Champagne, thou darling of my heart! To stupefy oneself with other wines, is brutal; but to raise oneself to the seventh heaven with thee, is quite ethereal. The soul appears to spurn the body, and take a transient flight without its dull associate—the—the—broke down, by Jupiter! All I meant to say was, that champagne is very pretty tipple; and so thought the dinner party, who were proportionally enlivened.
"Is this orthodox, Mr Ferguson?" inquired the colonel, holding up his glass.
"So far orthodox, that it is very good; and what is orthodox is good," replied the divine, with good-humour.
"The Asia has made the signal for 'a strange sail—suspicious,'" said the second mate to Captain Drawlock, putting his head into the cabin.
"Very well, Mr Jones, keep a glass upon the commodore."
"Mrs Ferguson, will you take some of this tart! Damascene, I believe," said the first mate.
"If you please, Mr Mathews.—Did not Mr Jones say 'suspicious?'—What does that imply?"
"Imply, madam; why, that he don't like the cut of her jib!"
"And pray what does that mean?"
"Mean, madam: why, that for all he knows to the contrary, she may be a
French frigate."