ld be full of holes, cheese should have none. Just then Hilary
entered and completed the triad by adding that ale should make you see
double.

So he called for the brown jug, and he and I had a glass. On my side
of the jug stood a sportsman in breeches and gaiters, his gun
presented, and ever in the act to fire: his dog pointed, and the birds
were flying towards Hilary. Though rude in design the scene was true
to nature and the times: from the buttons on the coat to the long
barrel of the gun, the details were accurate and nothing improved to
suit the artist's fancy. To me these old jugs and mugs and bowls have
a deep and human interest, for you can seem to see and know the men
who drank from them in the olden days.

Now a tall Worcester vase, with all its elegance and gilding, though
it may be valued at 5,000_l._, lacks that sympathy, and may please the
eye but does not touch the heart. For it has never shared in the
jovial feast nor comforted the weary; the soul of man has never
communicated to it some of its own subtle essence. But this hollow
bowl whispers back the genial songs that were shouted over it a
hundred years ago. On the ancient Grecian pottery, too, the hunter
with his spear chases the boar or urges his hounds after the flying
deer; the women are dancing, and you can almost hear the notes of the
flute. These things were part of their daily life; these are no
imaginary pictures of imaginary and impossible scenes: they are simply
scenes in which every one then took part. So I think that the old
English jugs and mugs and bowls are true art, with something of the
antique classical spirit in them, for truly you can read the hearts of
the folk for whom they were made. They have rendered the interpretation
easy by writing their minds upon them: the motto, 'Prosperity to the
Flock,' for instance, is a good one still; and 'Drink fair; don't
swear,' is yet a very pleasant and suitable admonition.

As I looked at the jug, the cat coughed under the table. 'Ah,' said
Mrs. Luckett, 'when the cat coughs, the cold goes through the house.'
Hilary, returning to the subject of the cheese, said that the best was
made when the herd grazed on old pastures: there was a pasture field
of his which it was believed had been grazed for fully two hundred
years. When he was a boy, the cheese folk made to keep at home for
eating often became so hard that, unable to cut it, they were obliged
to use a saw. Still longer ago, they used