If I cannot send disease into families, and murrain among the herds, can I attain the same end so well as by prolonging the lives of those who can serve the purpose of destruction as effectually ?--If Alice of Bower had died in winter, would young Ruthwin have been slain for her love the last spring ?--Who thought of penning their cattle beneath the tower when the Red Reiver of Westburnflat was deemed to be on his death-bed ?--My draughts, my skill, recovered him.

And, now, who dare leave his herd upon the lea without a watch, or go to bed without unchaining the sleuth-hound ?" "I own," answered Earnscliff; "you did little good to society by the last of these cures.

But, to balance the evil, there is my friend Hobbie, honest Hobbie of the Heugh-foot, your skill relieved him last winter in a fever that might have cost him his life." "Thus think the children of clay in their ignorance," said: the Dwarf, smiling maliciously, "and thus they speak in their folly.

Have you marked the young cub of a wild cat that has been domesticated, how sportive, how playful, how gentle,--but trust him with your game, your lambs, your poultry, his inbred ferocity breaks forth; he gripes, tears, ravages, and devours." "Such is the animal's instinct," answered Earnscliff; "but what has that to do with Hobbie ?" "It is his emblem--it is his picture," retorted the Recluse.

"He is at present tame, quiet, and domesticated, for lack of opportunity to exercise his inborn propensities; but let the trumpet of war sound--let the young blood-hound snuff blood, he will be as ferocious as the wildest of his Border ancestors that ever fired a helpless peasant's abode.