ttle
boy, and I wondered as they threw a lot of stones and turf on him
whether he would ever come up again. He did not. But his image remained
in my memory, and when I grew up my favourite pieces in the long
picture-gallery of Reflection were his Retreats.

And isn't to-day mine? The First of September? And am I to go and drink
weak tea and listen to bad music to-day? No! I have a better
prescription in my pocket, directed to the best apothecary in the
world--somewhat under the world in fact he dwells. Down therefore to
him, and _Fiat, sum., haust. ad lib._

It was striking ten o'clock when I descended the broad steps that lead
to the noble vault, which with all its contents is the ancient and
perpetual inheritance of their High Mightinesses the Corporation of
Bremen. There was every probability of my having my drink to myself, as
there was a fearful storm raging outside and no one about in the
streets. The cellarman stared at me as I presented a slip of paper,
signed and sealed by a town-councillor:--

'Admit the Bearer to Drink. Sep. 1st.'

'So late and _To-night_?' says he. 'It is never late before twelve and
never too early after that for good wine,' says I. He looked at the
signature and seal, and not without hesitation led the way through the
vaults. What a noble sight was there! His lantern shone over long rows
of casks, and threw strange forms and shadows on the arches of the
cellar; and the pillars seemed to float in the background like busy
coopers plying their staves. My companion wanted to open for me one of
those smaller rooms where six or eight friends at the most can pack in
with comfortable space to let the bottle circulate: and a very proper
thing it is, when your companions are the right sort, to sit close
together; but when I am to be alone I love free space, where my
thoughts and my body can find room to expand. So I chose an old vaulted
hall, the largest we passed into, for my solitary banquet-room. 'You
expect company?' said the attendant. 'No.' Some have who do not
expect,' said he, with an uneasy glance at the shadow on the wall.
'What do you mean?'

'Nothing. It's the first of September.... By-the-bye, there was Mr.
Councillor Pumpernickel here a while agone, and he bade me get out some
samples for you--samples of my Lady Rose and of the Twelve Apostle
casks'; and he began to take down some pretty little bottles with
long strips of paper on their necks. 'You don't mean to tell me I am
not