"How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"And never intoxicated—well, that's a good joke. Few young men of your age could say that. Would you not like to increase your knowledge, and be as wise as others?"
I shook my head.
"Ridiculous prudery. Come, fill your glass."
He drank off several glasses in succession; and for fear I should be thought deficient in spirit; I followed his example. But the Rubicon once crossed, to my surprise, I found that the wine had no effect upon my senses; only serving to elevate my spirits a little, and make me more sociable and communicative.
My uncle's stern face began to relax from its usual cold severity, and I found that when warmed with wine, he could be a most intelligent and agreeable companion. After conversing for some time on indifferent subjects, he said:
"You think you remember your parents. I have their portraits. Perhaps you would like to keep them in your own possession."
"No present you could make me, would be so valuable," I replied.
"No heroics," he said, going to a beautiful inlaid cabinet. "I detest sentimental people. They are the greatest humbugs in the world."