One cause of delay, however, did occur, to which Waverley had been very little accustomed.  His purse, though well stocked when he first went to Tully-Veolan, had not been reinforced since that period; and although his life since had not been of a nature to exhaust it hastily, for he had lived chiefly with his friends or with the army, yet he found that, after settling with his kind landlord, he should be too poor to encounter the expense of travelling post.  The best course, therefore, seemed to be to get into the great north road about Boroughbridge, and there take a place in the northern diligence, a huge old-fashioned tub, drawn by three horses, which completed the journey from Edinburgh to London (God willing, as the advertisement expressed it) in three weeks.  Our hero, therefore, took an affectionate farewell of his Cumberland friends, whose kindness he promised never to forget, and tacitly hoped ene day to acknowledge by substantial proofs of gratitude.  After some petty difficulties and vexatious delays, and after putting his dress into a shape better befitting his rank, though perfectly plain and simple, he accomplished crossing the country, and found himself in the desired vehicle vis-a-vis to Mrs. Nosebag, the lady of Lieutenant Nosebag, adjutant and riding-master of the—­dragoons, a jolly woman of about fifty, wearing a blue habit, faced with scarlet, and grasping a silver-mounted horse-whip.

This lady was one of those active members of society who take upon them faire lefrais de la conversation.  She had just returned from the north, and informed Edward how nearly her regiment had cut the petticoat people into ribands at Falkirk, ’only somehow there was one of those nasty, awkward marshes, that they are never without in Scotland, I think, and so our poor dear little regiment suffered something, as my Nosebag says, in that unsatisfactory affair.  You, sir, have served in the dragoons?’ Waverley was taken so much at unawares that he acquiesced.

’O, I knew it at once; I saw you were military from your air, and I was sure you could be none of the foot-wobblers, as my Nosebag calls them.  What regiment, pray?’ Here was a delightful question.  Waverley, however, justly concluded that this good lady had the whole army-list by heart; and, to avoid detection by adhering to truth, answered, ’Gardiner’s dragoons, ma’am; but I have retired some time.’

’O aye, those as won the race at the battle of Preston, as my Nosebag says.  Pray, sir, were you there?’

‘I was so unfortunate, madam,’ he replied, ’as to witness that engagement.’

’And that was a misfortune that few of Gardiner’s stood to witness, I believe, sir—­ha! ha! ha!  I beg your pardon; but a soldier’s wife loves a joke.’

‘Devil confound you,’ thought Waverley:  ’what infernal luck has penned me up with this inquisitive hag!’