"Oh, no," she replied. "Please do not offer her money, if you
see her. She would be offended. There is no one in this
village who would take a shilling as a gift from a stranger.
We all have enough; there is not a poor person among us."

"What a happy village!" I exclaimed. "Perhaps you are all
total abstainers."

She laughed, and said that they all brewed their own beer
--there was not a total abstainer among them. Every cottager
made from fifty to eighty gallons, or more, and they drank
beer every day, but very moderately, while it lasted. They
were all very sober; their children would have to go to some
neighbouring village to see a tipsy man.

I remarked that at the next village, which had three
public-houses, there were a good marry persons so poor that
they would gladly at any time take a shilling from any one.

It was the same everywhere in the district, she said, except
in that village which had no public-house. Not only were they
better off, and independent of blanket societies and charity
in all forms, but they were infinitely happier. And after the
day's work the men came home to spend the evening with their
wives and children.

At this stage I was surprised by a sudden burst of passion on
her part. She stood up, her face flushing red, and solemnly
declared that if ever a public-house was opened in that
village, and if the men took to spending their evenings in it,