“And why should this be so, sir, may I ask?”
“Well, the truth is, Davy,” said he, with a sigh, “I often longed to open them, and uncork a bottle of ale, or brandy, or, maybe, sherry, and sore tempted I felt to do it when I was drinking my buttermilk of a night; but then I 'd say to myself, 'Ain't you well and hearty? keep cordials for the time when you are old, and feeble, and need support; don't be giving yourself bad habits, that maybe some fifteen or twenty years hence you'll be sorry for.' There's the reason, now, and I see by your face you don't agree with me.”
Dunn made no answer, but taking up a knife he speedily cut the cordage of a large hamper, and as speedily covered a table with a variety of bottles.
“We 'll drink this to the Queen's health, father,” said he, holding up a flask of rare hock; “and this to the 'House of Lords,' for which estimable body I mean to return thanks; and then, father, I 'll give 'Prosperity to the landed interest and the gentry of Ireland,' for which you shall speak.”
Dunn went gayly along in this jesting fashion while he emptied the hamper of its contents, displaying along the dresser a goodly line of bottles, whose shape and corkage guaranteed their excellence. Meanwhile an old servant-woman had prepared the table, and was busily engaged with the materials of the meal.
“If I only thought we were going to have a feast, Davy, I 'd have made her light a fire in the parlor,” said the old man, apologetically.
“We're better here, sir; it's cosier and homelier, and I know you think so. Keep your own corner, father, and I 'll sit here.”
With appetites sharpened by the sea air and a long fast, they seated themselves at table and eat heartily. If their eyes met, a smile of pleasant recognition was exchanged; for while the old man gazed almost rapturously on his illustrious son, Dunn bent a look of scarcely inferior admiration on that patriarchal face, whereon time seemed but to mellow the traits that marked its wisdom.
“And what name do they give this, Davy?” said he, as he held up his glass to the light.
“Burgundy, father,—the king of wines. The wine-merchant names this Chambertin, which was the favorite drinking of the great Napoleon.”