be had everywhere.

They were then outwardly silent for a apace. Inwardly one of them was
full of riot and jubilant uproar: as if the solemn fields of law were
suddenly to be invaded and possessed by troops of Bacchanals: and to
preserve a decently wretched physiognomy over it, and keep on terms with
his companion, he had to grimace like a melancholy clown in a pantomime.

Mr. Thompson brushed back his hair. The baronet was still expectant. Mr.
Thompson sighed deeply, and emptied his glass. He combated the change
that had come over him. He tried not to see Ruby. He tried to feel
miserable, and it was not in him. He spoke, drawing what appropriate
inspirations he could from his client's countenance, to show that they
had views in common: "Degenerating sadly, I fear!"

The baronet nodded.

"According to what my wine-merchants say," continued Mr. Thompson,
"there can be no doubt about it."

Sir Austin stared.

"It's the grape, or the ground, or something," Mr. Thompson went on.
"All I can say is, our youngsters will have a bad look-out! In my
opinion Government should be compelled to send out a Commission to
inquire into the cause. To Englishmen it would be a public calamity. It
surprises me--I hear men sit and talk despondently of this extraordinary
disease of the vine, and not one of them seems to think it incumbent on
him to act, and do his best to stop it." He fronted his client like a
man who accuses an enormous public delinquency. "Nobody makes a stir!
The apathy of Englishmen will become proverbial. Pray, try it, Sir
Austin! Pray, allow me. Such a wine cannot disagree at any hour. Do! I
am allowanced two glasses three hours before dinner. Stomachic. I find
it agree with me surprisingly: quite a new man. I suppose it will last
our time. It must! What should we do? There's no Law possible without
it. Not a lawyer of us could live. Ours is an occupation which dries the
blood."

The scene with Ripton had unnerved him, the wine had renovated, and
gratitude to the wine inspired his tongue. He thought that his client,
of the whimsical mind, though undoubtedly correct moral views, had need
of a glass.

"Now that very wine--Sir Austin--I think I do not err in saying, that
very wine your respected father, Sir Pylcher Feverel, used to taste
whenever he came to consult my father, when I was a boy. And I remember
one day being called in, and Sir Pylcher himself poured me out a glass.
I wish I could call in Ripton now,