“A’n’t it,” said the landlord.  “Well, that a’n’t all; let me go on.  Good fortune never yet came alone.  In about an hour comes home my poor niece, almost in high sterricks with joy, smiling and sobbing.  She had been to the clergyman of M—–­, the great preacher, to whose church she was in the habit of going, and to whose daughters she was well known; and to him she told a lamentable tale about my distresses, and about the snares which had been laid for my soul; and so well did she plead my cause, and so strong did the young ladies back all she said, that the good clergyman promised to stand my friend, and to lend me sufficient money to satisfy the brewer, and to get my soul out of the snares of the man in black; and sure enough the next morning the two young ladies brought me the fifty pounds, which I forthwith carried to the brewer, who was monstrously civil, saying that he hoped any little misunderstanding we had had would not prevent our being good friends in future.  That a’n’t all; the people of the neighbouring county hearing as if by art witchcraft that I had licked Hunter, and was on good terms with the brewer, forthwith began to come in crowds to look at me, pay me homage, and be my customers.  Moreover, fifty scoundrels who owed me money, and would have seen me starve rather than help me as long as they considered me a down pin, remembered their debts, and came and paid me more than they owed.  That a’n’t all; the brewer being about to establish a stage-coach and three, to run across the country, says it shall stop and change horses at my house, and the passengers breakfast and sup as it goes and returns.  He wishes me—­whom he calls the best man in England—­to give his son lessons in boxing, which he says he considers a fine manly English art, and a great defence against Popery—­notwithstanding that only a month ago, when he considered me a down pin, he was in the habit of railing against it as a blackguard practice, and against me as a blackguard for following it; so I am going to commence with young hopeful to-morrow.”

“I really cannot help congratulating you on your good fortune,” said I.

“That a’n’t all,” said the landlord.  “This very morning the folks of our parish made me churchwarden, which they would no more have done a month ago, when they considered me a down pin, than they—­”

“Mercy upon us!” said I, “if fortune pours in upon you in this manner, who knows but that within a year they may make you a justice of the peace?”

“Who knows, indeed!” said the landlord.  “Well, I will prove myself worthy of my good luck by showing the grateful mind—­not to those who would be kind to me now, but to those who were, when the days were rather gloomy.  My customers shall have abundance of rough language, but I’ll knock any one down who says anything against the clergyman who lent me the fifty pounds, or against the Church of England, of which he is parson and I am churchwarden.