Nay, take the cup of blood-red wine,—
Our hearts can boast a warmer grow,
Filled from a vantage more divine,—
Calmed, but not chilled by winter’s snow!
To-night the palest wave we sip
Rich as the priceless draught shall be
That wet the bride of Cana’s lip,—
The wedding wine of Galilee!
CHAPTER VI
Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all.
—I think, Sir,—said the divinity-student,—you must intend that for one of
the sayings of the Seven Wise Men of Boston you were speaking of the
other day.
I thank you, my young friend,—was my reply,—but I must say something
better than that, before I could pretend to fill out the number.
—The schoolmistress wanted to know how many of these sayings there were
on record, and what, and by whom said.
—Why, let us see,—there is that one of Benjamin Franklin, “the great
Bostonian,” after whom this lad was named. To be sure, he said a great
many wise things,—and I don’t feel sure he didn’t borrow this,—he speaks
as if it were old. But then he applied it so neatly!—
“He that has once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you
another than he whom you yourself have obliged.”
Then there is that glorious Epicurean paradox, uttered by my friend, the
Historian, in one of his flashing moments:—
“Give us the luxuries of life, and we will dispense with its
necessaries.”
To these must certainly be added that other saying of one of the wittiest
of men:—
“Good Americans, when they die, go to Paris.”—
The divinity-student looked grave at this, but said nothing.
The schoolmistress spoke out, and said she didn’t think the wit meant any
irreverence. It was only another way of saying, Paris is a heavenly
place after New York or Boston.
A jaunty-looking person, who had come in with the young fellow they call
John,—evidently a stranger,—said there was one more wise man’s saying
that he had heard; it was about our place, but he didn’t know who said
it.—A civil curiosity was manifested by the company to hear the fourth
wise saying. I heard him distinctly whispering to the young fellow who
brought him to dinner, _Shall I tell it_? To which the answer was, _Go
ahead_!—Well,—he said,—this was what I heard:—
“Boston State-House is the hub of the solar system. You couldn’t pry
that out of a Boston man if you had the tire of all creation straightened
out for a crowbar.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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