The Royal Mail: Its Curiosities and Romance

"Holloa!" says the officer, "what have we here? A strange wine-cellar this!" "Oh," observed the butler, "these are three bottles of ginger-wine which were given me by my father, a grocer in the town." "Indeed!" says the officer, who had meanwhile been noting the colour as he held a bottle between himself and the light; "it looks a queer colour for ginger-wine. You won't mind letting me taste your wine, will you?" Overborne by the assurance of the officer perhaps, or thinking him quite chatty and chummy, a cork was withdrawn, and the officer was sipping capital old crusted port. The wine was pronounced very good, but the missing watch was not forthcoming. The scene of inquiry was now changed. The officer proceeded to the shop of the grocer, made some trifling purchase, put on his most affable ways, and he soon had the grocer talking, first on general topics, then on personal matters, and at last on the theme of his own family. "How many have you?" says the officer. "So-and-so," responds the grocer. "All doing for themselves by this time, I suppose?" continues the officer. This flung the door open for a full statement of the position of the family, which was given without reserve, as if to an old friend, until the butler with the clergyman was mentioned, when the officer interrupted him with the remark-- "Ah, to be sure; I know something of him. That was capital ginger-wine you gave him lately." "Ginger-wine!" quoth the grocer; "I never had wine in my house in my life, and I certainly never gave my son any."