for that, master?"

"A quart for what, you vagabond? A quart because I've done myself up in
heaps; a quart because I'm fit to pull myself into fiddlestrings?"

"No," said the ostler; "because I've just put up the gentleman's horse."

"What gentleman's horse?"

"Why, the big-looking fellow with the white face, now in the parlour."

"What, did he come on a horse, Sam? What sort of a looking creature is
it? you may judge of a man from the sort of horse-company he keeps."

"Well, then, sir, I hardly know. It's coal black, and looks as knowing
as possible; it's tried twice to get a kick at me, but I was down upon
him, and put the bucket in his way. Howsomdever, I don't think it's a
bad animal, as a animal, mind you, sir, though a little bit wicious or
so."

"Well," said the publican, as he drew the ostler half a pint instead of
a quart, "you're always drinking; take that."

"Blow me," said the ostler, "half a pint, master!"

"Plague take you, I can't stand parleying with you, there's the parlour
bell; perhaps, after all, he will have some breakfast."

While the landlord was away the ostler helped himself to a quart of the
strongest ale, which, by a singular faculty that he had acquired, he
poured down his throat without any effort at swallowing, holding his
head back, and the jug at a little distance from his mouth.

Having accomplished this feat, he reversed the jug, giving it a knowing
tap with his knuckles as though he would have signified to all the world
that it was empty, and that he had accomplished what he desired.

In the meantime, the landlord had made his way to his strange guest, who
said to him, when he came into the room,

"Is there not one Sir Francis Varney residing in this town?"

"The devil!" thought the landlord; "this is another of them, I'll bet a
guinea. Sir Francis Varney, sir, did you say? Why, sir, there was a Sir
Francis Varney, but folks seem to think as how he's no better than he
should be--a sort of vampyre, sir, if you know what that is."

"I have, certainly, heard of such things; but can you not tell me
Varney's address? I wish to see him."

"Well, then, sir, I cannot tell it to you, for there's really been such
a commotion and such a riot about him that he's taken himself off, I
think, altogether, and we can hear nothing of him. Lord bless you, sir,
they burnt down his house, and hunted him about so, that I don't think
that he'll ever show his face here again."

"And cannot