Liveries, armorial bearings, amongst other matters the Game-laws:
He could speak, and was asked to by Adam; but Lindsay aloud cried,
(Whisky was hot in his brain,) Confound it, no, not Hewson,
Ain’t he cock-sure to bring in his eternal political humbug?
However, so it must be, and after due pause of silence,
Waving his hand to Lindsay, and smiling oddly to Adam,
Up to them rose and spoke the poet and radical Hewson:—
I am, I think, perhaps the most perfect stranger present.
I have not, as have some of my friends, in my veins some tincture,
Some few ounces of Scottish blood; no, nothing like it.