"Bother those Romans, whoever they were, if they really ever existed at all! You are ever and aye stuffing Quentin wi' these Romans and their sayings and doings."
"Indubitably, and I would that I could teach him all that was ever known to the seven wise men o' Greece."
"And who were they?"
"Bias, Pittacus, Solon, Chilo, Periander, Cleobulus, and Thales," replied the dominie with singular volubility; "all men who flourished before the Christian era."
"Powder and pipeclay! Egad, I'm glad they don't flourish now. Their names sound just like those of a regiment of niggers we had at the siege of Boston. Pardon, dominie,—but I must have my joke. I wish I could teach Quentin something of fortification," he added thoughtfully, as he watched the pale smoke from his pipe curling up towards the ceiling.
"It is an art almost coeval wi' man," responded the other approvingly.
"True," rejoined the quartermaster; "for did not Cain build a city with a wall round it on Mount Libuan, and call it after his son Enoch?"
"Right, quartermaster, right!" said the pedant, rubbing his hands with pleasure. "Yea, and the Babylonians, after the waters of the flood, built them cities, and wi' strong ramparts encompassed them about; but I hope, if I live, to hear Quentin Kennedy expound on all that and more, in the pulpit of Rohallion kirk."
"What!" roared the quartermaster, in a tone that made the dominie start back; "make a minister of him?"
"Yea, John Girvan; and wherefore not?"