he inn. The stranger, for such he was, was stout,
thick-set, and of middle height. His dress was not without pretension
to a rank higher than the lowest; but it was threadbare and worn,
and soiled with dust and travel. His appearance was by no means
prepossessing; small sunken eyes of a light hazel and a restless and
rather fierce expression, a thick flat nose, high cheekbones, a large
bony jaw, from which the flesh receded, and a bull throat indicative
of great strength, constituted his claims to personal attraction. The
stately Corporal, without moving, kept a vigilant and suspicious eye
upon the new comer, muttering to Peter,--"Customer for you; rum customer
too--by Gad!"

The stranger now reached the little table, and halting short, took up
the brown jug, without ceremony or preface, and emptied it at a draught.

The Corporal stared--the Corporal frowned; but before--for he was
somewhat slow of speech--he had time to vent his displeasure, the
stranger, wiping his mouth across his sleeve, said, in rather a civil
and apologetic tone,

"I beg pardon, gentlemen. I have had a long march of it, and very tired
I am."

"Humph! march," said the Corporal a little appeased, "Not in his
Majesty's service--eh?"

"Not now," answered the Traveller; then, turning round to Dealtry, he
said: "Are you landlord here?"

"At your service," said Peter, with the indifference of a man well to
do, and not ambitious of halfpence.

"Come, then, quick--budge," said the Traveller, tapping him on the back:
"bring more glasses--another jug of the October; and any thing or every
thing your larder is able to produce--d'ye hear?"

Peter, by no means pleased with the briskness of this address, eyed the
dusty and way-worn pedestrian from head to foot; then, looking over his
shoulder towards the door, he said, as he ensconced himself yet more
firmly on his seat--

"There's my wife by the door, friend; go, tell her what you want."

"Do you know," said the Traveller, in a slow and measured accent--"Do
you know, master Shrivel-face, that I have more than half a mind to
break your head for impertinence. You a landlord!--you keep an inn,
indeed! Come, Sir, make off, or--"

"Corporal!--Corporal!" cried Peter, retreating hastily from his seat as
the brawny Traveller approached menacingly towards him--"You won't see
the peace broken. Have a care, friend--have a care I'm clerk to the
parish--clerk to the parish, Sir--and I'll indict you for sacrile