"He has nine times as many parts as we have already.

Is he not a critic, and has he not the parts of speech at his fingers' end ?" "Nonsense!" said MacGrawler, instinctively holding up his hands, with the fork dropping between the outstretched fingers of the right palm.
"Nonsense yourself," cried Ned; "you have a share in what you never took! A pretty fellow, truly! Mind your business, Mr.Scot, and fork nothing but the beefsteaks!" With this Ned turned to the stables, and soon disappeared among the horses; but Clifford, eying the disappointed and eager face of the culinary sage, took ten guineas from his own share, and pushed them towards his quondam tutor.
"There!" said he, emphatically.
"Nay, nay," grunted MacGrawler; "I don't want the money,--it is my way to scorn such dross!" So saying, he pocketed the coins, and turned, muttering to himself, to the renewal of his festive preparations.
Meanwhile a whispered conversation took place between Augustus and the captain, and continued till Ned returned.
"And the night's viands smoked along the board!" Souls of Don Raphael and Ambrose Lamela, what a charming thing it is to be a rogue for a little time! How merry men are when they have cheated their brethren! Your innocent milksops never made so jolly a supper as did our heroes of the way.

Clifford, perhaps acted a part, but the hilarity of his comrades was unfeigned.

It was a delicious contrast,--the boisterous "ha, ha!" of Long Ned, and the secret, dry, calculating chuckle of Augustus Tomlinson.

It was Rabelais against Voltaire.