ever wishing to dismiss her from the "Bugle." The fact is, that
Miss Catherine was a great beauty, and for about two years, since
her fame had begun to spread, the custom of the inn had also
increased vastly. When there was a debate whether the farmers, on
their way from market, would take t'other pot, Catherine, by
appearing with it, would straightway cause the liquor to be
swallowed and paid for; and when the traveller who proposed riding
that night and sleeping at Coventry or Birmingham, was asked by Miss
Catherine whether he would like a fire in his bedroom, he generally
was induced to occupy it, although he might before have vowed to
Mrs. Score that he would not for a thousand guineas be absent from
home that night. The girl had, too, half-a-dozen lovers in the
village; and these were bound in honour to spend their pence at the
alehouse she inhabited. O woman, lovely woman! what strong resolves
canst thou twist round thy little finger! what gunpowder passions
canst thou kindle with a single sparkle of thine eye! what lies and
fribble nonsense canst thou make us listen to, as they were gospel
truth or splendid wit! above all what bad liquor canst thou make us
swallow when thou puttest a kiss within the cup--and we are content
to call the poison wine!

The mountain-wine at the "Bugle" was, in fact, execrable; but Mrs.
Cat, who served it to the two soldiers, made it so agreeable to
them, that they found it a passable, even a pleasant task, to
swallow the contents of a second bottle. The miracle had been
wrought instantaneously on her appearance: for whereas at that very
moment the Count was employed in cursing the wine, the landlady, the
wine-grower, and the English nation generally, when the young woman
entered and (choosing so to interpret the oaths) said, "Coming, your
honour; I think your honour called"--Gustavus Adolphus whistled,