I think really
he was not far wrong. In the corner sat Kelly, crouched together like a
baboon, blubbering, hurrahing, invoking the saints, cursing the sweaters,
and blessing the present company. We were afraid, for several days, that
his wits were seriously affected.
And, in his old arm-chair, pipe in mouth, sat good Sandy Mackaye, wiping
his eyes with the many-coloured sleeve, and moralizing to himself, _sotto
voce_:
"The auld Romans made slaves o' their debitors; sae did the Anglo-Saxons,
for a' good Major Cartwright has writ to the contrary. But I didna ken
the same Christian practice was part o' the Breetish constitution. Aweel,
aweel--atween Riot Acts, Government by Commissions, and ither little
extravagants and codicils o' Mammon's making, it's no that easy to ken,
the day, what is the Breetish constitution, and what isn't. Tak a drappie,
Billy Porter, lad?"
"Never again so long as I live. I've learnt a lesson and a half about that,
these last few months."
"Aweel, moderation's best, but abstinence better than naething. Nae man
shall deprive me o' my leeberty, but I'll tempt nae man to gie up his.
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