182 TOM DRAW'S VISIT TO PINE BROOK. 



the soup " I don't care if I do shads isn't got to Newburgh 

 yet, leastways I harnt seen none " 



Well might he say that, by the way, for they had scarce ap- 

 peared in New York, and were attainable now only at the mo- 

 derate rate of something near their weight in silver. After the 

 fish, a dram of Ferintosh was circulated in one small glass, ex- 

 quisitely carved into the semblance of a thistle, which Draw 

 disposed of with no comment save a passing wonder that when 

 men could get applejack, they should be willing to take up with 

 such smoky trash as that. 



A saddle of roast mutton, which had been hanging, Harry 

 said, six weeks, a present from that excellent good fellow, the 

 Captain of the Swallow, followed, and with it came the split- 

 corks " By heavens,'' I cried, almost involuntarily " what a 

 superb champagne'' suffering, after the interjection, something 

 exceeding half a pint of that delicious, dry, high-flavored, and 

 rich-bodied nectar, to glide down my gullet. 



" Yes'' answered Harry " yes alack ! that it should be 

 the last! This is the last but one of the first importation of the 

 Crown no such wine ever came before into this country, no 

 such has followed it. We shall discuss the brace to-day what 

 better opportunity ? Here is McTavish, its originator, the best 

 judge in the land"! Frank Forester, who has sipped of the like 

 at Crockie's, and a place or two beside, which we could men- 

 tion myself, who am not slow at any decent tipple, and Thomas 

 Draw, who knows it, I suppose, from Jarsey Cider!" 



" Yes, and I knows it from the Jarsey champagne tew 

 which you stick into poor chaps, what you fancies doosn't know 

 no better give me some more of that ere mutton and some 

 jelly you are most darned sparin' of your jelly now and 

 Timothy, you snoopin rascal, fill this ere thimbleful agin with 

 that Creawn wine !" 



Wild fowl succeeded, cooked to a turn, hot claret duly quali- 

 fied with cayenne in a sauce-boat by their side washed down 

 by the last flask of Mac's champagne, of which the last round 

 we quaffed sorrowfully, as in duty bound, to the importer's 

 health, and to the memory of the crowned head departed the 

 only crown, as Harry in his funeral oration, truly and pithily 

 observed, which gives the lie to the assertion that " uneasy lies 

 the head that wears a crown." 



No womanish display of pastry marred the unity of this most 

 solemn masculine repast, a Stilton cheese, a red herring, with 



