Westmacott he remained. Now Sir Felix, though not a very old man,
has a rambling habit of speech, and tends in public discourse to
forget alike the thread of his argument and the lapse of time.
Conceive then our delight on his announcing that he would confine
himself to a brief anecdote.

"The beauty of temperance," said Sir Felix, "was once brought home to
me very forcibly in rather peculiar circumstances. Many years ago I
was travelling afoot in the Tyrol, and chancing to pass by a
shepherd's cottage, turned aside to inquire my way. The good people
of the house, with native hospitality, pressed me to tarry an hour
and partake of their mid-day meal. I acceded. The fare, as you may
suppose, was simple. There was no intoxicating liquor. But never
shall I forget the gesture or the words of that simple shepherd as he
placed a bowl of goat's milk before me on the board. His words--a
short sentence only--left such an impression on my mind that to this
day I never seat myself at table without repeating them to myself.
Three times a day for over thirty years I have repeated those words
and seen in imagination the magnificent gesture which accompanied
them. The words of my simple shepherd were--"

(Here Sir Felix reproduced the simple shepherd's magnificent gesture,
and paused.)

"And then," he pursued, "as he set the bowl of goat's milk on the
board, that simple Tyrolean turned to me with a magnificent sweep of
the hand"--gesture repeated--"and exclaimed--"

Here followed a prolonged pause, and it slowly dawned upon the
audience that by a pardonable trick of memory Sir Felix was for the