"
"Well," answered Mr. Brimberly, squinting at an empty bottle, "I used to
know a very good song once, called 'Let's drownd all our sorrers and
cares.' But good 'eavens! we can't drownd 'em in empty bottles, can we?"
"Oh, very good!" chuckled Mr. Jenkins, "oh, very prime! If I might
suggest, there's nothin' like port--port's excellent tipple for
drowndin' sorrer and downing care--what?"
"Port, sir?" repeated Mr. Brimberly, "we 'ave enough port in our
cellars to drownd every sorrer an' care in Noo York City. I'm proud of
our port, sir, and I'm reckoned a bit of a connysoor--"
"Ah, it takes a eddicated palate to appreciate good port!" nodded Mr.
Jenkins loftily, "a eddicated palate--what?"
"Cert'nly!" added Mr. Stevens, "an' here's two palates waitin', waitin'
an' ready to appreciate till daylight doth appear."
"There's nothin' like port!" sighed Mr. Brimberly, setting aside the
empty champagne bottle, "nothin' like port, and there's Young Har 'ardly
can tell it from sherry--oh, the Goth! the Vandyle! All this good stuff
would be layin' idle if it wasn't for me! Young Har ain't got no right
to be a millionaire; 'is money's wasted on 'im--he neglects 'is
opportoonities shameful--eh, shameful! What I say is--what's the use
of bein' a millionaire if you don't air your millions?"
Hereupon Mr.
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