We went into the bar-room, where the landlord and I discussed between us two bottles of strong ale, which he said were part of the last six which he had in his possession.  At first he wished to drink sherry, but I begged him to do no such thing, telling him that the sherry would do him no good, under the present circumstances; nor, indeed, to the best of my belief under any, it being of all wines the one for which I entertained the most contempt.  The landlord allowed himself to be dissuaded, and, after a glass or two of ale, confessed that sherry was a sickly disagreeable drink, and that he had merely been in the habit of taking it from an idea he had that it was genteel.  Whilst quaffing our beverage, he gave me an account of the various mortifications to which he had of late been subject, dwelling with particular bitterness on the conduct of Hunter, who, he said, came every night and mouthed him, and afterwards went away without paying for what he had drank or smoked, in which conduct he was closely imitated by a clan of fellows who constantly attended him.  After spending several hours at the public-house I departed, not forgetting to pay for the two bottles of ale.  The landlord, before I went, shaking me by the hand, declared that he had now made up his mind to stick to his religion at all hazards, the more especially as he was convinced he should derive no good by giving it up. {337}

CHAPTER XXX.—­PREPARATIONS FOR THE FAIR—­THE LAST LESSON—­THE VERB SIRIEL.

It might be about five in the evening when I reached the gypsy encampment.  Here I found Mr. Petulengro, Tawno Chikno, Sylvester, and others, in a great bustle, clipping and trimming certain ponies and old horses which they had brought with them.  On inquiring of Jasper the reason of their being so engaged, he informed me that they were getting the horses ready for a fair, which was to be held on the morrow, at a place some miles distant, at which they should endeavour to dispose of them, adding—­“Perhaps, brother, you will go with us, provided you have nothing better to do?” Not having any particular engagement, I assured him that I should have great pleasure in being of the party.  It was agreed that we should start early on the following morning.  Thereupon I descended into the dingle.  Belle was sitting before the fire, at which the kettle was boiling.  “Were you waiting for me?” I inquired.  “Yes,” said Belle, “I thought that you would come, and I waited for you.”  “That was very kind,” said I.  “Not half so kind,” said she, “as it was of you to get everything ready for me in the dead of last night, when there was scarcely a chance of my coming.”  The tea-things were brought forward, and we sat down.  “Have you been far?” said Belle.  “Merely to that public-house,” said I, “to which you directed me on the second day of our acquaintance.”  “Young men should not make a habit of visiting public-houses,”