The wines which Henry served so quietly and sedately were of the best. But both my host and myself drank little. Sandford was telling me of the strange romance concerning his sister Ellen and young Bingham--a man who had come into eight thousand a year from his uncle, and only a few days later had met with an accident in Swindon, having been knocked down by a train at a level-crossing. Presently, after dessert, our conversation ran upon ports and their vintages, when suddenly my host remarked: "I don't know whether you are a connoisseur of brandies, but I happen to have a couple of rather rare vintages. Let's try them." I confessed I knew but little about brandies. "Then I'll teach you how to test them in future," he laughed, adding, "Henry, bring up those three old cognacs, a bottle of ordinary brandy, and some liqueur-glasses." In a few minutes a dozen little glasses made their appearance on a tray, together with four bottles of brandy, three unlabelled, while the fourth bore the label of a well-known brand. "It is not generally known, I think, that one cannot test brandy with any degree of accuracy by the palate," he said, removing his cigar. "I wasn't aware of that," I said. "Well, I'll show you," he went on, and taking four glasses in a row he poured a little spirit out of each of the bottles into the bottoms of the glasses. This done, he twisted each glass round in order to wet the inside with the spirit, and the surplus he emptied into his finger-bowl. Then, handing me two, he said: "Just hold one in each hand till they're warm. So." And taking the remaining two he held one in the hollow of each hand. For a couple or three minutes we held them thus while he chatted about the various vintages. Then we placed them in a row. "Now," he said, "take up each one separately and smell it." I did so, and found a most pleasant perfume--each, however, quite separate and distinct, as different as eau-de-Cologne is from lavender water. "This," he said, after sniffing at one glass, "is 1815--Waterloo year--a magnificent vintage. And this," he went on, handing me the second glass, "is 1829--very excellent, but quite a distinct perfume, you notice. The third is 1864--also good. Of the 1815 I very fortunately have two bottles. Bellamy, in Pall Mall, has three bottles, and there are perhaps four bottles in all Paris. That is all that's left of it. The fourth--smell it--is the ordinary brandy of commerce." I did so, but the odour was nauseating after the sweet and distinct perfume of the other three. "Just try the 1815," he urged, carefully pouring out about a third of a glass of the precious pale gold liquid and handing it to me. I sipped it, finding it exceedingly pleasant to the palate. So old was it that it seemed to have lost all its strength. It was a really delicious liqueur--the liqueur of a gourmet, and assuredly a fitting conclusion to that excellent repast.