ust as she was lifting the leather-cap from the counter, she said
with a terrible face, looking down to the ground as if she was short
sighted, "Pity me! what's that"?

I could not imagine, gleg as I generally am, what had happened; so came
round about the far end of the counter, with my spectacles on, to see
what it was, when, lo and behold! I perceived a dribbling of blood all
along the clean sanded floor, up and down, as if somebody had been
walking about with a cut finger; but, after looking around us for a
little, we soon found out the thief--and that we did.

The bit doggie was sitting cowering and shivering, and pressing its back
against the counter, giving every now and then a mournful whine, so we
plainly saw that everything was not right. On the which, the wife,
slipping a little back, snapped her finger and thumb before its nose, and
cried out--"Hiskie, poor fellow!" but no--it would not do. She then
tried it by its own name, and bade it rise, saying, "Puggie, Puggie!"
when--would ever mortal man of woman born believe it?--its bit black,
bushy, curly tail, was off by the rump--docked and away, as if it had
been for a wager.

"Eh, megstie!" cried the woman, laying down the leather-cap and the
tied-up parcel, and holding out both her hands in astonishment. "Eh, my
goodness, what's come o' the brute's tail? Lovyding! just see, it's
clean gane! Losh keep me! that's awfu'! Div ye keep rotten-fa's about
your premises, Maister Wauch? See, a bonny business as ever happened in
the days of ane's lifetime!"

As a furnishing tailor, as a Christian, and as an inhabitant of Dalkeith,
my corruption was raised--was up like a flash of lightning, or a cat's
back. Such doings in an enlightened age and a civilized country!--in a
town where we have three kirks, a grammar school, a subscription library,
a ladies' benevolent society, a mechanics' institution, and a debating
club! My heart burned within me like dry tow; and I could mostly have
jumped up to the ceiling with vexation and anger--seeing as plain as a
pikestaff, though the simple woman did not, that it was the handiwork of
none other than our neighbour Reuben Cursecowl, the butcher. Dog on it,
it was too bad--it was a rascally transaction; so, come of it what would,
I could not find it in my heart to screen him. "I'll wager, however,"
said I, in a kind of off-hand way, not wishing exactly, ye observe, to be
seen in the business, "that it will have been run