calmer。　　By　degrees　he　became　so；　and　tranquilly　walked　back　with
  me　to　the　hotel。　　There；　I　sat　down　before　I　went　to　bed　and　wrote
  a　faithful　account　of　him　to　the　Englishman：　　which　I　concluded　by
  saying　that　I　would　bring　the　wine　home；　against　any　difficulties；
  every　drop。
  Early　next　morning；　when　I　came　out　at　the　hotel　door　to　pursue　my
  journey；　I　found　my　friend　waiting　with　one　of　those　immense
  bottles　in　which　the　Italian　peasants　store　their　wine　…　a　bottle
  holding　some　half…dozen　gallons　…　bound　round　with　basket…work　for
  greater　safety　on　the　journey。　　I　see　him　now；　in　the　bright
  sunshine；　tears　of　gratitude　in　his　eyes；　proudly　inviting　my
  attention　to　this　corpulent　bottle。　　（At　the　street…comer　hard　by；
  two　high…flavoured；　able…bodied　monks　…　pretending　to　talk
  together；　but　keeping　their　four　evil　eyes　upon　us。）
  How　the　bottle　had　been　got　there；　did　not　appear；　but　the
  difficulty　of　getting　it　into　the　ramshackle　vetturino　carriage　in
  which　I　was　departing；　was　so　great；　and　it　took　up　so　much　room
  when　it　was　got　in；　that　I　elected　to　sit　outside。　　The　last　I　saw
  of　Giovanni　Carlavero　was　his　running　through　the　town　by　the　side
  of　the　jingling　wheels；　clasping　my　hand　as　I　stretched　it　down
  from　the　box；　charging　me　with　a　thousand　last　loving　and　dutiful
  messages　to　his　dear　patron；　and　finally　looking　in　at　the　bottle
  as　it　reposed　inside；　with　an　admiration　of　its　honourable　way　of
  travelling　that　was　beyond　measure　delightful。
  And　now；　what　disquiet　of　mind　this　dearly…beloved　and　highly…
  treasured　Bottle　began　to　cost　me；　no　man　knows。　　It　was　my
  precious　charge　through　a　long　tour；　and；　for　hundreds　of　miles；　I
  never　had　it　off　my　mind　by　day　or　by　night。　　Over　bad　roads　…　and
  they　were　many　…　I　clung　to　it　with　affectionate　desperation。　　Up
  mountains；　I　looked　in　at　it　and　saw　it　helplessly　tilting　over　on
  its　back；　with　terror。　　At　innumerable　inn　doors　when　the　weather
  was　bad；　I　was　obliged　to　be　put　into　my　vehicle　before　the　Bottle
  could　be　got　in；　and　was　obliged　to　have　the　Bottle　lifted　out
  before　human　aid　could　come　near　me。　　The　Imp　of　the　same　name；
  except　that　his　associations　were　all　evil　and　these　associations
  were　all　good；　would　have　been　a　less　troublesome　travelling
  companion。　　I　might　have　served　Mr。　Cruikshank　as　a　subject　for　a
  new　illustration　of　the　miseries　of　the　Bottle。　　The　National
  Temperance　Society　might　have　made　a　powerful　Tract　of　me。
  The　suspicions　that　attached　to　this　innocent　Bottle；　greatly
  aggravated　my　difficulties。　　It　was　like　the　apple…pie　in　the
  child's　book。　　Parma　pouted　at　it；　Modena　mocked　it；　Tuscany
  tackled　it；　Naples　nibbled　it；　Rome　refused　it；　Austria　accused　it；
  Soldiers　suspected　it；　Jesuits　jobbed　it。　　I　composed　a　neat
  Oration；　developing　my　inoffensive　intentions　in　connexion　with
  this　Bottle；　and　delivered　it　in　an　infinity　of　guard…houses；　at　a
  multitude　of　town　gates；　and　on　every　drawbridge；　angle；　and
  rampart；　of　a　complete　system　of　fortifications。　　Fifty　times　a
  day；　I　got　down　to　harangue　an　infuriated　soldiery　about　the
  Bottle。　　Through　the　filthy　degradation　of　the　abject　and　vile
  Roman　States；　I　had　as　much　difficulty　in　working　my　way　with　the
  Bottle；　as　if　it　had　bottled　up　a　complete　system　of　heretical
  theology。　　In　the　Neapolitan　country；　where　everybody　was　a　spy；　a
  soldier；　a　priest；　or　a　lazzarone；　the　shameless　beggars　of　all
  four　denominations　incessantly　pounced　on　the　Bottle　and　made　it　a
  pretext　for　extorting　money　from　me。　　Quires　…　quires　do　I　say？
  Reams　…　of　forms　illegibly　printed　on　whity…brown　paper　were　filled
  up　about　the　Bottle；　and　it　was　the　subject　of　more　stamping　and
  sanding　than　I　had　ever　seen　before。　　In　consequence　of　which　haze
  of　sand；　perhaps；　it　was　always　irregular；　and　always　latent　with
  dismal　penalties　of　going　back　or　not　going　forward；　which　were
  only　to　be　abated　by　the　silver　crossing　of　a　base　hand；　poked
  shirtless　out　of　a　ragged　uniform　sleeve。　　Under　all
  discouragements；　however；　I　stuck　to　my　Bottle；　and　held　firm　to　my
  resolution　that　every　drop　of　its　contents　should　reach　the
  Bottle's　destination。
  The　latter　refinement　cost　me　a　separate　heap　of　troubles　on　its
  own　separate　account。　　What　corkscrews　did　I　see　the　military　power
  bring　out　against　that　Bottle；　what　gimlets；　spikes；　divining　rods；
  gauges；　and　unknown　tests　and　instruments！　　At　some　places；　they
  persisted　in　declaring　that　the　wine　must　not　be　passed；　without
  being　opened　and　tasted；　I；　pleading　to　the　contrary；　used　then　to
  argue　the　question　seated　on　the　Bottle　lest　they　should　open　it　in
  spite　of　me。　　In　the　southern　parts　of　Italy　more　violent
  shrieking；　face…making；　and　gesticulating；　greater　vehemence　of
  speech　and　countenance　and　action；　went　on　about　that　Bottle　than
  would　attend　fifty　murders　in　a　northern　latitude。　　It　raised
  important　functionaries　out　of　their　beds；　in　the　dead　of　night。　　I
  have　known　half…a…dozen　military　lanterns　to　disperse　themselves　at
  all　points　of　a　great　sleeping　Piazza；　each　lantern　summoning　some
  official　creature　to　get　up；　put　on　his　cocked…hat　instantly；　and
  come　and　stop　the　Bottle。　　It　was　characteristic　that　while　this
  innocent　Bottle　had　such　immense　difficulty　in　getting　from　little
  town　to　town；　Signor　Mazzini　and　the　fiery　cross　were　traversing
  Italy　from　end　to　end。
  Still；　I　stuck　to　my　Bottle；　like　any　fine　old　English　gentleman
  all　of　the　olden　time。　　The　more　the　Bottle　was　interfered　with；
  the　stauncher　I　became　（if　possible）　in　my　first　determination　that
  my　countryman　should　have　it　delivered　to　him　intact；　as　the　man
  whom　he　had　so　nobly　restored　to　life　and　liberty　had　delivered　it
  to　me。　　If　ever　I　had　been　obstinate　in　my　days　…　and　I　may　have
  been；　say；　once　or　twice　…　I　was　obstinate　about　the　Bottle。　　But；
  I　made　it　a　rule　always　to　keep　a　pocket　full　of　small　coin　at　its
  service；　and　never　to　be　out　of　temper　in　its　cause。　　Thus；　I　and
  the　Bottle　made　our　way。　　Once　we　had　a　break…down；　rather　a　bad
  break…down；　on　a　steep　high　place　with　the　sea　below　us；　on　a
  tempestuous　evening　when　it　blew　great　guns。　　We　were　driving　four
  wild　horses　abreast；　Southern　fashion；　and　there　was　some　little
  difficulty　in　stopping　them。　　I　was　outside；　and　not　thrown　off；
  but　no　words　can　describe　my　feelings　when　I　saw　the　Bottle　…
  travelling　inside；　as　usual　…　burst　the　door　open；　and　roll　obesely
  out　into　the　road。　　A　blessed　Bottle　with　a　charmed　existence；　he
  took　no　hurt；　and　we　repaired　damage；　and　went　on　triumphant。
  A　thousand　representations　were　made　to　me　that　the　Bottle　must　be
  left　at　this　place；　or　that；　and　called　for　again。　　I　never　yielded
  to　one　of　them；　and　never　parted　from　the　Bottle；　on　any　pretence；
  consideration；　threat；　or　entreaty。　　I　had　no　faith　in　any　official
  receipt　for　the　Bottle；　and　nothing　would　induce　me　to　accept　one。
  These　unmanageable　politics　at　last　brought　me　and　the　Bottle；
  still　triumphant；　to　Genoa。　　There；　I　took　a　tender　and　reluctant
  leave　of　him　for　a　few　weeks；　and　consigned　him　to　a　trusty　English
  captain；　to　be　conveyed　to　the　Port　of　London　by　sea。
  While　the　Bottle　was　on　his　voyage　to　England；　I　read　the　Shipping
  Intelligence　as　anxiously　as　if　I　had　been　an　underwriter。　　There
  was　some　stormy　weather　after　I　myself　had　got　to　England　by　way　of
  Switzerland　and　France；　and　my　mind　greatly　misgave　me　that　the
  Bottle　might　be　wrecked。　　At　last　to　my　great　joy；　I　received
  notice　of　his　safe　arrival；　and　immediately　went　down　to　Saint
  Katharine's　Docks；　and　found　him　in　a　state　of　honourable　captivity
  in　the　Custom　House。
  The　wine　was　mere　vinegar　when　I　set　it　down　before　the　generous
  Englishman　…　probably　it　had　been　something　like　vinegar　when　I
  took　it　up　from　Giovanni　Carlavero　…　but　not　a　drop　of　it　was
  spilled　or　gone。　　And　the　Englishman　told　me；　with　much　emotion　in
  his　face　and　voice；　that　he　had　never　tasted　wine　that　seemed　to
  him　so　sweet　and　sound。　　And　long　afterwards；　the　Bottle　graced　his
  table。　　And　the　last　time　I　saw　him　in　this　world　that　misses　him；
  he　took　me　aside　in　a　crowd；　to　say；　with　his　amiable　smile：　　'We
  were　talking　of　you　only　to…day　at　dinner；　and　I　wished　you　had
  been　there；　for　I　had　some　Claret　up　in　Carlavero's　Bottle。'
  CHAPTER　XVIII　…　THE　CALAIS　NIGHT　MAIL
  It　is　an　unsettled　question　with　me　whether　I　shall　leave　Calais
  something　handsome　in　my　will；　or　whether　I　shall　leave　it　my
  malediction。　　I　hate　it　so　much；　and　yet　I　am　always　so　very　glad
  to　see　it；　that　I　am　in　a　state　of　constant　indecision　on　this
  subject。　　When　I　first　made　acquaintance　with　Calais；　it　was　as　a
  maundering　young　wretch　in　a　clammy　perspiration　and　dripping
  saline　particles；　who　was　conscious　of　no　extremities　but　the　one
  great　extremity；　sea…sickness　…　who　was　a　mere　bilious　torso；　with
  a　mislaid　headache　somewhere　in　its　stomach　…　who　had　been　put　in