middle-aged and old ones more than equally ugly. Young and old, pretty and ill-favoured, all were alike deficient in that retiring modesty of expression, without which no face can be accounted truly lovely, and the want of which darkens into hideousness the plainness of homely features. They joined freely in the draughts which their male companions were making from the horns, which, filled with wine and ale, circulated among the company, and laughed as loud and joked as boldly as they did.
Arthur seated himself in silence, and, something neglectful
