had himself addressed to the old man.

"Why, father, how is this?" asked he, half angrily. "I had hoped for
better treatment at your hands. You have apparently not so much as
tasted any of the things I sent you."

"There they are, indeed, Davy, Just as they came for 'Matthew Dunn,
Esq., with care,' written on them, and not a string cut!"

"And why should this be so, sir, may I ask?"

"Well, the truth is, Davy," said he, with a sigh, "I often longed to
open them, and uncork a bottle of ale, or brandy, or, maybe, sherry,
and sore tempted I felt to do it when I was drinking my buttermilk of
a night; but then I 'd say to myself, 'Ain't you well and hearty? keep
cordials for the time when you are old, and feeble, and need support;
don't be giving yourself bad habits, that maybe some fifteen or twenty
years hence you'll be sorry for.' There's the reason, now, and I see by
your face you don't agree with me."

Dunn made no answer, but taking up a knife he speedily cut the cordage
of a large hamper, and as speedily covered a table with a variety of
bottles.

"We 'll drink this to the Queen's health, father," said he, holding up
a flask of rare hock; "and this to the 'House of Lords,' for which
estimable body I mean to return thanks; and then, father, I 'll give
'Prosperity to the landed interest and the gentry of Ireland,' for which
you shall speak."

Dunn went gayly along in this jesting fashion while he emptied the
hamper of its contents, displaying along the dresser a goodly line of
bottles, whose shape and corkage guaranteed their excellence. Meanwhile
an old servant-woman had prepared the table, and was busily engaged with
the materials of the meal.

"If I only thought we were going to have a feast, Davy, I 'd have made
her light a fire in the parlor," said the old man, apologetically.

"We're better here, sir; it's cosier and homelier, and I know you think
so. Keep your own corner, father, and I 'll sit here."

With appetites sharpened by the sea air and a long fast, they seated
themselves at table and eat heartily. If their eyes met, a smile of
pleasant recognition was exchanged; for while the old man gazed almost
rapturously on his illustrious son, Dunn bent a look of scarcely
inferior admiration on that patriarchal face, whereon time seemed but to
mellow the traits that marked its wisdom.

"And what name do they give this, Davy?" said he, as he held up his
glass to the light.

"Burgundy, father,--the king