''Tis but unsavoury fare after a gallop,' said Coningsby.

'Ah! you are proud of your bacon and your eggs,' said the stranger,
smiling, 'but I love corn and wine. They are our chief and our oldest
luxuries. Time has brought us substitutes, but how inferior! Man has
deified corn and wine! but not even the Chinese or the Irish have raised
temples to tea and potatoes.'

'But Ceres without Bacchus,' said Coningsby, 'how does that do? Think you,
under this roof, we could Invoke the god?'

'Let us swear by his body that we will try,' said the stranger.

Alas! the landlord was not a priest to Bacchus. But then these inquiries
led to the finest perry in the world. The young men agreed they had seldom
tasted anything more delicious; they sent for another bottle. Coningsby,
who was much interested by his new companion, enjoyed himself amazingly.

A cheese, such as Derby alone can produce, could not induce the stranger
to be even partially inconstant to his crusts. But his talk was as
vivacious as if the talker had been stimulated by the juices of the finest
banquet. Coningsby had never met or read of any one like this chance
companion. His sentences were so short, his language so racy, his voice
rang so clear, his elocution was so complete. On all subjects his mind
seemed to be instructed, and his opinions formed. He flung out a result in
a few words; he solved with a phrase some deep problem that men muse over
for years. He said many things that were strange, yet they immediately
appeared to be true. Then, without the slightest air of pretension or
parade, he seemed to know everybody as well as everything. Monarchs,
statesmen, authors, adventurers, of all descriptions and of all climes, if