The mastiff had sound teeth that took this out, I warrant me;" and the good doctor's sympathy seemed to run off to the quadruped he had conjured, his jackal.
"This must be cauterized forthwith, or we shall have you starting back from water, and turning somersaults in bed under our hands.

'Tis the year for raving curs, and one hath done your business; but we will baffle him yet.

Urchin, go heat thine iron." "But, sir," edged in Gerard, "'twas no dog, but a bear." "A bear! Young man," remonstrated the senior severely, "think what you say; 'tis ill jesting with the man of art who brings his grey hairs and long study to heal you.

A bear, quotha! Had you dissected as many bears as I, or the tithe, and drawn their teeth to keep your hand in, you would know that no bear's jaw ever made this foolish trifling wound.

I tell you 'twas a dog, and since you put me to it, I even deny that it was a dog of magnitude, but neither more nor less than one of these little furious curs that are so rife, and run devious, biting each manly leg, and laying its wearer low, but for me and my learned brethren, who still stay the mischief with knife and cautery." "Alas, sir! when said I 'twas a bear's jaw?
I said, 'A bear:' it was his paw, now." "And why didst not tell me that at once ?" "Because you kept telling me instead." "Never conceal aught from your leech, young man," continued the senior, who was a good talker, but one of the worst listeners in Europe.