'Never mind, Robert, never mind, broach the other cask.' I think I hear him saying so now. But," said the steward, in a tone which savoured of authority, "I was not to be put back in that style. No, no. I would have speech with him, and although I knew the good it would do might be piled on the point of a needle, yet still that never turned me from my purpose. 'If you please, sir,' I'd begin.

did

"To be sure I do,' replied he. When ye find me displeased?'

"If you please, sir,' I'd repeat, without noticing what he said, 'the fifty-four gallon cask is out that was tapped the day before yesterday.'

"Then tap another fifty-four,' rejoined the squire.

"But that'll soon be out, sir, if we go on in this fashion,' I'd be bold enough to tell him.

"Then drive a hole into another fiftyfour,' he'd he'd cry, in the loudest voice he

could raise and that was a stunner!-that

was.

"But there's only two more left of the three-year-old brewing, sir,' I'd answer. "Then brew some more,' he would say; เ and let it be as strong and as good as the last, and you can begin the two-year-old as soon as the three-year-old's finished.'

"Those were the only kind of answers I got," continued the butler, "and so it went on to the close; but, thank goodness! by hook or by crook, we are still able to have a drop of good beer by us, although it is but a drop to speak of, in comparison with what we once had."

The object of the steward's remarks was now seen approaching the house with hasty strides, closely followed by Tom Brainshaw.

"Here comes the squire," observed he, "and Miss Blanch's head-keeper with him. I wonder what he wants? I suppose a dip into our ale, like all the rest that touch their hats to the squire now."

Hastening from the room into the wide, desolate-looking hall-the stillness of which the hand of a domestic had not broken for many years, and, from the huge, dusty cobwebs spread in every corner, and hanging upon the beams stretched across the roof, it would appear that the spiders had taken no mean advantage of such neglect the butler applied his best powers of speed, to have the door opened by the time his well-beloved and generous-hearted master had arrived.

"Bring a good tankard of your best ale into the dining room, Robert," said the squire, entering the hall.

"I thought as much," replied the butler to himself, by way of easing his discomfiture. "He'd give the last pint away to such a man as Tom Brainshaw, when it's like sending coals to Newcastle. Why, he could drown himself in ale at the Rookery, if it in any way dove-tailed with his inclination."

"Now, Mr Brainshaw," said the squire,

ushering the gamekeeper into the dining room, "be seated."

"Thank ye, sir," replied Tom, with a manner bearing strong affinity to awkwardness, "I'll stand, sir, thank ye."

"No, no, no," rejoined the squire, pointing to a chair. "That which I have to communicate will occupy some time. Besides which, Tom, you have to drink a quart, at least, of my best beer, and I never permit any one to drink in my presence on foot."

"It doesn't seem quite like my duty, sir, to sit in your presence," returned the keeper, still bent upon the object of which he never lost sight.

"Then endeavour to make it appear a pleasure," added the squire. "Take a

chair."

The latter part of this direction was too much like an order for Tom Brainshaw to withstand any longer, and he therefore dropped into the chair suddenly, and without

any apparent control upon the disposition of

his person.

With a ready, although it can scarcely be said with a liberal hand, the butler brought a foaming brown jug, frothed like a cauliflower for its head, and placed it within the reach of the keeper's brawny hand.

"There, Tom," said the squire, good humouredly, "take a dive deeply into that before I commence my business with ye."

Considering it imperative to do whatever he was told, the gamekeeper took the jug in his hand and glanced towards the squire, as if doubtful as to the duty of wishing him "a health," or drinking in silence.

"Never hesitate," observed the squire, throwing himself into a recumbent posture upon a couch, which creaked and squeaked under the weight and the effects of age, "never hesitate," repeated he, seeing Mr Brainshaw's portrayed bashfulness, "with a kiss or a draught. Both require-or I