"Sphere of usefulness," Billy would respond. "What profession is more useful than that of the minstrel, or as people call me, the droll? I have brought happiness into cottage and hall and wiped the tears from sorrowing eyes with fun and laughter. I have made the youth's heart burn with high purpose to emulate the heroic deeds of old, and I have implanted thoughts of soberness in the giddy headed. What could be more useful? And could I have a happier occupation were I in the position of a servant? No, I prefer the old independent life of the droll; and as for my high education," Billy would always stop here, and with a funny twinkle in his eyes and dropping into the language of the country clout say, "I beant much of a scholard." "Well, Billy, give us a song," said the squire, seeing that the droll teller had become sufficiently thawed out to finger the harp. "Or a story," said a relative of the squire. "Tell us of the oxen kneeling on Christmas night," piped in a young, shrill, boyish voice. "Les have Duffy and The Devil," said one of the "curl" singers. "Or the Cornish Tale of King Arthur," said another. "Well, well, one at a time. Suppose I sing ye one of the old Christmas songs first," responded Uncle Billy, and tuning up his harp he swept with rapid, light fingers the opening bars of "The First Good News That Mary Had." This was followed by "I See Three Ships Come Sailing In," and was greeted with great applause at the close. The old butler brought in a steaming bowl of egg-nog punch which he placed on the table near the harper's chair; after refreshing himself the droll began the tale of Duffy and the Devil, telling it, as was his custom, partly in verse to the accompaniment of the harp, and partly in prose. THE TALE OF DUFFY AND THE DEVIL. An old bachelor squire of Cornubia's race Was the master of old Lovell Hall; He'd a jolly round face, and the fox he would trace Over moor and through dale in a glorious chase, But of women he would none at all. Cider making was nigh and in Buryan church town For more hands he was seeking one day; Words and blows did resound, and with her swing-tail gown, Old Janey was beating her stepdaughter around, In her cottage, that was by his way. "Hallo, what's the row," said the squire, as he dismounted and entered the cottage. Being a magistrate, he thought it was his duty to settle all quarrels, but he had scarcely got within when he was sorry he had meddled. Old Janey had been using the skirt of her gown to carry out the grate ashes, and beating Duffy, her stepdaughter, with the gown afterward; there was such a dust in the air that the squire went into a fit of coughing. "'Tis Duffy," said old Janey. "She can't knit nor spin and does nothing for her living. She's that lazy, your honour," and Janey, the dust settling a bit, dropped a curtesy to the squire.