Old Bex. 135 



" All right," said I. " But it only gives you 

 permission to carry a gun ; it does not authorize 

 you to kill game." 



" Ah ! " said Ben, with an inexpressibly cun- 

 ning and knowing look. "It don't say you 

 hain't to." 



We could not help being immensely amused, 

 but I said to Ben, "I am afraid that cock won t 



fight." 



When w^e began to smoke Ben looked for 

 and always got permission to use his own 

 black cutty ; but he always had a terrible 

 job, for what with his talking incessantly, the 

 dampness of the tobacco, and the pipe (from 

 being carried amongst the debris in his waist- 

 coat pocket) being in a chronic state of 

 " choked up," it was a work of difficulty. I 

 think this continual pulling at his pipe must 

 have occasioned Ben's cheeks to be so hollow 

 and lanthorn-jawed, for he would, as soon as he 

 saw smoke begin to appear, commence telling 

 us some tale or other, and out the pipe would 

 go again, the whole process having to be gone 

 through again, so that he usually consumed 

 nearly a box of matches at a sitting. 



In the village where Ben lived there w^as a 



