.

"The largest measure-full in your house," said I, putting back her hand
gently. "This is not the season for half-pint mugs."

"As you will, young man," said the landlady; and presently brought in an
earthen pitcher which might contain about three pints, and which foamed
and frothed withal.

"Will this pay for it?" said I, putting down sixpence.

"I have to return you a penny," said the landlady, putting her hand into
her pocket.

"I want no change," said I, flourishing my hand with an air.

"As you please, young gentleman," said the landlady, and then making a
kind of curtsey, she again retired to the side apartment.

"Here is your health, sir," said I to the grimy-looking man, as I raised
the pitcher to my lips.

The tinker, for such I supposed him to be, without altering his posture,
raised his eyes, looked at me for a moment, gave a slight nod, and then
once more fixed his eyes upon the table. I took a draught of the ale,
which I found excellent; "won't you drink?" said I, holding the pitcher
to the tinker.

The man again lifted his eyes, looked at me, and then at the pitcher, and
then at me again. I thought at one time that he was about to shake his
head in sign of refusal, but no, he looked once more at the pitcher, and
the temptation was too strong. Slowly removing his head from his arms,
he took the pitcher, sighed, nodded, and drank a tolerable quantity, and
then set the pitcher down before me upon the table.

"You had better mend your draught," said I to the tinker, "it is a sad
heart that never rejoices."

"That's true," said the tinker, and again raising the pitcher to his
lips, he mended his draught as I had bidden him, drinking a larger
quantity than before.

"Pass it to your wife," said I.

The poor woman took the pitcher from the man's hand; before, however,
raising it to her lips, she looked at the children. True mother's heart,
thought I to myself, and taking the half-pint mug, I made her fill it,
and then held it to the children, causing each to take a draught. The
woman wiped her eyes with the corner of her gown, before she raised the
pitcher and drank to my health.

In about five minutes none of the family looked half so disconsolate as
before, and the tinker and I were in deep discourse.

Oh, genial and gladdening is the power of good ale, the true and proper
drink of Englishmen. He is not deserving of the name of Englishman who
speaketh against ale, that is good ale, li