more contemporaneous vintage, and that I have
paid for myself.' 'Don't get hot, doctor,' said my Lady Rose, 'he
didn't mean to hurt your feelings; he only reflected upon the low
manners and bad taste of the present day.' 'Bad taste, low manners, I
should think so,' said another. 'The generation that concocts a
detestable mixture of brandy and half a dozen kinds of syrups, and
calls it Chateau Margaux or Sillery, must indeed feel itself unworthy
of a noble drink. And then people wonder why they get red rings round
their mouths and a splitting headache the next day. Cochineal and
brandy, nothing else!'

'What a life it was too when we were young, even as late as '26; yes,
even as late as '50. Every evening, were it bright sunshiny spring, or
deep wintry snow, the little rooms here were alive with joyous guests.
The Senators of Bremen sat with majestic wigs on their heads, their
weapons at their sides, and their glasses before them. That's what I
call honour and dignity. Here, here, not _upon_ the earth was their
council chamber; here the true hall of the senate; here was settled
over the cool wine the affairs of the nation and of most other nations
besides. If they didn't agree they never quarrelled, but just drank
each other's healths till they did; and if they ever failed it was
because they didn't go on drinking long enough--but this rarely
happened. Equal friends of the noble wine, how could they but be
friends of each other? And on the next day their word pledged overnight
was held sacred, and the resolves taken overnight were executed coolly
enough in the morning.'

'Ah, the good old times,' said another Apostle, 'and it is still, you
know, a custom that every Councillor keeps a little wine-book or
drinking account, reckoned up and discharged at the end of the year.
When a man sat here every night of his life, he didn't care to be
always putting his hands in his pockets, so it was worked on the tally
system, and I hear there are still a few brave old fellows left who use
the same plan.'

'Yes, yes, children,' said the old Rose, 'it was another world a couple
of centuries, or even one, or even half a century ago. They used to
bring their wives and daughters into the cellar with them, and the fair
Bremen maids, who were famed far and wide for bright eyes and rosy
cheeks and voluptuous lips, drank nothing but good Rhine wine. Now
forsooth, they must have tea and stuff like that, wretched foreign
stuff, which girls