'Perhaps so; I never thought of that.' Solomon looked a little graver as he finished his dinner, and glanced from time to time at the boy's bright face.

When dinner was done, and the cloth was cleared away (the entertainment had been brought from a neighbouring eating-house), he lighted a candle, and went down below into a little cellar, while his nephew, standing on the mouldy staircase, dutifully held the light.

After a moment's groping here and there, he presently returned with a very ancient-looking bottle, covered with dust and dirt.
'Why, Uncle Sol!' said the boy, 'what are you about?
that's the wonderful Madeira!--there's only one more bottle!' Uncle Sol nodded his head, implying that he knew very well what he was about; and having drawn the cork in solemn silence, filled two glasses and set the bottle and a third clean glass on the table.
'You shall drink the other bottle, Wally,' he said, 'when you come to good fortune; when you are a thriving, respected, happy man; when the start in life you have made to-day shall have brought you, as I pray Heaven it may!--to a smooth part of the course you have to run, my child.

My love to you!' Some of the fog that hung about old Sol seemed to have got into his throat; for he spoke huskily.

His hand shook too, as he clinked his glass against his nephew's.