A winter's day. 265 



stable, man and clog to the settle. " Xo ! my good 

 hostess," I exclaimed, to Mrs. Carey, " not to the 

 little parlour," which on these occasions had a hre 

 ready lighted for us ; "I am all for the well-smoked 

 chimney corner, its settle, and the blazing turf Xow 

 the little round table, a glass of ' dog's nose ' (gin and 

 beer with a little sugar and a toast in it, white with 

 froth as if in mockery at the snow), and then I'll be 

 thawed by the time of Lord Malmsbury's arrival." 

 Down we sat, Jessie and I, to enjoy our toast and 

 ale, the two heavy double John Mantons of eleven 

 gauge, their snowed-on covers taken off, in a warm 

 corner. 



In came a man. " Mercy on us, good fellow, shut 

 the door :" the very snow wants to work in and warm 

 its pallid face. " Cold morning, sir," was the reply. 

 " Pint o' beer, mum !" — bolted in no time, — and off 

 the rustic Avent, flapping his arms like a windmill. 

 " Dash that door, there's the latch again." But this 

 time it only opened sufficiently to admit a head ; — a 

 queer-looking black face it had to it, with grizzled 

 wool above, matchino; the fallino^ sleet on other thinsfs : 

 it begged for the still outside body to be permitted to 

 come in for a moment and warm itself. " No," was 

 the hostess's repellant reply, as she bustled up to the 

 door to shut it, at the risk of beheading the trembling 

 requisitionist. " This is no place just now for the like 

 o'3'ou;" — alluding, in all probability, to my presence, 

 and the expected approach of Lord Malmsbury. I saw 

 the repulsed body, liead and all, as its owner a poor 

 Negro looked in with longing eyes as he crept past the 

 window, with less clothes upon him than I ever saw on 

 anything like a man, save as assigned in pictorial re- 

 presentations of Adam. A few rags hung about him. 



