gentleman who so well knew how to appreciate its excellences.

'Now THIS is the thing!' cried he, pouring out a glass of the same
in a long stream, skilfully directed from the jug to the tumbler,
so as to produce much foam without spilling a drop; and, having
surveyed it for a moment opposite the candle, he took a deep
draught, and then smacked his lips, drew a long breath, and
refilled his glass, my mother looking on with the greatest
satisfaction.

'There's nothing like this, Mrs. Markham!' said he. 'I always
maintain that there's nothing to compare with your home-brewed
ale.'

'I'm sure I'm glad you like it, sir. I always look after the
brewing myself, as well as the cheese and the butter - I like to
have things well done, while we're about it.'

'Quite right, Mrs. Markham!'

'But then, Mr. Millward, you don't think it wrong to take a little
wine now and then - or a little spirits either!' said my mother, as
she handed a smoking tumbler of gin-and-water to Mrs. Wilson, who
affirmed that wine sat heavy on her stomach, and whose son Robert
was at that moment helping himself to a pretty stiff glass of the
same.

'By no means!' replied the oracle, with a Jove-like nod; 'these
things are all blessings and mercies, if we only knew how to make
use of them.'