“I should be sorry to drink that toast, if I could help it,” said Magnus Troil.
“What! you reckon yourself one of the honest folks, I warrant?” said Bunce.—“Tell me your trade, and I’ll tell you what I think of it. As for the punch-maker here, I knew him at first glance to be a tailor, who has, therefore, no more pretensions to be honest, than he has not to be mangy. But you are some High-Dutch skipper, I warrant me, that tramples on the cross when he is in Japan, and denies his religion for a day’s gain.”
“No,” replied the Udaller, “I am a gentleman of Zetland.”
“O, what!” retorted the satirical Mr. Bunce, “you are come from the happy climate where gin is a groat a-bottle, and where there is daylight for ever?”
“At your service, Captain,” said the Udaller, suppressing with much pain s
