at her husband's wounds, the state of which he had refused to permit him to examine. Mrs Dinmont was used to her husband's broken heads more than to the presence of a captain of dragoons. She therefore glanced at a table cloth, not quite clean, and conned over her proposed supper a minute or two, before, patting her husband on the shoulder, she bade him sit down for "a hard-headed loon, that was aye bringing himsell and other folk into collie-shangies."
When Dandy Dinmont, after executing two or three caprioles, and cutting the Highland-fling, by way of ridicule of his wife's anxiety, at last deigned to sit down, and commit his round, black, shaggy bullet of a head to her inspection. Brown thought he had seen the regimental surgeon look grave upon a more trifling case. The goodwife, however, showed some knowledge of chirurgery—she cut away with her scissars the gory locks, whose stiffened and coagulated clusters interfered with
