degree.

"And this is old Stein's celebrated book? I 've heard of it these
five-and-thirty years, though I never saw it till now. Well, I won't say
you made a bad bargain--"

"Indeed, Grog,--indeed, by George! I 'm as glad as if I won five hundred
to hear you say so. To tell you the truth, I was half afraid to own
myself the purchaser. I said to myself, 'Davis will chaff me so about
this book, he 'll call me all the blockheads in Europe--'"

"No, no, Beecher, you ain't a blockhead, nor will I suffer any one to
call you such. There are things--there are people, too, Just as there
are games--that you don't know, but before long you 'll be the match of
any fellow going. I can put you up to them, and I will. There's my hand
on it."

Beecher grasped the proffered hand, and squeezed it with a warmth there
was no denying. What wonderful change had come over Grog he could not
guess. Whence this marvellous alteration in his manner towards him? No
longer scoffing at his mistaken notions of people, or disparaging his
abilities, Davis condescended now to talk and take counsel with him as
an equal.

"That 's the king of wines," said Davis, as he pushed a fresh bottle
across the table. "When you can get Marcobrunner like that, where's the
Burgundy ever equalled it? Fill up your glass, and drink a bumper to our
next venture, whatever it be!"

"'Our next venture, whatever it be!'" echoed Beecher, as he laid the
empty glass on the table.

"Another toast," said Davis, replenishing the glasses. "'May all of our
successes be in company.'"

"I drink it with all my heart, old fellow. You 've always stood like a
man to me, and I 'll never desert you," cried Beecher, whose head was
never proof against the united force of wine and excitement.

"There never were two fellows on this earth so made to run in double
harness," said Davis, "as you and myself. Let us only lay our heads
together, and there's nothing can resist us."

Grog now launched forth into one of those descriptions which he
could throw off with a master's hand, sketching life as a great
hunting-ground, and themselves as the hunters. What zest and vigor could
he impart to such a picture!--how artfully, too, could he make Beecher
the foreground figure, he himself only shadowed forth as an accessory!
Listening with eagerness to all he said, Beecher continued to drink
deeply; the starry night, the perfumed air, the rippling sounds of
the river, all combining with the wine