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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 could be no doubt it must kill her, and soon.

Jess, the mare, had been sent, with her weather-worn cart, to Howgate, and had doubtless her own dim and placid meditations and confusions on the absence of her master and Rab and her unnatural freedom from the road and her cart. For some days Ailie did well. The wound healed "by the first intention;" for, as James said, "Oor Ailie's skin's ower clean to beil."

Brown, the author of Rab and His Friends, thought that Dickens committed vulgarities in his diction. "A good man was Robin" is right enough; but "He was a good man, was Robin" is not so well, and we must own that it is Dickensian; but assuredly Dickens writes such phrases as it were dramatically, playing the cockney.

A sort of low fever was prevailing in the village, and his want of sleep, his exhaustion, and his misery made him apt to take it. The grave was not difficult to reopen. A fresh fall of snow had again made all things white and smooth; Rab once more looked on, and slunk home to the stable. And what of Rab?

The maniac was startled, looked up to the face of the minister for a moment, and cried, in loud accents, "Belteshazzar! Belteshazzar!" and, as if greatly terrified, ran. He soon stopped and stood at a distance, with his wild, flashing eyes steadfastly fixed on the form of the Rab Mag. Daniel arose, and slowly directed his footsteps towards the spot.

"Well, then, Rab will jeest let her have his bed," said the captain, equably brewing himself some whiskey-and-water, and so on through the evening, during which Mrs. Davidson by no means softened the trouble and inconvenience Bluebell's presence occasioned, whose spirits fell to their lowest depth. Was it to be wondered at that Harry Dutton recurred pretty constantly to her mind?

It was a gaunt, gray building with never a window, but a bole high in one corner for the sheaves, and a door low in another corner for auld Rab Jamieson. There was no mill inside, and the place had not been used for years. But the roof was good, and the walls stout and thick, and Wilson soon got to work on his new possession.

Jess, the mare, had been sent, with her weather-worn cart, to Howgate, and had doubtless her own dim and placid meditations and confusions, on the absence of her master and Rab, and her unnatural freedom from the road and her cart. For some days Ailie did well. The wound healed "by the first intention;" for as James said, "Our Ailie's skin's ower clean to beil."

Rab looked on concerned and puzzled, but ready for anything that might turn up, were it to strangle the nurse, the porter, or even me. Ailie and he seemed great friends. "As I was sayin', she's got a kind o' trouble in her breest, doctor; wull ye tak' a look at it?"

Rab looked on concerned and puzzled, but ready for anything that might turn up, were it to strangle the nurse, the porter, or even me. Ailie and he seemed great friends. "As I was sayin', she's got a kind o' trouble in her breest, doctor: wull ye tak' a look at it?"