The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

134 WAVERlLEY NOVELS.
" Me! what could I hinder him?-your honour wadna hae us contradict
the captain e'en now, and him maybe deeing?"
"Dying!" said the alarmed Antiquary, — "eh! what? has he been
worse?"
" Na, he's no nae waur that I ken of."*
"Then he must be better-and what good is a dog and a gun to do here,
but the one to destroy all my furniture, steal from my larder, and perhaps
worry the cat, and the other to shoot somebody through the head. He has
had gunning and pistolling enough to serve him one while, I should think."
Here Miss Oldbuck entered the parlour, at the door of which Oldbuck
was carrying on this conversation, he bellowing downward to Jenny, and
she again screaming upward in reply.
"Dear brother,' said the old lady, "ye'll cry yoursell as hoarse as a
corbie — is that the way to skreigh when there's a sick person in the
house?"
" Upon my word, the sick person's like to have all the house to himself.
I have gone without my breakfast, and am like to go without my wig; and.
I must not, I suppose, presume to say I feel either hunger or cold, for fear
of disturbing the sick gentleman who lies six rooms off, and who feels himself well enough to send for his dog and gun, though he knows I detest
such implements ever since our elder brother, poor Willieward, marched
out of the world on a pair of damp feet caught in the Kittlefitting-moss.
But that signifies nothing; I suppose I shall be expected by and by to lend
a hand to carry Squire Hector out upon his litter, while he indulges his
sportsman-like propensities by shooting my pigeons, or my turkeys —I think
any of theferce naturce are safe fiom him for one while."
Miss M'Intyre now entered, and began her usual morning's task of arranging her uncle's breakfast, with the alertness of one who is too late in
setting about a task, and is anxious to make up for lost time. But this did
not avail her. " Take care, you silly womankind.-that mum's too near the
fire-the bottle will burst; and I suppose you intend to reduce the toast to
a cinder as a burnt-offering for Juno, or what do you call her-the female
dog there, with some such Pantheon kind of a name, that your wise brother
has, in his first moments of mature reflection, ordered up as a fitting inmate
of my house (I thank him), and meet company to aid the rest of the womankind of my household in their daily conversation and intercourse with
him."
" Dear uncle, don't be angry about the poor spaniel; she's been tied up
at my brother's lodgings at Fairport, and she's broke her chain twice, and
came running down here to him; and you would not have us beat the faithful beast away from the door? - it moans as if it had some sense of poor
Hector's misfortune, and will hardly stir from the door of his room."
"' Why,' said his uncle, "they said Caxon had gone to Fairport after his
dog and gun."
"0O dear sir, no," answered Miss M'Intyre, "it was to fetch some dressings that were wanted, and Hector only wished him to bring out his gun,
as he was going to Fairport at any rate."
"Well, then, it is not altogether so foolish a business, considering what
a mess of womankind have been about it-Dressings, quotha?-and who is
to dress my wig? -But I suppose Jenny will undertake" - continued the
old bachelor, looking at himself in the glass-" to make it somewhat decent.
And now let us set to breakfast-with what appetite we may. Well may
I say to Hector, as Sir Isaac Newton did to his dog Diamond, when the
animal (I detest dogs) flung down the taper among calculations which had
occupied the philosopher for twenty years, and consumed the whole mass
* It is, I believe, a piece of free-masonry, or a point of conscience, among the Scottish lower orders, never
to admit that a patient is doing better. The closest approach to recovery which they can be brought to
allow, is, that the party inquired after is "Nae waur."