announced his discovery. "BEN, my boy," he shouted across the table,
"the moths have been at this tap of wine. I'm afraid his Lordship
won't care to take it off your hands." BEN became blue with suppressed
fury. The trembling butler obeyed his angry summons. "Take that stuff
away," said BEN, "and drink it yourself. Bring fresh wine at once."
But, alas, for wasted indignation, no more _Pontet Canet_ was
forthcoming, and we had to satisfy ourselves on a wine whose
inferiority no flourish of trumpets could disguise.

Now there is nothing in the accident of a corked bottle that ought
to crush a man. I have seen a host rise serenely after such an
occurrence, and nobody dreamt of imputing it to him for wickedness.
But the contrast between the magniloquence of poor BEN and the deadly
failure of his wine, was too great. Even Lady MABEL, a kind girl
without affectations, could not forbear a smile when the incident was
narrated to her in the drawing-room, and some of the other guests,
whose names I charitably refrain from mentioning, seemed quite radiant
with pleasure at the misfortune of their host. CHUMP, however, was not
long in recovering, and before many hours had passed, he was assuring
us in the smoking-room, that he proposed to establish sport in his
particular district on a broad and enduring basis. On the following
morning there was a lawn-meet at the Manor, and, as I'm a living
sinner, our wretched host was flung flat on his back before the eyes
of all the neighbouring sportsmen and sportswomen by a fiery chestnut
which he bought for £400 from a well-known dealer. What became of him
during the rest of the day I know not. Indeed I shrink from continuing
the story of his ridiculous humiliations, and I merely desire to
remark that if this be your Excellency's manner of rewarding those
who serve you, I pray that I may be for ever preserved from your
patronage.