human
I was afraid I had carelessly broken the last bottle of that precious Constantia which I brought with me from the Cape of Good Hope. It is strange that no soil will grow that wine but that of one little vineyard under the South African sun.
gpt
Uncle Joseph, you never told me anything about your voyages. But what are you keeping that wine for?
human
To drink a welcome home to Joe when he returns from Europe next month. You must dine with us the day after he gets back. Will has still another year at Göttingen.
gpt
Nothing would give me more pleasure.
human
You spoke of my voyages just now: have you never heard the story of my early life?
gpt
Never, Uncle Joseph, I answered eagerly.
human
Can't you tell me all about it to-night?
gpt
Well, perhaps I may. That bottle of wine suggested memories of a singular and sad incident, and the sound of that storm without recalls it all as if it were yesterday. It happened on the homeward passage when I made my last voyage to the Cape, and I have never since looked at that Constantia without thinking of it.