456 MR. THOMAS ROBINSON. 



1 immediately expelled.' Then in due course came a 

 demand for ' a story ' from the chairman, a proposal 

 received in every quarter of the room, already suffused 

 Avith smoke and the rich odours of steaming grog, 

 with shouts of approval. And of course the story 

 followed ; and I prefer to give it as nearly as I can 

 remember in my old friend's own words : 



' The story,' said the chairman, ' of the ubiquitous 

 porcine quadruped, or the changeable foxhound 

 puppy, is what I shall now relate. Frank Butler 

 (we all know him) was fond of jokes, and was him- 

 self a good punster. He was also fond of shooting 

 and hunting, and ' walked a puppy.' He rented a 

 manor close by, and in company with his brother 

 William and Sam Roarers had finished beating; some 

 turnips, and had retired to the leeward side of a 

 corn-stack just made, for the purpose of having 

 luncheon, the pupj)y following them, when they saw 

 old Tom Brenty coming with a sack slung carelessly 

 across his shoulders. He was about half-witted, or 

 in provincial language " daft," and would do no 

 regular work, but earned a scanty precarious living 

 by going on errands. To him Frank said : 

 ' " What have you got in the sack, Tommy ?" 

 ' To which he replied in his stammering way : 

 ' " A so-o-o-sow pig for Mr. Barratt at the 

 Grange." 



' They gave him some lunch, and whilst Frank 

 amused him, Sam and William managed to take the 



