Yet there was such a good-natured expression in the man's eyes, and so much honest solicitude written on his rough bearded face, that Helmsley felt it would be almost like insulting him to refuse his invitation.
"Tell me what's in it first!" he said, smiling.
"'Taint whisky," said Peke.

"And 'taint brandy neither.

_Nor_ rum.

_Nor_ gin.

Nor none o' them vile stuffs which brewers makes as arterwards goes to Parl'ment on the profits of 'avin' poisoned their consti_too_ants.
'Tis nowt but just yerb wine." "Yerb wine?
Wine made of herbs ?" "That's it! 'Erbs or yerbs--I aint pertikler which--I sez both.
This,"-- and he shook the bottle he held vigorously--"is genuine yerb wine--an' made as I makes it, what do the Wise One say of it?
'E sez:--'It doth strengthen the heart of a man mightily, and refresheth the brain; drunk fasting, it braceth up the sinews and maketh the old feel young; it is of rare virtue to expel all evil humours, and if princes should drink of it oft it would be but an ill service to the world, as they might never die!'" Peke recited these words slowly and laboriously; it was evident that he had learned them by heart, and that the effort of remembering them correctly was more or less painful to him.
Helmsley laughed, and stretched out his hand.
"Give it over here!" he said.