A man in a linen apron put his head in at the door—
“Did you call, sir?”
“Yes; bring me a bottle of your best port wine.”
The man withdrew, and after a while returned with a black bottle of the villanous drugged compound which is sold and bought as the best port wine, and which bon vivants like Mr. Bolling imbibe with perfect faith.
We will leave Uncle Billy to the enjoyment of his beloved creature comforts, and follow Mark Sutherland to his “sweet home.”
CHAPTER XXIX.
FAILING HEALTH.
“’Tis shadow’d by the tulip tree—’tis mantled by the vine;
The wild plum sheds its yellow fruit from fragrant thickets nigh,
And flowery prairies from the door stretch till they meet the sky.”
Bryant.