The general laid down his knife and fork. “Port! Why, sir, sure ye never drank a drop of good claret in your life, if you say so.” “I beg pardon, sir!” said I (I saw I was getting into a scrape), “but I may perhaps be wrong in saying it resembles port. I meant to say—to imply—that is—that it is very strong claret.” “Pooh, nonsense,” said the general pettishly, on whom my explanation was far from producing the desired effect. “Ye can know nothing about claret” (he was not very wide of the mark there). “Strong! like port, indeed!!” “My dear father,” said Mrs. Delaval (the women are ever our good geniuses on these occasions), who marked, I have no doubt, the clouds gathering on my brow, “never mind; what does it signify? You know,” said she, laying her hand on the general’s shoulder, and looking at him with a sweet and beseeching expression, “you know, Mr. Gernon is quite young, and cannot have had much experience in wines.” “Then let him take my advice, Cordalia, and not talk about what he does not understand. Strong! ha! ha! Port, indeed!” I was thunderstruck, and thought verily I should have launched the bottle at the head of the testy old veteran, so deep a wound had my pride received. I could hardly believe it possible that one of evidently so fine a character in the main, could give way to such unbecoming conduct on so trifling a matter. The fact is, the general had had his crosses and trials, and such often shatter the temper irretrievably, though the heart and principles may remain sound—much charity and discrimination are requisite to enable us to form a just judgment of others, to decide on the predominant hue of that mingled skein which constitutes individual character. Augustus, worthy fellow that he was, saw my distress and redoubled his civility, whilst Mrs. Delaval, by that tact and kindness which women best know how to exhibit on such occasions, endeavoured to soften my sense of the indignity; even Mrs. Capsicum took up the cudgels in my behalf, and told the general roundly that he made himself quite ridiculous about his wine. But all would not do; the affront was too recent, and I was moody and glum, pondering within myself as to whether there were any well-established precedents on record, of ensigns of seventeen calling out and shooting generals of eighty. General Capsicum’s irritability, however, soon subsided, and compunctious visitings arose; I could see this by his eye and the softened expression of his countenance, and that he was moreover anxious to make the _amende honorable_; at last he reached the bottle and filled himself a bumper and me another. “Come,” said he, good-humouredly, “let us try another glass, and d——n the port. Here’s your very good health, and success to your first day’s hog-hunting with Augustus.”