206 Field and Forest Rambles. 



and a kind welcome to gentle and simple, whether he pays 

 his way or is a penniless tramp. I will not particularize 

 individual instances, which indeed would be black ingratitude 

 for more substantial benefits received, but I may state in a 

 general way, for the information of the wayfarer in the wilds of 

 New Brunswick, nay, even in the so-called teetotaling state of 

 Maine, that there is little difficulty in procuring at all events 

 abundance of " white-eye," * or even better liquors, provided 

 there is a clear understanding between him and " mine host." 

 I recollect an occasion, during one trip, when a very civil and 

 obliging landlord in Maine informed me that he had just been 

 fined heavily, and even narrowly escaped several months' im- 

 prisonment, on account of several bottles of brandy having 

 been discovered in sacks of flour he had imported from the 

 British provinces. Of course he knew nothing about them — 

 how could he ? He had no licence ! At length dinner came, 

 but no beer, and only tea, tea, tea ! It was in vain we tried to 

 insinuate ourselves into the good graces of the host. He was 

 obdurate ; in fact, there was a general suspicion that we might 

 be persons in authority pretending to have come over the 

 border ; so it was " pot-luck " or nothing. At length tobacco, 

 that grand substitute for strong liquids, asserted its sway. We 

 all got talkative, and from that became confidential. At last 

 mine host disappeared, and I was preparing for bed, when a 

 small boy coming up to me requested that I should follow him. 

 So, from room to room, down several steps into a dark cellar, 

 through another into total darkness, when a door opened, 

 and behind a small bin, like a ticket-seller's box, was seated 

 the landlord, with a bottle of Bass's ale in one hand and a 

 pewter mug in the other. We refresh ourselves, the bottles 

 are restored to a hiding-place, and mum is the countersign as 

 we shut the little doors and hasten into daylight, and rejoin 

 our companions as if nothing had happened. It is perfect 



* A vile concoction called whisky, but pure fire water. I have seen 

 soldiers under its influence exhibiting symptoms of furious mania. 



