This hand-shaking, however, was followed by an invitation to dinner from each individual in the company. I looked at Captain Transom, as much as to say, “Can they mean us to take them at their word?” He nodded. “We are sorry, that being under orders to go to sea on Sunday morning, neither Mr Cringle nor myself can have the pleasure of accepting such kind invitations.” “Well, when you come back you know--one day you must give me.” “And I won’t be denied,” quoth a second. “Liberty Hall, you know, so to me you must come, no ceremony,” said a third--and so on. At length, no less a man drove up to the door, than Judge----. When he drew up, his servant, who was sitting behind on a small projection of the ketureen, came round and took a parcel out of the gig, closely wrapped in a blanket--“Bring that carefully in, Leonidas,” said the Judge, who now stumped up stairs with a small saw in his hand. He received the parcel, and, laying it down carefully in a corner, he placed the saw on it, and then came up and shook hands with Wagtail, and made his bow very gracefully. “What--can’t you do without your ice and sour claret yet?” said Wagtail. “Never mind, never mind,” said the Judge; and here dinner being announced, we all adjourned to the dining room, where a very splendid entertainment was set out, to which we set to, and in the end, as it will appear, did the utmost justice to it. The wines were most exquisite. Madeira, for instance, never can be drunk in perfection anywhere out of the Tropics. You may have the wine as good at home, although I doubt it, but then you have not the climate to drink it in--I would say the same of most of the delicate French wines--that is, those that will stand the voyage--Burgundy of course not included; but never mind, let us get along.