However, it is an excellent custom, and the Hermit of the Well is an
excellent creature. /Santa Maria!/ what delicious stuff is that Hungary
wine your scholarship was pleased to bestow upon our father Abbot. He
suffered me to taste it the eve before last. I had been suffering with
a pain in the reins, and the wine acted powerfully upon me as an
efficacious and inestimable medicine. Do you find, my Son, that it bore
the journey to your lodging here as well as to the convent cellars?"

"Why, really, my Father, I have none of it here; but the people of the
house have a few flasks of a better wine than ordinary, if you will
deign to taste it in lieu of the Hungary wine."

"Oh--oh!" said the monk, groaning, "my reins trouble me much: perhaps
the wine may comfort me!" and the wine was brought.

"It is not of so rare a flavour as that which you sent to our reverend
father," said the monk, wiping his mouth with his long sleeve. "Hungary
must be a charming place; is it far from hence? It joins the
heretical,--I pray your pardon, it joins the continent of England, I
believe?"

"Not exactly, Father; but whatever its topography, it is a rare
country--for those who like it! But tell me of this Hermit of the Well.
How long has he lived here? and how came he by his appellation? Of what
country is he? and of what birth?"

"You ask me too many questions at once, my Son. The country of the holy
man is a mystery to us all. He speaks the Tuscan dialect well, but with
a foreign accent. Nevertheless, though the wine is not of Hungary, it
has a pleasant flavour. I wonder how the rogues kept it so snugly from