"Strange, indeed," said Lady Mabel. "It was shutting their eyes
against the light of nature; for, we may say, that the obvious final
end of the cork tree is to provide corks for bottles."

"A great truth well expressed," said the colonel. "Such an oversight
has hardly a parallel; unless it be in their invention of printing and
never using it. For we see, in the baker's name, stamped on the loaves
found in Pompeii, and words impressed on their pottery and other
articles, what amounts to stereotype printing; yet they never went on
to separate the individual letters, and so become compositors and
printers in the usual sense of the art. But they could certainly get
on better without printing than without corks."

"Undoubtedly. For the world may--indeed, has--become too full of
books; while there is little fear of its becoming too full of bottles;
they get emptied and broken so fast."

"I wonder whether Horace," continued Colonel Bradshawe, with a
thoughtful air, "when he opened a jar of Falernian, was obliged to
finish it at a sitting, to prevent its growing sour? Wine out of a
jar! Think of that. With a wooden or earthen stopper, made tight with
pitch. Think of having your wine vinho-flavored with pitch! like the
_vinho verde_ of these Portuguese peasants, out of a pitchy goat-skin
sack."

Lady Mabel looked nauseated at the idea, and the colonel swallowed a
glass of Madeira, to wash away the pitchy flavor. "Yes," said he,
shaking his head gravely, "they must have often felt sadly the want of
a cork. How would it be possible to confine champagne (I am sorry this