Our hero, therefore, took an affectionate farewell of his Cumberland
friends, whose kindness he promised never to forget, and tacitly hoped
one 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 horsewhip.
This lady was one of those active members of society who take upon them
FAIRE LE FRAIS DE 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.
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