ot too freely, and I hate
breakages; because why? I keeps a decent kind of an establishment."

CHAPTER LXXXIX

The Dingle--Give them Ale--Not over Complimentary--America--Many
People--Washington--Promiscuous Company--Language of the Roads--The Old
Women--Numerals--The Man in Black.

The public-house where the scenes which I have attempted to describe in
the preceding chapters took place, was at the distance of about two miles
from the dingle. The sun was sinking in the west by the time I returned
to the latter spot. I found Belle seated by a fire, over which her
kettle was suspended. During my absence she had prepared herself a kind
of tent, consisting of large hoops covered over with tarpaulin, quite
impenetrable to rain, however violent. "I am glad you are returned,"
said she, as soon as she perceived me; "I began to be anxious about you.
Did you take my advice?"

"Yes," said I; "I went to the public-house and drank ale, as you advised
me; it cheered, strengthened, and drove away the horror from my mind--I
am much beholden to you."

"I knew it would do you good," said Belle, "I remembered that when the
poor women in the great house were afflicted with hysterics, and fearful
imaginings, the surgeon, who was a good, kind man, used to say, 'Ale,
give them ale, and let it be strong.'"

"He was no advocate for tea, then?" said I.

"He had no objection to tea; but he used to say, 'Everything in its
season.' Shall we take ours now?--I have waited for you."

"I have no objection," said I; "I feel rather heated, and at present
should prefer tea to ale--'Everything in its season,' as the surgeon
said."

Thereupon Belle prepared tea, and, as we were taking it, she said, "What
did you see and hear at the public-house?"

"Really," said I, "you appear to have your full portion of curiosity;
what matters it to you what I saw and heard at the public-house?"

"It matters very little to me," said Belle; "I merely inquired of you,
for the sake of a little conversation--you were silent, and it is
uncomfortable for two people to sit together without opening their
lips--at least I think so."

"One only feels uncomfortable," said I, "in being silent, when one
happens to be thinking of the individual with whom one is in company. To
tell you the truth, I was not thinking of my companion, but of certain
company with whom I had been at the public-house."

"Really, young man," said Belle, "you are not over complime