You must know that sometimes old women like a glass of wine.
One of this sort once found a Wine-jar lying in the road, and
eagerly went up to it hoping to find it full. But when she took
it up she found that all the wine had been drunk out of it. Still
she took a long sniff1 at the mouth of the Jar. "Ah," she cried,
"What memories cling 'round the instruments of our pleasure."
