_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ And who is that _very_ tall and remarkably ugly gentleman? _Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ That is Sir Oran Haut-ton, Baronet; to which designation you may shortly add M.P. for the ancient and honourable borough of Onevote. _The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ A Baronet! and M.P.! Well, now I look at him again, I certainly do not think him so very plain: he has a very fashionable air. Haut-ton! French extraction, no doubt. And now I think of it, there is something very French in his physiognomy. Dinner was announced, and the party adjourned to the dining-room. Mr. Forester offered his hand to Anthelia; and Sir Oran Haut-ton, following the example, presented his to the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney.[42] CHAPTER XVI THE SYMPOSIUM The dinner passed off with great harmony. The ladies withdrew. The bottle revolved with celerity, under the presidency of Mr. Hippy, and the vice-presidency of Sir Telegraph Paxarett. The Reverend Mr. Portpipe, who was that day of the party, pronounced an eulogium on the wine, which was echoed by the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub, Mr. O’Scarum, Lord Anophel Achthar, Mr. Feathernest, and Mr. Derrydown. Mr. Forester and Mr. Fax showed no disposition to destroy the unanimity of opinion on this interesting subject. Sir Oran Haut-ton maintained a grave and dignified silence, but demonstrated by his practice that his taste was orthodox. Mr. O’Scarum sat between Sir Oran and the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, and kept a sharp look-out on both sides of him; but did not, during the whole course of the sitting, detect either of his supporters in the heinous fact of a heeltap. _Mr. Hippy._ Dr. Killquick may say what he pleases Of mithridate, cordials, and elixirs; But from my youth this was my only physic.— Here’s a colour! what lady’s cheek comes near it? It sparkles, hangs out diamonds! O my sweet heart! Mistress of merry hearts! they are not worth thy favours Who number thy moist kisses in these crystals![43] _The Rev. Mr. Portpipe._ An excellent text!—sound doctrine, plain and practical. When I open the bottle, I shut the book of Numbers. There are two reasons for drinking: one is, when you are thirsty, to cure it; the other, when you are not thirsty, to prevent it. The first is obvious, mechanical, and plebeian; the second is most refined, abstract, prospicient, and canonical. I drink by anticipation of thirst that may be. Prevention is better than cure. Wine is the elixir of life. ‘The soul,’ says St. Augustine, ‘cannot live in drought.’[44] What is death? Dust and ashes. There is nothing so dry. What is life? Spirit. What is Spirit? Wine. _Mr. O’Scarum._ And whisky.