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.
'Oh, 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.' 'Oh 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 bag!' Fortunately the good lady did not stick long to one subject.