Will never remind you to-morrow ofthe favor he did you last night."
"Needs time," said Francis, "and a careful fining--a little egg-shelland the white of one egg."
"One might risk it," said Wilmington. "But I would rather use a milkfining. It is more delicate, and the wine recovers sooner, unless thedose of milk be too large. But above all, Hamilton, be careful aboutthe moon. A summer fining might be better, but touch it lightly."
"What on earth has the moon to do with it?" said Chestnut.
"If you want to spoil a Madeira," answered Wilmington, "fine it at thechange of the moon. I spoiled my dark Harriet that way. Always fine awine during the decline of the moon."
"I shall call this wine 'Smoke,'" said Hamilton. "Its name is reallyPalido. Certainly it has a great future. No better wine ever coastedalong the shores of this table, and it has seen many vinous voyages. Andnow for a very interesting vintage. A little more bread, John. 'Withthe sun.'"
Wilmington ate a morsel of bread, rinsed a glass in the bowl before him,filled it to the brim, and slowly emptied it. Then he set it downdeliberately.
"That is not Madeira, Hamilton; that is sherry. Some mistake."
"What!" cried Francis. "Wrong for once! It is Madeira, and old,--tooold, I should say."
"I thought I should puzzle you. I have but little of it left, and it isnew to all of you. Two generations have disputed its parentage."
"I might be mistaken," said Wilmington. "There are Madeiras so likesome rare sherries as to puzzle any palate."
"I myself," said Hamilton, "have an inherited belief that it is Madeira.It is difficult to tell, at times, a very old Madeira from a very agedsherry. The Burd wine was remarkable because no one could decide thisquestion. I have heard an old friend remark that the age of all greatwines brought them together as to taste. Thus a certain Charles Marchgrape-juice and Blue Seal Johannisberger were scarcely to be toldapart."
"I leave you to settle it," said Chestnut, rising, well aware how longthe talk would last. "The knowledge I have acquired has, of a verity,gone to my head,--I suppose because, as Miss M---- says, nature abhors avacuum. Thank you for a delightful evening."
"But sit down for five minutes," said Hamilton, who had risen with hisguest. "There is a beautiful story about this wine. I must tell it,even if it be familiar to Wilmington as his own best joke."
"Delighted," said Chestnut, resuming his place.
"Well," said Hamilton, "I will not keep you long. This wine came ashoreon Absecom Beach from a Spanish wreck, about 1770. Then it was broughtto Trenton, and my great-uncle bought it. All but a demijohn was buriedin his garden at the old house, not far from Princeton, to keep it outof British stomachs. The one demijohn kept for use made the mischief Ishall tell you of.
"Try that grape-juice, Wilmington. No? Then let Francis have hiscigar. My Cuban friend shocks me with the late rise of prices.Eighteen dollars a thousand makes one hesitate."
"It does, indeed," said Francis. And soon the room was hazy withdelicate smoke, as Hamilton continued:
"It was during the war, you know. My great-uncle Edward, who was withWashington, heard that his wife was ill. He got leave, managed to crossthe Delaware, and in citizen's clothes made his way to his owncountry-house near Princeton. There he learned that she was notseriously ill, and as the country was full of British scouts, heresolved to go back next day to his duties in Washington's camp. Thefriend who had aided his adventure and was to set him across theDelaware again, came in about nine of the evening; and to aid them withthe wisdom which is in wine, the demijohn of this disputed wine wasbrought out. Also a noble bowl of rum punch was brewed, and diversbottles were allowed their say, so that when Mr. Trent departed, UncleNed retired in some haste lest he should not be able to retire at all.It is probable that he left the candles to burn, and the hall door toclose itself. About three in the morning, having snored off his rum andsome wine, and hearing a noise, he put on his boots and a wrapper, andtaking his pistols, went down-stairs. As he entered the dining-roomthere were candles burning, fresh logs on the fire, and facing him satan English captain, with his dirty boots on my aunt's best Chippendalearm-chair, and in act to swallow a glass of wine. Uncle Ned steppedthrough the open door and covered the unexpected guest with his pistol,at the same time remarking (and he was really the most imperturbable ofmen), 'Perhaps you are not aware that you are making free with my bestMadeira, and really--'
"'Don't shoot, I beg you, until I finish my glass,' said the captain,calmly. 'Did I understand you to say Madeira? Madeira! It'ssherry--unmistakably sherry! Of course, I don't dispute the ownership.'
"'Very kind of you,' remarked Uncle Ned. 'There seems to have been aconsiderable transfer of ownership.'
"'That is so,' replied the captain. 'I am like Mary after she ate herlamb. "Every where that Mary went that lamb was sure to go." Permit meto apologize. The sherry--'
"'I have had the honor to assure you that it is Madeira.'
"'Madeira! Great George!'
"Now Uncle Ned hated the king, and loved his wife, and greatly honoredhis own taste in wine. Both his prejudices and his affection had beenlightly dealt with, so he said tartly: 'There is only one Great George,and he is across the Delaware, and the wine is Madeira, and you havesoiled my wife's chair; and I wait, sir, to learn your errand.'
"'I grieve, sir, to say that you will quite too soon know my errand,when I call up the troopers who are back of the house; or if you are inhaste a shot from you will do as well. Meanwhile permit me most humblyto apologize to Mrs. Hamilton. I regret to continue to differ concerningthe wine. As to your George, he is a very small rebel George. And nowI am obliged most reluctantly to finish my unfortunate business;perhaps, however, we had better see the last of the wine; you may nothave another opportunity.'
"These remarks somewhat sobered Uncle Ned, and he became of a suddenaware of the trap he was in. So he sat down, with his pistolsconvenient, and saying, 'With all my heart,' began to push the bottle.The Britisher was good company, and his temper was already so mellowedby wine that he was fast nearing the stage of abrupt mental decay whichmellowness naturally precedes. He graciously accepted a tumbler ofpunch, which my uncle contrived to make pretty strong, and thennumberless glasses of wine, enlivened by very gay stories, at which myuncle was clever. At last the captain rose and said with some gravity,'The glasses appear to be all t-twins. We have made a night of it.When you make a n-night of it you improve the s-shining hours. And nowmy painful duty--'
"'One glass more,' said my uncle; 'and about that story. Pray pardon me,I interrupted you.'
"'Oh, yes,' said the captain, emptying a very stiff glass of rum punch,which by no means put its own quality into the lessening vigor of hislegs. 'As I was saying, I knew a man once--very clever man; loved agirl--very clever girl. Man consumedly fond of liquor. Girl did n'tknow which he liked best, the wine or the woman. One day that girl--hetold her a very foolish story about not askin' for wine if she would puta k-kiss in the glass. And that day, instead of a k-kiss she put alittle note inside the decanter; and when he had drunk up the wine, andthe men were laughing at this f-fashion of billet-doux, he broke thedecanter with the poker and r-read the note. Give you my word, he neverdrank a drop after that; and the note, it was a very c-clever note, andit just said--' But at this moment the captain made a queer noise inhis throat, and slipped down, overcome with rebel rum and much Madeira.Uncle Ned humanely loosened his cravat and sword-belt, and lost no timein creeping through the dark to his friend's house, where he foundclothes and a good horse. He was back in camp next day."
"And so this was the wine," said Chestnut; "and the man and the maid aregone, and the wine is still here. But the end of the story?--what thegirl said in her note?"
"Ask the wine," laughed Hamilton, "or ask some good woman. No manknows. We shall find Mrs. Hamilton and my daughters in thedrawing-room. They must be at home by this time. You can ask them."
"With all my heart," said
Chestnut.
"That is, if you have had enough tobacco," added the host.
"Just one more glass from the disputed bottle," said Wilmington, risingwith the rest, and holding his glass between his face and the lights."As our old table-customs seem to interest you, Chestnut, I give you atoast which I have drunk now these fifty years. Once it was a presentjoy; it is now but a sad remembrance. Quite often I say it to myselfwhen I take my last glass in company; and always when I dine alone I sayit aloud, or it seems to