fortified
with calm to meet the repast.

It is not fair to go behind an eccentric; but the fact was, this
old gentleman was slightly ashamed of his month's vagrancy and cruel
conduct, and cloaked his behaviour toward the Aurora, in all the charges
he could muster against it. He was very human, albeit an odd form of the
race.

Happily for his digestion of Thursday, the cook, warned by Jonathan,
kept the old gentleman's time, not the Aurora's: and the dinner was
correct; the dinner was eaten in peace; he began to address his plate
vigorously, poured out his Madeira, and chuckled, as the familiar ideas
engendered by good wine were revived in him. Jonathan reported at the
bar that the old gentleman was all right again.

One would like here to pause, while our worthy ancient feeds, and
indulge in a short essay on Habit, to show what a sacred and admirable
thing it is that makes flimsy Time substantial, and consolidates his
triple life. It is proof that we have come to the end of dreams and
Time's delusions, and are determined to sit down at Life's feast and
carve for ourselves. Its day is the child of yesterday, and has a claim
on to-morrow. Whereas those who have no such plan of existence and sum
of their wisdom to show, the winds blow them as they list. Consider,
then, mercifully the wrath of him on whom carelessness or forgetfulness
has brought a snap in the links of Habit. You incline to scorn him
because, his slippers misplaced, or asparagus not on his table the first
day of a particular Spring month, he gazes blankly and sighs as one who
saw the End. To you it may appear small. You call to him to be a man. He
is: but he is also an immortal, and his confidence in unceasing orderly
progression is rudely dashed.

But the old gentleman has finished his dinner and his Madeira, and says:
'Now, Jonathan, "thock" the Port!'--his joke when matters have gone
well: meant to express the sound of the uncorking, probably. The habit
of making good jokes is rare, as you know: old gentlemen have not yet
attained to it: nevertheless Jonathan enjoys this one, which has seen
a generation in and out, for he knows its purport to be, 'My heart is
open.'

And now is a great time with this old gentleman. He sips, and in his
eyes the world grows rosy, and he exchanges mute or monosyllable salutes
here and there. His habit is to avoid converse; but he will let a light
remark season meditation.

He says to Jonathan: 'The bill for the mont