mouth to one of the ratholes. Something must come of it, if he doesn't
burst. Good heavens! I hope he has no apoplectic tendencies. Yes, here
it comes, sure enough, a gruesome sound between a moan and a roar, and
spreads itself away over the valley, and up the hillside, and into the
woods at the back of the house, a ghost-like, awful voice. "Um do say,
sir," says mine host, rising purple-faced, while the moan is still
coming out of the Stwun, "as they used in old times to warn the
country-side by blawing the Stwun when the enemy was a-comin', and as
how folks could make un heered then for seven mile round; leastways, so
I've heered Lawyer Smith say, and he knows a smart sight about them old
times." We can hardly swallow Lawyer Smith's seven miles; but could the
blowing of the stone have been a summons, a sort of sending the fiery
cross round the neighbourhood in the old times? What old times? Who
knows? We pay for our beer, and are thankful.

"And what's the name of the village just below, landlord?"

"Kingstone Lisle, sir."

"Fine plantations you've got here?"

"Yes, sir; the Squire's 'mazing fond of trees and such like."

"No wonder. He's got some real beauties to be fond of. Good-day,
landlord."

"Good-day, sir, and a pleasant ride to 'ee."

And now, my boys, you whom I want to get for readers, have you had
enough? Will you give in at once, and say you're convinced, and let me