"We have here before us a dreeping
roast," said he, "here is cut-and-come-again for all." And
methought all licked their lips. The other was already near the
end. Stewart the Writer was out of the body with delight, smelling
vengeance on his chief enemy, the Duke.
"Gentlemen," cried he, charging his glass, "here is to Sheriff
Miller. His legal abilities are known to all. His culinary, this
bowl in front of us is here to speak for. But when it comes to the
poleetical!"--cries he, and drains the glass.
"Ay, but it will hardly prove politics in your meaning, my friend,"
said the gratified Miller. "A revolution, if you like, and I think
I can promise you that historical writers shall date from Mr.
Balfour's cause. But properly guided, Mr. Stewart, tenderly
guided, it shall prove a peaceful revolution."
"And if the damned Campbells get their ears rubbed, what care I?"
cries Stewart, smiting down his fist.
It will be thought I was not very well pleased with all this,
though I could scarce forbear smiling at a kind of innocency in
these old intriguers.
Pages:
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250