oil will grow that wine but that of one little vineyard under the
South African sun."

"Uncle Joseph, you never told me anything about your voyages. But what
are you keeping that wine for?" "To drink a welcome home to Joe when
he returns from Europe next month. You must dine with us the day after
he gets back. Will has still another year at Goettingen."

"Nothing would give me more pleasure."

"You spoke of my voyages just now: have you never heard the story of
my early life?"

"Never, Uncle Joseph," I answered eagerly. "Can't you tell me all
about it to-night?"

"Well, perhaps I may. That bottle of wine suggested memories of a
singular and sad incident, and the sound of that storm without recalls
it all as if it were yesterday. It happened on the homeward passage
when I made my last voyage to the Cape, and I have never since looked
at that Constantia without thinking of it."

The old gentleman walked across the room and gazed long and earnestly
at the picture of the ships; then he seemed to find something very
interesting in the compass-box on the stand; then he locked the
cabinet, and lighting a cigar stretched himself back in his
easy-chair, and smoked for a while with closed eyes. I sat thoughtful
and silent until he roused himself with a slight effort: "Draw a chair
for your feet, Frank, and take a fresh cigar: you'll find them very
mild. Go to sleep if I get prosy when fairly wound off on my yarn. I
am going to begin at the very starting-place.

"Of course you know I am an Englishman, for you were quite old enough,
when you first knew us all at Stewart's hotel on Broad street, to
remember now all about it. The children were then in mourning for
their dear mother, but lately dead, and had just come over to make
their home with me. My father was a clergyman, possessed of an
independent fortune and holding a comfortable living in a sea-coast
town some twenty miles from Liverpool, where I was born four years
after my only brother. There were only the two of us, and my earliest
recollections are connected with the dangerous and mischievous pranks
which John and I used to play in and upon the waters of the Irish
Sea. I always was fond of John, as I believe he was of me, but he was
a domineering fellow, never satisfied unless he had the lead in
everything: very dull at his books, but quite handsome, even when a
lad, and having a certain smartness about him which was very taking.
He was the elder son, and the fav