_Dennis._ We had as a neat a big bottle of brandy, a week ago--and damn the drop's left. But I say nothing--she's my wife, poor creature! and she can tell who drank it. Would'nt you like a sup of sour--I mean, of our strong beer? _Pereg._ Pshaw! no matter what. Tell me, is a person of the name of Thornberry still living in Penzance? _Dennis._ Is it one Mr. Thornberry you are asking after? _Pereg._ Yes. When I first saw him (indeed, it was the first time and the last), he had just begun to adventure humbly in trade. His stock was very slender, but his neighbours accounted him a kindly man--and I know they spoke the truth. Thirty years ago, after half an hour's intercourse, which proved to me his benevolent nature, I squeezed his hand, and parted. _Dennis._ Thirty years! 'Faith, after half an hour's dish of talk, that's a reasonable long time to remember! _Pereg._ Not at all; for he did me a genuine service; and gratitude writes the records in the heart, that, till it ceases to beat, they may live in the memory. _Enter MRS. BRULGRUDDERY, with a Mug of Beer._ _Mrs. Brul._ [_Apart to DENNIS._] What have you said about the brandy bottle? _Dennis._ [_Apart._] I told him you broke it, one day. _Mrs. Brul._ [_Apart._] Ah! I am always the shelter for your sins. _Dennis._ Hush!--[_To PERG._] You know, sir, I--hem!--I mention'd to you poor Mrs. Brulgruddery's misfortune. _Pereg._ Ha, ha! you did indeed, friend. _Mrs. Brul._ I am very sorry, sir, but-- _Dennis._ Be asy, my lambkin! the jontleman excuses it. You are not the first that has crack'd a bottle, you know.--Here's your beer, sir. [_Taking it from his Wife._] I'm not of a blushing nation, or I'd be shame-faced to give it him.--[_Aside._] My jewel, the jontleman was asking after one Mr. Thornberry. [_Delaying to give the Beer._ _Mrs. Brul._ What! old Job Thornberry of Penzance, sir? _Pereg._ The very same. You know him, then? _Mrs. Brul._ Very well, by hearsay, sir. He has lived there upwards of thirty years. A very thriving man now, and well to do in the world;--as others might be, too, if they would but follow my advice. [_To DENNIS._ _Pereg._ I rejoice to hear it. Give me the beer, Landlord; I'll drink his health in humble malt, then hasten to visit him. _Dennis. [Aside._] By St. Patrick, then, you'll make wry faces on the road. [_Gives him the mug._ [_As PEREGRINE is about to drink, a Shriek is heard at a small Distance._ _Pereg._ Ha! the voice of a female in distress? Then 'tis a man's business to fly to her protection. [_Dashes the Mug on the Ground. Exit._ _Mrs. Brul._ Wheugh! what a whirligigg! Why, Dennis, the man's mad! _Dennis._ I think that thing. _Mrs. Brul._ He has thrown down all the beer, before he tasted a drop.