“ To consider with care some new Madeiras is—well, for that a man should have perfect health and entire tranquillity of mind. Sir, the drinking of these great wines is something more than a social ceremony or the indulgence of an appetite. It is, sir,—but I see Francis smiling—you may imagine the rest. I had an old friend who, when dying, declined to have his wine whey made out of a famous old Madeira, saying that it was a waste of a good thing on a palate which was past knowing sherry from port. ”

“ I never lift to my lips a glass of this noble wine without seeing faces that are gone, and hearing the voices and the laughter and the jests that are no more."
"Wine makes poets of us all!" exclaimed Hamilton. "Once I asked Wilmington what he saw, for he was staring down into his glass, and he said he saw memories. By George! we were all as still as mice for a moment. But he is right; there is but one wine, and that, like tobacco, is an American discovery."
"I can talk tobacco with you all day," said Chestnut. "Wine is another matter. ”

“ Meanwhile another decanter went round.
"I congratulate you," cried Wilmington, as he set down his glass. "A perfect grape-juice—new to me too. High up, sir; very high up"; and refilling his glass, he sent on the coaster. "Observe, Chestnut, the refinement of it; neither the sweet nor the bouquet is too obvious. It is like a well-bred lady. Observe what a gamut of delicate flavors; none are excessive. And then at last there remains in the mouth a sort of fugitive memory of its delightfulness."
"As one remembers the lady when she is gone," said Francis. ”

“ And this man says he has no palate! That is the charm of these lovely wines: they are many things to many lovers—have for each a separate enchantment. I thought it was a rose-water taste; but no matter, you may be correct. But Hamilton can give you a better wine. No grape-juice can compete with the best Madeiras. In wine and man the noblest social flavors come with years. It is pure waste to ask to dinner any man under forty. ”

“ I have one pistol. If there are two men and you are quick, these will suffice. If there are three men, we are lost.' It was dark as I stood, for we never used candles save when we ate, and to quiet the baby. I reflected quickly that, as the Duke could not have put back the staves, they who were searching must easily find the trap; and so it was, for just as he said softly, 'Keep still every one,' the trap was lifted a little and a ray of blinding candle-light shot through the narrow space. ”

“ In this changeless atmosphere our great wines are long-lived. Have a care not to disturb the wines as we go up the stairs."
"We shall carry them with care," I replied, laughing, "until we have swallowed them."
"And then without care, I trust," cried the younger St. Maur. "Let us go; it is chilly here."
"A moment," said the Duke. "M. Michel will desire to know why all this costuming, and the bottles in mourning, and this ancient cellar."
"True," I returned. "I was about to ask."
"Well, well," said Des Illes. ”

“ How refined, how delicate it is!"
"Ah, you will learn," cried Wilmington. "But wait a little. A grape-juice never becomes what we denominate a Madeira."
"I don't agree with you," said the host.
"We are in very deep water now," laughed Francis. "I, myself, think the finest of the old dry Madeiras were once sugary maidens."
"Nonsense," said Hamilton, passing the next wine. "With the sun."
"Why with the sun?" said Chestnut, infinitely delighted by these little social superstitions and the odd phrases.
"Because it sours a wine to send it to the right," said Wilmington, dryly. ”

“ The sun of many summers is locked up in these bottles."
"I wall take Chambertin," said the Duke.
"And I, Pomard," said his son.
"And I," said Des Illes, "Romanée Conti. But all here are in the peerage of wines."
Then, when each of this curious company had made his choice, our host said to us:
"It will be best that I choose for you. There is already enough of Burgundy to trouble some toes to-morrow. Shall we say Bordeaux? Here are two of long descent, and one is a comet-wine—of a name long lost—and one is Laffitte, and both are in good order; neither is less than thirty years old. ”

“ Meantime the talk continued, while Chestnut looked on, much amused at the gravity which of a sudden fell upon the party.
"Olives?"
"No," said Wilmington, declining. "Nothing cleans the palate like bread. For red wines, a peach helps one's taste. Your table is perfect, Hamilton;" and, turning to the servant, "It does you credit, Uncle John. How many a fellow must have rolled under it when it was young! Ah, your old decanters and those coasters could tell some queer tales."
"A pretty word, 'coaster,'" remarked Chestnut. "Coasters delivering wine at the human harbors around the table." ”

“ The thief was away not more than five minutes. He left the lantern beside my mother.
"'Well?' said she, as he reappeared.
"'Madame,' he answered, the tunnel from the wine-cellar has fallen in: a great tumble of stone fills up all the way.'
"'And to go back is impossible,' said the Duke.
"'Heaven has willed for us that we go on, and at least now no one can pursue us,' said my mother.
"'That is so,' said the Duke; and we moved along, perceiving that the way grew broader until we were standing in a space so great that no walls could be seen. ”

“ I drew Henri close up to me, and tucked in the blankets and tried to sleep. Unluckily, the water-drops fell thick, and the rats were so bold and fierce that I was afraid. Assuredly, they lacked no courage, for during my brief lapses into slumber they stole out of my coat pocket a bit of cheese, a biscuit, and a roll of twine. Once the baby set up such a yell that the thief, who stayed on guard, lit a candle, and then we saw that a rat had bitten the little fellow's finger. ”

“ I began to feel an increase of interest when, near the far end of this cellar, M. Des Illes set down his lantern, unlocked a padlock, and, aided by St. Maur, lifted a larger trap-door. With a word of care as to the steps, he showed us the way down a broad stone stairway, and in a minute we were all standing on the rock floor of a great room underground.
As we saw the Duke and his companions hang their lanterns on hooks set in the wall, we did as they had done, and, placing our wine-baskets on casks, began to get used to the cross lights of the lanterns and to look around us. ”

“ I stood, however, a moment, uneasy, at the opening of the long covered way. Of a sudden I screamed, for a man caught me by the arm. Mon Dieu! It was our neighbor, the charcutier opposite.
"He said, 'Have no fear, my lad. Fear is dead to-day. Get thee home; they look for thee. Robespierre is dead. À bas les Jacobins!'
"'And my father is here?' I heard him cry, 'Yes,' as he caught me up and ran with me along the court, kissing me. And there, at the door, was my mama, and behind her Duke Philip and his son, and, to my joy, the thief in short breeches. ”

“ I suspect that he got into serious trouble once, but Des Illes is secretive."
"And how old is he?" said I.
"That no man knows," returned our host, rising. "To be asked his age is the one thing on earth known to annoy him. He says time is the only thief without honor among other thieves."
"Queer, that," said I, as our host rose. "The old have commonly a strange pride in their age."
"I have none," laughed the Duke.
"This way," said Des Illes, and we followed him into a pretty dining-room, and sat down below a half-dozen canvases of men and women of the days of the Regency. ”

“ I heard the Duke's 'Hist!' and we were all as still as mice, except that the Duke, as before, gave me a pistol and went up the ladder to be ready. I, following him, waited a little further down. It must have been that they were making free with the wine, because some of it was spilled and ran through the trap and down my neck. It quite scared me, but in peril and in darkness a little thing will do that. One man fell over the staves, but, as the Duke told us later, he swore as if hurt, and so, I fancy, did not chance to see our trap-door. All day long we prayed and listened and watched. ”

“ Perhaps a dozen casks of wine, on racks, were set along one side of the cave, and over them, on stone shelves excavated in the walls, were hundreds of bottles.
"Be careful of the cobwebs," said Des Illes, and there was need to be. They hung from above in black curtains and in coarse openwork of tangled ropes. They lay over the bottles and across the casks, wonderful for amount and for their dark hue. The spinners of this funereal broidery I could nowhere see. It was the work of generations of arachnidean artists long dead ”

“ The sooner we leave, the better our chances. No one will follow us, Monsieur.'
"'But shall we ever get out of these caves?' said my mother.
"'To stay is certain death,' returned Duke Philip.
"'And to fly by that great opening uncertain death,' said the thief. 'I like better the uncertain.'
"'We will go,' said my mother.
"Upon this the Duke bade us carry the utmost loads of wine and eatables we could support. The thief packed baskets, and strung bottles of wine and milk on cords so as to let them hang from our shoulders. ”

“ Then the trap was carefully raised still higher, and we saw the figure of a kneeling man sustaining the door with his left hand. In the other he held a lantern and a canvas bag. Luckily for us all, the Duke was a person of calm courage. He had seen that the stranger was not an agent of police. 'If you move, you are dead,' he cried, and the muzzle of a pistol on the man's breast made him for the time motionless, and perhaps quickened his wits, for he exclaimed: 'Great heavens! I am not a municipal. God forbid. I am only a thief. ”

“ He contends in a humorous vein for the moral value of wine—I think he is speaking of Canary. 'Of this,' he says, 'may be verified that merry induction—that good wine makes good blood; good blood causeth good thoughts; good thoughts bring forth good works; good works carry a man to heaven: ergo, good wine carrieth a man to heaven.'"
"It sounds like one of Shakspere's fools," said Hamilton.
"I should like to read that book," added Wilmington.
"It is at your service," replied Chestnut; "and what else he says of wine is worth reading."
"Then let us get nearer to good works," laughed their host. ”

“ That is why there is so little good wine in Charleston and Boston. They bottle their wine. Incredible as it may seem, sir, they bottle their wine."
"That is sad," returned Chestnut, gravely.
"Keep it in demijohns in moderate darkness under the roof," returned Francis. "Then it accumulates virtue like a hermit. I once had a challenge from the Madeira Club in Charleston to test our local theory. They sent me two dozen bottles of their finest Madeira. When we came to make a trial of them, we were puzzled at finding the corks entire, but not a drop of wine in any of the bottles. ”

“ But it is not too late to reform—to learn. I know one man who made a quite correct palate at the age of forty—not a gentleman, either; and that 's rather remarkable."
"And is that so rare?" cried Chestnut, much delighted.
"Oh, very," said Francis.
"I knew the man," returned Hamilton. "He died somewhat early. However, I have noticed that the acquisition of a taste for Madeira in middle life is quite fatal to common people."
"Is that so?" said Chestnut, greatly enjoying it all. "Upon my word, I still have a dim memory of all this stuff about wine, as I used to hear it when a lad. ”

“ Uncle Ned humanely loosened his cravat and sword-belt, and lost no time in creeping through the dark to his friend's house, where he found clothes 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 are gone, and the wine is still here. But the end of the story?—what the girl said in her note?"
"Ask the wine," laughed Hamilton, "or ask some good woman. No man knows. We shall find Mrs. Hamilton and my daughters in the drawing-room. They must be at home by this time. You can ask them." ”

“ Is it climate, or that they do not know how to keep it?"
"Both—both," returned Wilmington. "They bottle all wines, and that is simply fatal. Madeira was never meant to be retailed. It improves in its own society, as greatness is apt to do."
"I myself fancy," said the host, "that despite English usage, even port is better for the larger liberty of a five-gallon demijohn. I tried this once with excellent result. The wine became pale and delicate like an old Madeira." ”

“ Successive economies had narrowed the broad chimney throat to limits penuriously proportioned to the price of fuel; but two pensive caryatides still upheld the carved mantel-shelf, over which drooped pendent rose-wreaths of marble, pipe-stained, wine-tinted, and chipped. ”

“ Some women have it wonderfully."
"But, after all," said Francis, "why should appreciative delicacy of palate amaze us more than sharpness of vision or delicacy of touch?"
"Only because a fine taste is, of all forms of sensory acuteness, the rarest," returned Hamilton. "It is still more uncommon to have a perfect memory of taste, while odors are so easily remembered. ”

“ Wine is a strange fluid. It has its good and its bad days."
"I am willing to say its moods," added Hamilton.
"I suppose," continued the older man, "that you will be entirely skeptical if I assure you that for women to go into a wine-room is pretty surely to injure the wine."
"Indeed, is that so?" returned Chestnut. "I am not surprised. In France women are not allowed to enter the great cheese-caves."
"Wine is very sensitive," said Francis. "I give you this story for what it is worth:
"A planter in the South told me that once two blacks were arranging bottles in his wine-room, and quarreled. ”

“ Maur remarked with a smile, "My good father is never so near extravagance as when he talks of his poverty."
"He is shrewd, the young man, and of distressing economy—a quite modern economy. I bought it to-day." Our laughter set the chat on a less formal footing, and we fell to talking of theaters, actresses, the latest play, and the like, until at last M. Des Illes said. "Pardon, my dear Duke, but the hour is near when we must go down to the cellar." ”

“ Robespierre is dead!' It was a great madness of release from fear, and a tumult of cries, sharp and hoarse—an outburst of human emotion, sudden and strange to see. Near me a woman fell in a fit. Men ran about yelling, 'He is dead!' All was confusion and tears and mad laughter, any one embracing the citizen next to him. There were others who ran here and there through the crowd, jumping up and down, or catching some woman and whirling her as if in a dance. I lost sight of the Duke, and Mama, and the thief, who kept hold of this my friend ”