"Pray, MacGrawler, why do they call Edinburgh the Modern Athens ?" "Because of the learned and great men it produces," returned MacGrawler, with conscious pride.
"Pooh! pooh!--you are thinking of ancient Athens.

Your city is called the modern Athens because you are all so like the modern Athenians,--the greatest scoundrels imaginable, unless travellers belie them." "Nay," interrupted Ned, who was softened by the applause of the critic, "Mac is a good fellow, spare him.

Gentlemen, your health.

I am going to bed, and I suppose you will not tarry long behind me." "Trust us for that," answered Tomlinson; "the captain and I will consult on the business of the morrow, and join you in the twinkling of a bedpost, as it has been shrewdly expressed." Ned yawned his last "good-night," and disappeared within the dormitory.
MacGrawler, yawning also, but with a graver yawn, as became his wisdom, betook himself to the duty of removing the supper paraphernalia: after bustling soberly about for some minutes, he let down a press-bed in the corner of the cave (for he did not sleep in the robbers' apartment), and undressing himself, soon appeared buried in the bosom of Morpheus.

But the chief and Tomlinson, drawing their seats nearer to the dying embers, defied the slothful god, and entered with low tones into a close and anxious commune.
"So, then," said Augustus, "now that you have realized sufficient funds for your purpose, you will really desert us?
Have you well weighed the pros and cons?
Remember that nothing is so dangerous to our state as reform; the moment a man grows honest, the gang forsake him; the magistrate misses his fee; the informer peaches; and the recusant hangs." "I have well weighed all this," answered Clifford, "and have decided on my course.