he
legitimate door of the Tadcaster Inn, which had, beside it, a small
bastard door, by which people entered. To call it bastard is to mean
preferred. This lower door was the only one used, It opened into the
tavern, properly so called, which was a large taproom, full of tobacco
smoke, furnished with tables, and low in the ceiling. Over it was a
window on the first floor, to the iron bars of which was fastened and
hung the sign of the inn. The principal door was barred and bolted, and
always remained closed.

It was thus necessary to cross the tavern to enter the courtyard.

At the Tadcaster Inn there was a landlord and a boy. The landlord was
called Master Nicless, the boy Govicum. Master Nicless--Nicholas,
doubtless, which the English habit of contraction had made Nicless, was
a miserly widower, and one who respected and feared the laws. As to his
appearance, he had bushy eyebrows and hairy hands. The boy, aged
fourteen, who poured out drink, and answered to the name of Govicum,
wore a merry face and an apron. His hair was cropped close, a sign of
servitude.

He slept on the ground floor, in a nook in which they formerly kept a
dog. This nook had for window a bull's-eye looking on the bowling-green.

CHAPTER II.

OPEN-AIR ELOQUENCE.

One very cold and windy evening, on which there was every reason why
folks should hasten on their way along the street, a man, who was
walking in Tarrinzeau Field close under the walls of the tavern, stopped
suddenly. It was during the last months of winter between 1704 and 1705.
This man, whose dress indicated a sailor, was of good mien and fine
figure, things imperative to courtiers, and not forbidden to common
folk.

Why did he stop? To listen. What to? To a voice apparently speaking in
the court on the other side of the wall, a voice a little weakened by
age, but so powerful notwithstanding that it reached the passer-by in
the street. At the same time might be heard in the enclosure, from which
the voice came, the hubbub of a crowd.

This voice said,--

"Men and women of London, here I am! I cordially wish you joy of being
English. You are a great people. I say more: you are a great populace.
Your fisticuffs are even better than your sword thrusts. You have an
appetite. You are the nation which eats other nations--a magnificent
function! This suction of the world makes England preeminent. As
politicians and philosophers, in the management of colonies,
populations,