I am sorry this
cursed war prevents our getting any,) until it is set free with all
its life and perfection of flavor, just at the moment of enjoyment!
They had glass, too, and used glass, these Romans, yet persevered in
keeping their wine in those abominable jars. It proves how little
progress they had made in the beautiful art of glass-blowing; and, of
course, (here the colonel took up a decanter of old Madeira and
replenished his glass, after eyeing approvingly the amber-colored
liquor,) they were ignorant that wines that attain perfection by
keeping, ripen most speedy in light-colored bottles."

"Indeed!" said Lady Mabel, "I did not know that. But I learn something
new from you every moment."

"And that," said he, nodding approvingly at her, "is something worth
knowing. I doubt, after all, whether these Romans, with the world at
their beck, really knew much of the elegant and refined pleasures of
life. Setting aside their gladiatorial shows, and the custom of
chaining the porter by the leg to the doorpost, that he might not be
out of the way when friend or client called on his master, and similar
rude habits, there is enough to convict them as a gross people. They
put honey in their wine, too! What a proof of childish, or rather,
savage taste! Lucullus' monstrous suppers, and Apicius' elaborate
feasts, are better to read about than to partake of. Give me, rather,
a quiet little dinner of a few well-chosen dishes and wines, and three
or four knowing friends, not given to long stories, but spicy in talk,
and I will enjoy myself better than 'the noblest Roman of them all.'"

"But, Colonel Bradshawe, how did you become so familiar with Roman
manners? Many of us know something of their public life, their wars,
conquests, seditions and laws; but you seem to have put aside the
curtain, and peered into the house, first floor, garret and cellar."

"You overrate my learning, Lady Mabel; my tastes naturally lead me to
inform myself on some points that may seem to lie out of the common
road. Some people take the liberty of calling me an epicure. I admit
it so far as this: I hold it to be our duty to enjoy ourselves wisely
and well. Much as I esteem a knowing _bon vivant_, I despise an
ignorant glutton, or undiscriminating sot. To know how to make the
most of the good things given us, is, at once, a duty and a
pleasure. This conviction has led me to heighten what are called our
epicurean enjoyments, by investigating the hist