k, whose was whose,
few but the nicest critics might determine."

"Since we are thus joined in mind," said the stranger, "why not be
joined in hand?"

"My hand is always at the service of virtue," frankly extending it to
him as to virtue personified.

"And now," said the stranger, cordially retaining his hand, "you know
our fashion here at the West. It may be a little low, but it is kind.
Briefly, we being newly-made friends must drink together. What say you?"

"Thank you; but indeed, you must excuse me."

"Why?"

"Because, to tell the truth, I have to-day met so many old friends, all
free-hearted, convivial gentlemen, that really, really, though for the
present I succeed in mastering it, I am at bottom almost in the
condition of a sailor who, stepping ashore after a long voyage, ere
night reels with loving welcomes, his head of less capacity than his
heart."

At the allusion to old friends, the stranger's countenance a little
fell, as a jealous lover's might at hearing from his sweetheart of
former ones. But rallying, he said: "No doubt they treated you to
something strong; but wine--surely, that gentle creature, wine; come,
let us have a little gentle wine at one of these little tables here.
Come, come." Then essaying to roll about like a full pipe in the sea,
sang in a voice which had had more of good-fellowship, had there been
less of a latent squeak to it:

"Let us drink of the wine of the vine benign,
That sparkles warm in Zansovine."

The cosmopolitan, with longing eye upon him, stood as sorely tempted and
wavering a moment; then, abruptly stepping towards him, with a look of
dissolved surrender, said: "When mermaid songs move figure-heads, then
may glory, gold, and women try their blandishments on me. But a good
fellow, singing a good song, he woos forth my every spike, so that my
whole hull, like a ship's, sailing by a magnetic rock, caves in with
acquiescence. Enough: when one has a heart of a certain sort, it is in
vain trying to be resolute."

CHAPTER XXIX

THE BOON COMPANIONS.

The wine, port, being called for, and the two seated at the little
table, a natural pause of convivial expectancy ensued; the stranger's
eye turned towards the bar near by, watching the red-cheeked,
white-aproned man there, blithely dusting the bottle, and invitingly
arranging the salver and glasses; when, with a sudden impulse turning
round his head towards his companion, he said, "Ours is friendship