grim-visaged region, has never been satisfactorily explained, but being once in it, and a publican by profession, it was necessary to conform to the habits and manners of those about him, unless he desired to see his license taken away, and himself a suspected person, as well as without employment.  These prudential considerations contending with Eleazar’s nature, had sobered the otherwise mirthful features of his face, and made him present the appearance of a merry and a sad man rolled into one, each striving for the mastery, and each alternately achieving victory, according to circumstances.  The merry man was safe in the presence of Arundel, and, therefore, his mouth dissolved into a pleasant chuckle as he welcomed him.

“It is a joy and an honor, Master Arundel,” he said, “to see again a discreet young gentleman like yourself, whose spirits—­ahem!—­are lively as my own ale, and yet chastised by a godly ’havior.  You must have had something of a walk this morning.  What refreshment may it please you to take?”

While uttering this speech, he had been busy ushering into the tap or common reception room the young man, who, by the time it was finished, was seated.

“Thy guess hits the mark, mine host,” he said? “but what is fitting I leave to thy discretion.  Thou shalt prescribe like a physician.”

“Thou art a sweet-tempered gentleman, and easily satisfied,” answered the host, “and I should be no better than a heathen salvage to abuse thy goodness.  To begin, I have some of the famosest malt liquor that ever ran down throat with a relish.”

“Avaunt, with thy detestable malt liquors.  You inveigled me once into tasting the decoction, and methinks that should satisfy thee, if not me.  Thou wilt hardly succeed a second time.  It will never do.  Thy cellar contains something better, to my knowledge.”

“As you say,” replied the landlord, (whose habit was to recommend his ale to those who he knew would not take it, in order, perhaps, to make his wines taste the better, by consideration of the contrast)—­“as you say, Master Arundel, my malt liquor, though the best in the country, is not for high-bred gentlemen like yourself.  I have Spanish wines, and French wines, and wines from Italy, and from the Canaries, and”—­

“Any will do,” said Arundel, knowing that a single kind was made to play the part of vintages from all parts of the world; “so be prompt, good man, for my thirst increases.”

While the publican, whose business was not sufficiently large to warrant him to employ a tapster, was absent, Arundel looked round the apartment to see what company was present.  At no great distance from where he sat were half-a-dozen persons, some of whom, by their dress, seemed to be sailors, and others citizens.  As he turned to look at them, two or three, who were his acquaintances, saluted him; and the conversation, which his entrance had a little interrupted, flowed again with a full current.