country a deal of good. I take a glass of
ale myself, under medical advice, because cold water disagrees with
me, and I've never yet had the aerated drink recommended that wasn't
followed by flatulence."

"There's neither mirth nor music in 'em" agreed Mr Latter.

"I do not seek either mirth or music in the little I make use of,"
Mrs Polsue corrected him; "and on general grounds I agree with total
abstinence."

[In this the lady said no more than the truth. She had lamented,
scores of times, an infirmity of the flesh which, forbidding her to
chastise the indulgence of moderate drinking, protected a truly
enormous class of fellow-creatures from her missionary disapproval.
Often and often she had envied Charity Oliver, who could consume tea
with hot sausages and even ham rashers. "To have the stomach of an
ostrich must be a privilege indeed," she had once assured her friend;
"though to be sure it tells on the complexion, forcing the blood to
the face; so that (from a worldly point of view) at a distance a
different construction might be put on it."]

"Tea with sausages, for instance!"

"The same here--Poison!" Mr Latter agreed, delicately indicating
where "here" lay for him.

"My father ever kept a generous table, which he was in a position to
afford." Mrs Polsue sighed, and added with resignation, "I suppose
we must say that the fathers have eaten sour grapes and the
children's teeth are set on edge."

"I wouldn' put it just like that, ma'am-not from what I've heard of
the old gentleman's knowledge o' liquor."

"It will bear hardly on you, Latter, if the King and Parliament
should put the country under Prohibition?"

["Drabbet the old cat!" murmured Mr Latter to himself.
"She's fishing to get at my banking account, and a lot she'd
interfere if 'twas the workhouse with me to-morrow."]

Aloud he said, rubbing his thumb on the edge of the augur and
preparing to make incision upon the cask, "Well, ma'am, I reckon as
the Lord will provide mortification enough for us before we're out o'
this business, without our troublin' to get in ahead. The way I
looks at it is, 'Let's be cheerful.' In my experience o' life there's
no bank like cheerfulness for a man to draw upon, to keep hisself fit
and industrious. What's more--if I may say it--'most every staid
man, afore he gets to forty, has pretty well come to terms with his
innards. He knows--if you'll excuse the figger o' speech, ma'am--
what's the pressure 'po