BULLER.
A total-abstinent!
NORTH.
By heavens! he echoes me. Pleasant, but mournful to the soul is the memory of joys that are past! A tinful of the unchristened creature to the health of the Silent People. Oh! Buller, there are no Silent People now.
BULLER.
In your company, sir, I am always willing to be a listener.
NORTH.
Well, on I flew as on wings.
BULLER.
What! Up Cruackan?