There were similar small cups on the table filled with lemonade, and here and there a decanter of Madeira wine, of the Marsala kind, which some prefer to, and many more cannot distinguish from, that which comes from the Atlantic island.
"Take a glass of wine, Judge," said, the Colonel; "here is an article that I rather think 'll suit you." The Judge knew something of wines, and could tell all the famous old Madeiras from each other, "Eclipse," "Juno," the almost fabulously scarce and precious "White-top," and the rest.

He struck the nativity of the Mediterranean Madeira before it had fairly moistened his lip.
"A sound wine, Colonel, and I should think of a genuine vintage.

Your very good health." "Deacon Soper," said the Colonel, "here is some Madary Judge Thornton recommends.

Let me fill you a glass of it." The Deacon's eyes glistened.

He was one of those consistent Christians who stick firmly by the first miracle and Paul's advice to Timothy.
"A little good wine won't hurt anybody," said the Deacon.