THE FINE OLD FRUITY.
Wine merchants must be kind men. So many of those who have sent me their circulars this Christmas-time have announced that they are "giving their clients the benefit of some exceptionally advantageous purchases which they have made."
But it is not the humanity of wine merchants of which I wish to speak. It is the intriguing epithets which they apply to their wines. And I have entertained myself by applying these to my relatives, an exercise which I find attended by the happiest results.
"Fine old style, rich," is, of course, obvious. It applies to more than one of my Victorian uncles. "Medium rich" to a cousin or so. More subtle is "medium body." This must be Uncle Hilary; he takes little exercise nowadays and his figure is suffering. Soon he will be "full-bodied" or "full and round." "Elegant, high class" is my Cousin Isabel. "Pretty flavour" also is hers. "Fresh and brisk" is Aunt Hannah. And could anything be more descriptive of Aunt Geraldine than "delicate and generous"?
For "great breed and style" (used, I see, of a claret) I should, I fear, be obliged to go outside the family; and "recommended for present consumption and for laying down" I only mention because it leaves me wondering to what other uses a fine fruity Burgundy could be put. But here is a noble one: "Of very high class, stylish, good body and fine character." I have tried this on several relations without being entirely satisfied about it, and I have finally decided that I shall keep it for myself.
"Only a few visitors braved the first fall of the snow yesterday and adventured as far as the Zoological Gardens. They found there a depressed-looking collection of animals in the open-air cages, but a perfect holocaust of sparrows."
—Sunday Paper.
The sparrows must have been warm enough, anyway.
VERDUN.
London (to her adopted daughter). "YOU WILL LET ME PASS—TO YOUR HEART?"