JOHN DAY 203 



" Let go my horse's head, sir," said I. addressing 

 myself to the ostler ; this the fellow instantly did, and, 

 just touching him with the whip, we were soon under 

 Mr. Day's hospitable roof, where I always had a hearty 

 Avelcome. 



We had scarcely discussed a good evening's meal, at 

 which I always substituted malt liquor for tlie lighter and 

 more polite beverage — and my excellent host's home- 

 brewed was of the best quality, and recommended itself 

 strongly to my not very elevated taste — when the subject 

 of our, or rather my, laughter came in. I saw instantly 

 that he was another man ; my coolness and self-possession 

 had subdued him. Seeing me, too, a welcome guest at 

 the house of his neighbour and friend, he found reason to 

 alter his tone. 



He addressed me bv name, which he had learned in the 

 interim, and said he was sorry he had stopped me ; adding 

 that had he known my name, or where I was going to, 

 he should not have done so ; but he considered himself 

 very unhandsomely dealt with by my running against 

 him and causing his ejectment into the purling brook. 



I attempted an explanation, pleading ignorance, and 

 attributing the accident to the effects of Rumsey Fair, and 

 the excellent port of mine host of the "White Horse." 

 After a little further argument or altercation, our friend 

 Day interfered, and proposed our shaking hands and 

 drownino; all animositv in a bottle of the best his cellar 

 could afford. This was speedily put on the table, and on 

 the angry Boniface had the desired effect. 



But this comic interlude preceded a very serious 

 afterpiece. 



