“Never!” “Think of that! Not a bit of corned beef, nor as much as a leg of pork--” “Would n't hear of it,” interrupted Foglass. “Wine, too, is forbidden.” “And punch?” “Of course, punch also. A pipe, a cup of coffee, the bath, and a little opium are the luxuries of Turkish existence.” “To the devil I fling them all four,” cried Dalton, impatiently. “How a man is to be social beside a coffeepot, or up to his neck in hot water, beats me entirely. Faix! I don't envy the Turks!” And he sipped his glass as he spoke, like one who had fallen upon a happier destiny. “If you 'll mix me a very small glass of that punch, I'd like to propose a toast,” said Foglass. “There, now, that's spoke like a sensible man; pleasant company and social enjoyment are the greatest enemies to the gout. Make your mind easy, and keep your heart light, and the devil a fear but your knees will get limber, and the swellin' will leave your ankles; but weak punch and tiresome people would undermine the best constitution in the world. Taste that.” To judge from Mr. Foglass's face, Dalton had at least provided one element of health for his companion. “It is very strong very strong, indeed!” said he, puckering up his eyes. “It's the fault of the water hereabouts,” said Dalton. “It doesn't mix right with the spirits; so that one half the first, generally of your liquor tastes stiff, but the bottom is mild as milk.” [Illustration: 384] The explanation gave such encouragement to Foglass, that he drank away freely, and it was only when he had finished that he remembered his intention of giving a toast. “Now, Mr. Dalton,” said he, as he sat up with a replenished glass in his hand, “I am going to redeem my pledge, and about to give you the health of the most beautiful girl in Italy, one whose attractions are the theme of every tongue, and whose ambitions may realize any height, or attain any eminence, that she pleases.” “Here 's to you, Kate Dalton,” broke in the father, “my own sweet child; and if you only come back to me as you went away, the sorrow better I ask, or grander.” “She will be a duchess; she may be a princess if she likes.” “Who knows who knows?” said Dalton, as he hung down his head, and hammered away with his spoon at the sugar in his glass. “Every one knows, every one sees it, Mr. Dalton,” said Foglass, authoritatively. “From the Archduke Ernest of Austria to the very pages of the court, all are her worshippers and admirers. She'll come back to you with a proud name and a high coronet, Mr. Dalton.” “The devil a better than Dalton ever 'twill be! that I can tell you. 'T is n't yesterday we took it, the same name; there 's stones in the churchyard of Ballyhack can show who we are; and if she married the--the God forgive me, I was going to say the Pope, but I meant the Grand Turk she would n't be better than she is now, as Kate Dalton.”