for you, Amyntas. The two finest things in the
world are port and the Bible.'

Amyntas thanked him, but without great enthusiasm. Another idea struck
the parson, and he shouted out another question.

'Have you any money?'

Amyntas told him of the guinea.

'Damn your father! What's the good of a guinea?' He went to a drawer and
pulled out a handful of gold--the tithes had been paid a couple of days
before. 'Here are ten; a man can go to hell on ten guineas.'

'Thank you very much, sir,' said Amyntas, pocketing the money, 'but I
don't think I want to go quite so far just yet.'

'Then where the devil do you want to go?' shouted the parson.

'That's just what I came to ask you about.'

'Why didn't you say so at once? I thought you wanted a glass of port.
I'd sooner give ten men advice than one man port.' He went to the door
and called out, 'Jane, bring me another bottle.' He drank the bottle in
silence, while Amyntas stood before him, resting now upon one leg now
upon another, turning his cap round and round in his hands. At last the
parson spoke.

'You may look upon a bottle of port in two ways,' he said; 'you may take
it as a symbol of a happy life or as a method of thought.... There are
four glasses in a bottle. The first glass is full of expectation; you
enter life with mingled feelings; you cannot tell whether it will be
good or no. The second glass has the full savour of the grape; it is
youth with vine-leaves in its hair and the passion of young blood. The
third glass is void of emotion; it is grave and calm, like middle age;
drink it slowly, you are in full possession of yourself, and it will not
come again. The fourth glass has the sadness of death and the bitter
sweetness of retrospect.'

He paused a moment for Amyntas to weigh his words.

'But a bottle of port is a better method of thought than any taught by
the school-men. The first glass is that of contemplation--I think of
your case; the second is apprehension--an idea occurs to me; the third
is elaboration--I examine the idea and weigh the pros and cons; the
fourth is realisation--and here I give you the completed scheme. Look at
this letter; it is from my old friend Van Tiefel, a Dutch merchant who
lives at Cadiz, asking for an English clerk. One of his ships is
sailing from Plymouth next Sunday, and it will put in at Cadiz on the
way to Turkey.'

Amyntas thought the project could have been formed without a bottle of
port, but he was too disc