common wine of Spain, was over Donald's throat, he stared wildly, as if he had just done some desperate deed--swallowed an adder by mistake, or committed some such awkward oversight. This expression of horror was followed by the most violent sputterings and hideous grimaces, accompanied by a prodigious assemblage of curses of all sorts, in Gaelic and English, and sometimes of an equal proportion of both. "Oich, oich! poisoned, by Cot!--vinekar, horrid vinekar! Lanlort, I say, what cursed stuffs is this you kive us?" And again Donald sputtered with an energy and perseverance that nothing but a sense of the utmost disgust and loathing could have inspired. Both the landlord and Donald's own guests, at once comprehending his feelings regarding the wine, hastened, by every act and sign they could think of, to assure him that he was wrong in entertaining so unfavourable an opinion of its character and qualities. Mine host, filling up a glass, raised it to his mouth, and, sipping a little of the liquor, smacked his lips, in token of high relish of its excellences. He then handed the glass round the company, all of whom tasted and approved, after the same expressive fashion; and thus, without a word being said, a collective opinion, hollow against Donald, was obtained. "Well, well, trink the apominations, and be curst to you!" said Donald, who perfectly understood that judgment had gone against him, "and much goot may't do you! but mysel would sooner trink the dirty bog water of Sleevrechkin. Oich, oich! the dirts! But I say, lanlort, maype you'll have got some prandies in the house? I can make shift wi' that when there's no whisky to be cot." Fortunately for Donald, mine host of the Golden Eagle at once understood the word brandy, and, understanding it, lost no time in placing a measure of that liquor before him; and as little time did Donald lose in swallowing an immense bumper of the inspiring alcohol.