It is strange that
no soil 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.
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