“Tim,” said our host, “put the card-table here in the bow-window, and give us some other glasses; also, if you have such a thing, bring up a bottle of claret.”

Tim nodded, smiled, and made the fitting adjustments.  The table was barely large enough to hold a noble long-corked bottle, for the fashion of claret decanters had not as yet reached that remote district of the empire.  Round the margin was placed the necessary accompaniment of capacious glasses—­famous tall fellows, with such slender stalks that they seemed scarcely equal to the weight of their generous load.

My friend and I exchanged glances, and I could see his shoulders slightly raised, as if he was saying internally, “Now we are in for it! but I will not drink a drop more than I choose.”  The claret, which in itself was most delicious, was cooled in perfect style.  The party consisted, I think, of four or five persons, and this one bottle, I remember, just passed round the group twice.  As the flavour of the beverage appeared to have become more exquisite at the second turn than at the first, though but a short interval had been allowed to elapse, it seemed odd that another bottle was not instantly called for.  Instead of this our landlord went on expatiating on the beauties of the Lough, and the fineness of the season in general, and the sunset in particular, for full five minutes after the wine had disappeared; when he suddenly said, with a half-hesitating tone, towards my English friend, who sat at his elbow——­

“I beg your pardon! perhaps you would take some more wine?”

As no one made any objection, the bell was rung, and Tim re-appeared, bearing with him another bottle.  This likewise vanished in a trice, and Tim was again summoned.  “Bring some more claret,” said the master to the man, or rather boy, as he was called, though twice as old as any of the party.

At this instant I caught my companion’s eye; and I could see he was becoming alive to the plot against him, so much so, indeed, that he seemed to be preparing to rise.  The following conversation, however, attracted his attention, and fixed him to his seat.  “Well, Tim, what are you gaping at?  Why don’t you run for the clar’t?”

“I didn’t know,” replied the other, “whether you’d like to use the whole of it.”

“Use the whole of it!” exclaimed his master—­“what does the boy mean?  Why, Tim, what are you at?”

“Oh, sir,” quoth the well-instructed rogue, “as the wine you brought was but little, I thought you might not wish to use it all entirely to-day.”  And then he whispered something in his master’s ear, the words of which we could not distinguish.  The reply, however, showed, or seemed to show, what had been said.  “Nonsense, Tim, nonsense! you’re an ass, man; bring it up.”

Tim accordingly disappeared, but soon returned with a basket apparently full of straw; at the bottom of which, however, after some considerable show of hunting, a couple of bottles were said to be found.  “Confound you, Tim, is this all?” said the host.