thly dinners, an estimate may be formed from the
following story. Bringing from Oxford to London that fine sense of the
merits of port wine which characterized the thorough Oxonion of a
century since, William Scott made it for some years a rule to dine with
his brother John on the first day of term at a tavern hard by the
Temple; and on these occasions the brothers used to make away with
bottle after bottle not less to the astonishment than the approval of
the waiters who served them. Before the decay of his faculties, Lord
Stowell was recalling these terminal dinners to his son-in-law, Lord
Sidmouth, when the latter observed, "You drank some wine together, I
dare say?" Lord Stowell, modestly, "Yes, we drank some wine."
Son-in-law, inquisitively, "Two bottles?" Lord Stowell, quickly putting
away the imputation of such abstemiousness, "More than that."
Son-in-law, smiling, "What, three bottles?" Lord Stowell, "More."
Son-in-law, opening his eyes with astonishment, "By Jove, sir, you don't
mean to say that you took four bottles?" Lord Stowell, beginning to feel
ashamed of himself, "More; I mean to say we had more. Now don't ask any
more questions."

Whilst Lord Stowell, smarting under the domestic misery of which his
foolish marriage with the Dowager Marchioness of Sligo was fruitful,
sought comfort and forgetfulness in the cellar of the Middle Temple,
Lord Eldon drained magnums of Newcastle port at his own table. Populous
with wealthy merchants, and surrounded by an opulent aristocracy,
Newcastle had used the advantages given her by a large export trade with
Portugal to draw to her cellars such superb port wine as could be found
in no other town in the United Kingdom; and to the last the Tory
Chancellor used to get his port from the canny capital of Northumbria.
Just three weeks before his death, the veteran lawyer, sitting in his
easy-chair and recalling his early triumphs, preluded an account of the
great leading case, "Akroyd _v._ Smithson," by saying to his listener,
"Come, Farrer, help yourself to a glass of Newcastle port, and help me
to a little." But though he asked for a little, the old earl, according
to his wont, drank much before he was raised from his chair and led to
his sleeping-room. It is on record, and is moreover supported by
unexceptionable evidence, that in his extreme old age, whilst he was
completely laid upon the shelf, and almost down to the day of his death,
which occurred in his eighty-seventh