“Good day, Mrs. Johnson,” said Neale. “You are better off for a son than I am, after all. Yours is not such a fool as to go and get his leg shot off, like my precious son.” Mrs. Johnson looked him hard in the face, as she would a madman or a drunken man whom she meant to intimidate; and compelled her son to pass on. In truth, Farmer Neale was drunk with evil passions; in such high spirits, that, when he found that the women—mothers of sons—would have nothing to say to him to-day, he went to the public house, where he was pretty sure of being humoured by the men who depended on his employment for bread, and on his temper for much of the peace of their lives. On his way he met the clergyman, and proposed to him to make a merry evening of it. “If you will just step in at the Plough and Harrow, Sir,” said he, “and tell us all you have heard about the victory, it will be the finest thing—just what the men want. And we will drink your health, and the King’s, and Marshal Beresford’s, who won the victory. It is a fine occasion, Sir; an occasion to confirm the loyalty of the people. You will come with me, Sir?” “No,” replied Mr. Finch, “I have to go among another sort of people, Neale. If you have spirits to make merry to-night, I own to you I have not. Victories that cost so much, do not make me very merry.” “Oh, fie, Mr. Finch! How are we to keep up our character for loyalty, if you fail us—if you put on a black face in the hour of rejoicing?” “Just come with me,” said Mr. Finch, “and I can show you cause enough for heaviness of heart. In our small village, there is mourning in many houses. Three of our late neighbours are dead, and one of them in such a way as will break his mother’s heart.” “And another has lost a leg, you are thinking. Out with it, Sir, and don’t be afraid of my feelings about it. Well, it is certain that Bleaburn has suffered more than is the fair share of one place; but we must be loyal.” “And so,” said Mr. Finch, “you are going to prepare more of your neighbours to enlist, the next time a recruiting party comes this way. Oh, I don’t say that men are not to be encouraged to serve their king and country: but it seems to me that our place has done its duty well enough for the present. I wonder that you, as a farmer, do not consider the rates, and dread the consequences of having the women and children on our hands, if our able men get killed and maimed in the wars. I should have thought that the price of bread—” “There, now, don’t let us talk about that!” said Neale; “You know that is a subject that we never agree about. We will let alone the price of bread for to-day.”