knew how to appreciate its excellences.

'Now THIS is the thing!' cried he, pouring out a glass of the same in a
long stream, skilfully directed from the jug to the tumbler, so as to
produce much foam without spilling a drop; and, having surveyed it for a
moment opposite the candle, he took a deep draught, and then smacked his
lips, drew a long breath, and refilled his glass, my mother looking on
with the greatest satisfaction.

'There's nothing like this, Mrs. Markham!' said he. 'I always maintain
that there's nothing to compare with your home-brewed ale.'

'I'm sure I'm glad you like it, sir. I always look after the brewing
myself, as well as the cheese and the butter--I like to have things well
done, while we're about it.'

'Quite right, Mrs. Markham!'

'But then, Mr. Millward, you don't think it wrong to take a little wine
now and then--or a little spirits either!' said my mother, as she handed
a smoking tumbler of gin-and-water to Mrs. Wilson, who affirmed that wine
sat heavy on her stomach, and whose son Robert was at that moment helping
himself to a pretty stiff glass of the same.

'By no means!' replied the oracle, with a Jove-like nod; 'these things
are all blessings and mercies, if we only knew how to make use of them.'

'But Mrs. Graham doesn't think so. You shall just hear now what she told
us the other day--I told her I'd tell you.'

And my mother favoured the company with a particular account of that
lady's mistaken ideas and conduct regarding the matter in hand,
concluding with, 'Now, don't you think it is wrong?'

'Wrong!' repeated the vicar, with more than common solemnity--'criminal,
I should say--criminal! Not only is it making a fool of the boy, but it
is despising the gifts of Providence, and teaching him to trample them
under his feet.'

He then entered more fully into the question, and explained at large the
folly and impiety of such a proceeding. My mother heard him with
profoundest reverence; and even Mrs. Wilson vouchsafed to rest her tongue
for a moment, and listen in silence, while she complacently sipped her
gin-and-water. Mr. Lawrence sat with his elbow on the table, carelessly
playing with his half-empty wine-glass, and covertly smiling to himself.

'But don't you think, Mr. Millward,' suggested he, when at length that
gentleman paused in his discourse, 'that when a child may be naturally
prone to intemperance--by the fault of its parents or ancestors, for
instance--some