Rab had the dignity and simplicity of great size; and having fought his way 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 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 and stir of youth.  The surgeon with his staff of assistants is there.  In comes Ailie:  one look at her quiets and abates the eager students.  That beautiful old woman is too much for them; they sit down, and are dumb, and gaze at her.  These rough boys feel the power of her presence.  She walks in quickly, but without haste; dressed in her mutch, her neckerchief, her white dimity short-gown, her black bombazine petticoat, showing her white worsted stockings and her carpet-shoes.  Behind her was James with Rab.  James sat down in the distance, and took that huge and noble head between his knees.  Rab looked perplexed and dangerous; forever cocking his ear and dropping it as fast.