by a track of fire, far, far down; and then, worse than the fire, came a
taste of hideous bitterness and nauseousness, which he had not previously
conceived to exist, and which threatened to stir up his bowels into utter
revolt; but knowing Aunt Keziah's touchiness with regard to this
concoction, and how sacred she held it, he made an effort of real heroism,
squelched down his agony, and kept his face quiet, with the exception of
one strong convulsion, which he allowed to twist across it for the sake of
saving his life.

"It tastes as if it might have great potency in it, Aunt Keziah," said this
unfortunate young man. "I wish you would tell me what it is made of, and
how you brew it; for I have observed you are very strict and secret about
it."

"Aha! you have seen that, have you?" said Aunt Keziah, taking a sip of her
beloved liquid, and grinning at him with a face and eyes as yellow as that
she was drinking. In fact the idea struck him, that in temper, and all
appreciable qualities, Aunt Keziah was a good deal like this drink of
hers, having probably become saturated by them while she drank of it. And
then, having drunk, she gloated over it, and tasted, and smelt of the cup
of this hellish wine, as a winebibber does of that which is most fragrant
and delicate. "And you want to know how I make it? But first, child, tell
me honestly, do you love this drink of mine? Otherwise, here, and at once,
we stop talking about it."

"I love it for its virtues," said Septimius, temporizing with his
conscience, "and would prefer it on that account to the rarest wines."

"So far good," said Aunt Keziah, who could not well conceive that her
liquor should be otherwise than delicious to the palate. "It is the most