A GENTLEMAN who had recently returned from the East Indies, where he had made a large fortune, which he showed no great alacrity about spending, was, it seems, one day of opinion that his company had had enough of wine rather sooner than they came to that conclusion; he offered another bottle in feeble and hesitating terms, and remained dallying with the corkscrew, as if in hopes that some one would interfere and prevent further effusion of Bourdeaux.
“Sir,” said Burns, losing his temper, and betraying in his mood something of the old rusticity. “Sir, you have been in Asia, and for aught I know on the Mount of Moriah, and you seem to hang over your tappit-hen as remorsefully as Abraham did over his son Isaac. Come, sir, to the sacrifice!”