er's; the remaining eye had the power of
two; and above it, and in constant communication with it, was a tattered
rag of an ear, which was forever unfurling itself, like an old flag; and
then that bud of a tail, about one inch long, if it could in any sense
be said to be long, being as broad as long--the mobility, the
instantaneousness of that bud were very funny and surprising, and its
expressive twinklings and winkings, the intercommunications between the
eye, the ear, and it, were of the oddest and swiftest.

Rab had the dignity and simplicity of great size; and having fought his
way all along the road to absolute supremacy, he was as mighty in his
own line as Julius Caesar or the Duke of Wellington, and had the gravity
of all great fighters.

You must have often observed the likeness of certain men to certain
animals, and of certain dogs to men. Now, I never looked at Rab without
thinking of the great Baptist preacher, Andrew Fuller. The same large,
heavy, menacing, combative, sombre, honest countenance, the same deep
inevitable eye, the same look--as of thunder asleep, but ready--neither
a dog nor a man to be trifled with.

Next day, my master, the surgeon, examined Ailie. There was no doubt it
must kill her, and soon. It could be removed--it might never return--it
would give her speedy relief--she should have it done.

She curtsied, looked at James, and said, "When?"

"To-morrow," said the kind surgeon--a man of few words.

She and James and Rab and I retired. I noticed that he and she spoke a
little, but seemed to anticipate everything in each other. The following
day at noon, the students came in, hurrying up the great stair. At the
first landing-place, on a small well-known blackboard, was a bit of
paper fastened by wafers and many remains of old wafers beside it. On
the paper were the words--"An operation to-day. J. B., _Clerk_."

Up ran the youths, eager to secure good places; in they crowded, full of
interest and talk.

"What's the case? Which side is it?"

Don't think them heartless; they are neither better nor worse than you
or I; they get over their professional horrors, and into their proper
work; and in them pity--as an _emotion_, ending in itself or at best in
tears and a long-drawn breath, lessens, while pity as a _motive_ is
quickened, and gains power and purpose. It is well for poor human
nature that it is so.

The operating theatre is crowded; much talk and fun, and all the
cordiality a