There was a most tremendous lot of cherries; and Alice always had
with her some neat little bag or box or case, to hold things. In
it that night was a tiny wine-glass. So Alice and Nettie said they
would make some cherry-wine to drink our love at parting.

Each of us had a glassful, and it was delicious; and each of us
drank the toast, 'Our love at parting.' The colonel drank his wine
last; and it got into my head directly that it got into his
directly. Anyhow, his eyes rolled immediately after he had turned
the glass upside down; and he took me on one side and proposed in a
hoarse whisper, that we should 'Cut 'em out still.'

'How did he mean?' I asked my lawless friend.

'Cut our brides out,' said the colonel, 'and then cut our way,
without going down a single turning, bang to the Spanish main!'

We might have tried it, though I didn't think it would answer; only
we looked round and saw that there was nothing but moon-light under
the willow-tree, and that our pretty, pretty wives were gone. We
burst out crying. The colonel gave in second, and came to first;
but he gave in strong.

We were ashamed of our red eyes, and hung about for half-an-hour to
whiten them. Likewise a piece of chalk round the rims, I doing the
colonel's, and he mine, but afterwards found in the bedroom
looking-glass not natural, besides inflammation. Our conversation
turned on being ninety. The colonel told me he had a pair of boots
that wanted soling and heeling; but he thought it hardly worth