"It is not very convenient for me to take you in," she said. day is probably distant, but even upon guardians of the little wayside public that hypothesis the struggle for exist-house. ence would still be with us, and there would be the same necessity for preserving the fittest and suppressing, as gently as might be, those who were unfit. LESLIE STEPHEN. From Blackwood's Magazine. AT THE GREEN DRAGON: AN EPISODE. CHAPTER I. HIERONYMUS COMES. It was a pouring September evening when a stranger knocked at the door of the Crown Inn. Old Mrs. Howells saw that he carried a portmanteau in his hand. "If it's a bedroom you want," she said, “I can't be bothered with you. What with brewing the beer and cleaning the brass, I've more than I can manage. I'm that tired!" "And so am I," said the stranger pathetically. "Go over the way to the Green Dragon," suggested Mrs. Howells. "Mrs. Benbow may be able to put you up. But what with the brewing and the cleaning, I can't do with you.' "And it would not be very convenient for me to be shut out," he replied. "Besides which, I have had a whiff of that hot beer." At that moment a voice from the kitchen cried impatiently: "Here, missus! where be that beer of your'n? I be feeling quite faint like!" "As though he could call out like that if he was faint!" laughed Mrs. Benbow, running off into the kitchen. When she returned, she found the stranger seated at the foot of the staircase. "And what do you propose to do for me?" he asked patiently. There was no mistaking the genial manner. Mrs. Benbow was conquered. "I propose to fry some eggs and bacon for your supper," she said cheerily. "And then I propose to make your bedroom ready." "Sensible woman!" he said, as he followed her into the parlor, where a fire was burning brightly. He threw himself into the easy-chair, and immediately experienced that sensation of repose and thankfulness which comes over us when we have found a haven. There he rested, content with himself and his surroundings. The fire lit up his face, and showed him to be a man The stranger stepped across the road to the Green Dragon. He tapped at the door; and a cheery little woman made her appearance. She was carry-of about forty years. ing what they call in Shropshire a devil of hot beer. It smelt good. "Good-evening, ma'am," said the stranger. "Can you house me for the night? The hostess of the Crown Inn has turned me away. But you surely will not do the same? You observe what a bad cold I have." There was nothing specially remarkable about him. The face in repose was sad and thoughtful; and yet when he discovered a yellow cat sleeping under the table, he smiled as though some great pleasure had come into his life. "Come along, little comrade!" he said, as he captured her. She looked Mrs. Benbow glanced sharply at the up into his face so frankly, that the stranger. She had not kept the Green stranger was much impressed. “Why, Dragon for ten years without learning I do believe you are a dog undergoto judge somewhat of character; and ing a cat incarnation," he continued. to-night she was particularly on her "What qualities did you lack when you guard, for her husband had gone to stay were a dog, I wonder? Perhaps you for two days with some relative in did not steal sufficiently well; perhaps Shrewsbury, so that Mrs. Benbow and you had not cultivated restfulness. old John of the wooden leg, called And your name? Your name shall be Dot and carry one, were left as sole Gamboge. I think that is a suitable appellation for you,- certainly more | mured the stranger, becoming drowsy suitable than most of the names thrust once more. "Only I wish they'd kept upon unoffending humanity. My own their determinations to themselves." name, for instance, Hieronymus! Ah, you may well mew! You are a thoroughly sensible creature." So he amused himself until Mrs. Benbow came with his supper. Then he pointed to the cat, and said quietly: "That is a very companionable dog of yours." Mrs. Benbow darted a look of suspicion at the stranger. "We call that a cat in Shropshire," she said, beginning to regret that she had agreed to house the stranger. "Well, no doubt you are partially right," said the stranger solemnly; "but, at the same time, you are partially wrong. To use the language of the Theosophists" Mrs. Benbow interrupted him. "Eat your supper whilst it is hot," she said, "then perhaps you'll feel better. Your cold is rather heavy in your head, isn't it?" The third time he was disturbed by. the sound of angry voices. There was some quarrelling going on in the kitchen of the Green Dragon. The voices became louder. There was a clatter of stools and a crash of glasses. "You're a pack of lying gipsies!" sang out some one. "You know well you didn't pay the missus ! " "Go for him! go for him!" was the Then the parlor door was flung open, and Mrs. Benbow rushed in. "Oh, she cried, "these gipsy men are killing the carpenter!" Hieronymus Howard rushed into the kitchen, and threw himself into the midst of the contest. Three powerful tramps were kicking a figure prostrate on the ground. One other man, Mr. Greaves, the blacksmith, was trying in vain to defend his comrade. He had no chance against these gipsy fellows, and though he fought like a lion, his strength was, of course, nothing against He laughed good-temperedly, and smiled at her as though to reassure her that he was quite in his right senses; theirs. Old John of the one leg had and then, without further discussion, he began to make short work of the fried eggs and bacon. Gamboge, sitting quietly by the fireside, scorned to beg; she preferred to steal. That is a way some people have. The stranger finished his supper, and lit his pipe. Once or twice he began to doze. The first time he was aroused by Gamboge, who had jumped on to the table, and was seeking what she might devour. "Ah, Gamboge," he said sleepily, "I am sorry, I have not left anything appetizing for you. I was so hungry. Pray excuse." Then he dozed off again. The second time he was aroused by the sound of singing. He caught the words of the chorus: I'll gaily sing from day to day, If sorrows meet me on the way, "An excellent resolution," been knocked over, and was picking But they had bolted one gipsy in with them. When they returned to enough for ye," she would say; the kitchen, they found him waiting for them. He had recovered himself. Mrs. Benbow raised a cry of terror. She had thought herself safe in her little castle. The carpenter and the blacksmith were past fighting. Hieronymus Howard gazed placidly at the great tramp. "I am sorry we had forgotten you," he said courteously. "Perhaps you will oblige us by following your comrades. I will open the door for you. I think we are all rather tired aren't we? So perhaps you will go at once.' The man gazed sheepishly at him, and then followed him. Hieronymus Howard opened the door. "Good-evening to you," he said. And the gipsy passed out without a word. "Well, now," said Hieronymus, as he drew the bolt, "that is the end of that." Then he hastened into the parlor. Mrs. Benbow hurried after him, and was just in time to break his fall. He had swooned away. CHAPTER II. HIERONYMUS STAYS. "not another glass to-night. No, no, John Curtis; get you gone home. You'll not coax another half-pint out of me." She was generally obeyed; even Hieronymus Howard, who refused rather peevishly to take a third cup of beeftea, found himself obliged to comply. When she told him to lie on the sofa, he did so without a murmur. When she told him to get up and take his dinner whilst it was still hot, he obeyed like a well-trained child. She cut his food, and then took the knife away. "You mustn't try to use your right hand," she said sternly. "Put it back in the sling at once." Hieronymus obeyed. Her kind tyranny pleased and amused him, and he was not at all sorry to go on staying at the Green Dragon. He was really on his way to visit some friends just on the border between Shropshire and Wales, to form one of a large houseparty, consisting of people both interesting and intellectual; qualities, by the way, not necessarily inseparable. But he was just at the time needing quiet of mind, and he promised himself some really peaceful hours in this little Shropshire village, with its hills, some HIERONYMUS HOWARD had only in- of them bare, and others girt with a tended to pass one night at the Green belt of trees, and the brook gurgling Dragon. But his sharp encounter with past the wayside inn. He was tired, the gipsies altered his plans. He was and here he would find rest. The only battered and bruised and thoroughly vexatious part was that he had hurt his shaken, and quite unable to do any-hand. But for this mishap, he would thing else except rest in the armchair have been quite content. and converse with Gamboge, who had attached herself to him, and evidently appreciated his companionship. right hand was badly sprained. Mrs. Benbow looked after him most tenderly, bemoaning all the time that he should be in such a plight because of her. There was nothing that she was not willing to do for him; it was a long time since Hieronymus Howard had been so petted and spoilt. Mrs. Benbow treated every one like a young child that needed to be taken care of. The very men who came to drink her famous ale were under her strict motherly authority. He told this to Mr. Benbow, who returned that afternoon, and who exHis pressed his regret at the whole occurrence. "There now, Mr. Andrew, that's "Oh, I am well satisfied here," said Hieronymus cheerily. "Your little wife is a capital hostess; somewhat of the tyrant, you know. Still, one likes that; until one gets to the fourth cup of beef-tea! And she is an excellent cook, and the Green Dragon is most comfortable. I've nothing to complain of except my hand. That is a nuisance, for I wanted to do some writing. I suppose there is no one here who could write for me.' "Well," said Mr. Benbow, "per She can do most haps the missus can. Mrs. Benbow, being consulted on this matter, confessed that she could not do much in that line. "I used to spell pretty well once," she said brightly; "but the brewing and the scouring and the looking after other things have knocked all that out of me." "You wrote to me finely when I was away," her husband said. He was a quiet fellow, and proud of his little wife, and he liked people to know how capable she was. "Ah, but you aren't over-particular, Ben, bless you," she answered, laughing, and running away to her many duties. Then she returned to tell Hieronymus that there was a splendid fire in the kitchen, and that he was to go and sit there. "I'm busy doing the washing in the back yard," she said. "Ben has gone to look after the sheep. Perhaps you'll give an eye to the door, and serve out the ale. It would help me mighty. I'm rather pressed for time to-day. We shall brew to-morrow, and I must get the washing done this afternoon." She took it for granted that he would obey, and of course he did. He transferred himself, his pipe, and his book to the front kitchen, and prepared for customers. Hieronymus Howard had once been an ambitious man, but never before had he been seized by such an overwhelming aspiration as now possessed him-to serve out the Green Dragon ale! "If only some one would come!" he said to himself scores of times. No one came. Hieronymus becoming impatient, sprang up from his chair and gazed anxiously out of the window, just in time to see three men stroll into the opposite inn. "Confound them!" he cried; "why don't they come here ?" The next moment, four riders stopped at the rival public house, and old Mrs. Howells hurried out to them, as though to prevent any possibility of them slipping across to the other side of the road. This was almost more than Hie ronymus could bear quietly. He could scarcely refrain from opening the Green Dragon door and advertising in a loud voice the manifold virtues of Mrs. Benbow's ale and spirits. But he recollected in time that even wayside inns have their fixed code of etiquette, and that nothing remained for him but to possess his soul in patience. He was rewarded; in a few minutes a procession of wagons filed slowly past the Green Dragon; he counted ten horses and five men. Would they stop? Hieronymus waited in breathless excitement. Yes, they did stop, and four of the drivers came into the kitchen. "Where is the fifth ?" asked Hieronymus sharply, having a keen eye to business. "He be minding the horses," they answered, looking at him curiously. But they seemed to take it for granted that he was there to serve them, and they leaned back luxuriously in the great oak settle, whilst Hieronymus poured out the beer, and received in exchange some grimy coppers. After they had gone, the fifth man came to have his share of the refreshment; and then followed a long pause, which seemed like whole centuries to Hieronymus. "It was during a lengthened period like this," he remarked to himself, as he paced up and down the kitchen,66 yes, it was during infinite time like this that the rugged rocks became waveworn pebbles!" Suddenly he heard the sound of a horse's feet. "It is a rider," he said. "I shall have to go out to him." He hastened to the door, and saw & young woman on a great white horse. She carried a market-basket on her arm. She wore no riding-habit, but was just dressed in the ordinary way. There was nothing picturesque about her appearance, but Hieronymus thought her face looked interesting. She glanced at him, as though she wondered what he could possibly be doing at the Green Dragon. you?" Well, and what may I do for he asked. He did not quite like to say, "What may I bring for you ? "" He left her to decide that matter. "I wanted to see Mrs. Benbow," she said. "She is busy doing the washing," he answered. "But I will go and tell her, if you will kindly detain any customer who may chance to pass by.", He hurried away, and came back with the answer that Mrs. Benbow would be out in a minute. "Thank you," the young woman said quietly. Then she added: "You have hurt your arm, I see." "Yes," he answered; "it is a great nuisance. I cannot write. I have been wondering whether I could get any one to write for me. Do you know of any one ?" "No," she said bitterly; 66 we don't write here. We make butter and cheese, and we fatten up our poultry, and then we go to market and sell our butter, cheese, and poultry." Well," said Hieronymus, "and why shouldn't you?" He looked up at her, and saw what a liscontented expression had come over her young face. She took no notice of his interrupion, but just switched the horse's ears with the end of her whip. "That is what we do year after year," she continued, "until I suppose we have become so dull that we don't care to do anything else. That is what we have come into the world for: to nake butter and cheese, and fatten up our poultry, and go to market." "Of course there is," she jerked out scornfully. "Yes, there is a difference," he continued placidly; "it is this: you will return without those eggs, but the poet will come back still carrying his poem in his breast-pocket!" Then he laughed at his own remark. "That is how things go in the great world, you know," he said. "Out in the great world there is an odd way of settling matters. Still they must be settled somehow or other." "Out in the world!" she exclaimed. "That is where I long to go." "Then why on earth don't you?" he replied. At that moment Mrs. Benbow came running out. "I am so sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Hammond," she said to the young girl; "but what with the washing and the making ready for the brewing tomorrow, I don't know where to turn." Then followed a series of messages to which Hieronymus paid no attention. And then Miss Hammond cracked her whip, waved her greetings with it, and the old white horse trotted away. "And who is the rider of the horse ?" asked Hieronymus. Oh, she is Farmer Hammond's But by that time the old white horse CHAPTER III. THE PRIMARY GLORY. "Yes," he answered cheerily," and we all have to do it in some form or >ther. We all go to market to sell our goods, whether they be brains, or pracical common sense (which often, you THE next day at the Green Dragon know, has nothing to do with brains), was a busy one. Mrs. and Mr. Benor butter or poultry. Now I don't bow were up betimes, banging casks know, of course, what you have in your about in the cellar. When Hieronymus basket; but supposing you have eggs, Howard came down to breakfast, he which you are taking to market. Well, found that they had brought three, ADI you are precisely in the same condition great barrels into the kitchen, and that is the poet who is on his way to a pub-one was already half full of some horisher's, carrying a new poem in his rible brown liquid, undergoing the breast-pocket. And yet there is a dif-process of fermentation. He felt himference.". self much aggrieved that he was unable 4310 LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXXIII. 12 |