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" Now 'twas said Lord Cedric could drink more
without becoming undignified than any other man of his company, but it
seemed he gave himself to the spirit of the moment and had drunk deep.
When the young blood upon the table offered the toast, Cedric sprung
as if shot to the table, where he staggered and would have fallen, had
it not been for the youth who bore him up. Holtcolm, in his drunken
anxiety for his neighbour's steadiness, stood near him and with
tender, maudlin solicitude began to flick the grains of bergamot
scented snuff from the lace of Lord Cedric's steenkirk. At the same
time from the glass he held there spilled on his Lordship's brocaded
coat of blue and silver a good half-pint of wine. Cedric upon being
balanced had forgotten what he wanted to say, and turned to his
supporter.
"What was it Holt-colm--I was goin' to shay?" Neither could remember,
so his Lordship continued with what seemed to weigh upon his mind:
"'Tis thish: 'tis my deshire thish should be made a memorable--a night
worthy of remembrance.


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