Petri wine brings you

Basil Rathman and Nigel Bruce

in the new adventures of Sherlock Holmes

The Petrie family, the family that took time to bring you good wine.

Invite you to listen to Dr. Watson tell about another exciting adventure he shared with his old friend that master detective Sherlock Holmes. Of course, I can't be as entertaining as Dr. Watson, but I can tell you something that's really worth knowing. Simply this. The best beginning a good meal ever had is a glass of Petri, California sherry. Petri sherry is the perfect before-dinner wine.

Why are you waiting for dinner to be put on the table? Pour yourself a glass of that clear, amber-colored petri-sherry.

Now, just sit back and sip it slowly. Take your time so you can thoroughly enjoy every single drop of that wonderful petri flavor. And what a

flavor that sherry has. Comes right from the sun-ripe and heart of wonderful California grapes.

Now, you may be a real wine expert and know all about sherry wine, but believe me until you've

tried a petri sherry, you're really missing something, and no kidding. Serve petri sherry alone,

or serve it with canopies or appetizers.

And by all means, serve it proudly.

You can, because the letters P-E-T-R-I, spell the proudest name in the history of American wines.

Petri.

Music And now for our weekly visit with a good Dr. Watson.

Let's see if he's expecting us.

Come in, come in, come in.

Oh, good evening, doctor.

Good evening, Mr. Campbell. It's about time you've got here. Drop a chair and make you so comfortable. Oh, thanks. Why, you have the old black dispatch box out again, I see. I suppose you've been going over your notes on tonight's adventure. That's right, my boy. This may interest you. Mrs. Watson figured prominently in the story. She did? Yes, in fact, if it hadn't been for some remarkably quick thinking on her part, Holmes and I might have... Well, there I go again, telling you the end of the story before I've begun it. Well, how did it begin, Doctor? On a winter evening in 1887. I've been married some months, and in consequence, I haven't seen much of my old friend Sherlock Holmes. Well, he was still living at Baker Street, I suppose. Yes, my boy, but we couldn't persuade him to come around and see us. From time to time, I'd heard some vague accounts of his doings, of his summons to Addessa, in the case of the Trip-off murder, and of his clearing up up the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers,

but to get back to tonight's story, my wife and I had just finished an excellent dinner.

I remember it'd settle ourselves down for an evening of present domesticity.

She was stitching away on a piece of expert petit-poise, and I was at my desk balancing

...