"It won't kindle--not a bit on't--it's green and full o' sap. Go out, and get us a log that's dry and old, George--and let's try to have a bit of a blaze in t'ould chimney, this bitter night," said Isaac Tonson, the gamekeeper at Yatton, to the good-natured landlord of the Aubrey Arms, the little--and only--inn of the village. The suggestion was instantly attended to. "How Peter's a-feathering of his geese to-night, to be sure!" exclaimed the landlord on his return, shaking the snow off his coat, and laying on the fire a great dry old log of wood, which seemed very acceptable to the hungry flames, for they licked it cordially the moment it was placed among them, and there was very soon given out a cheerful blaze. 'T was a snug room. The brick floor was covered with fresh sand; and on a few stools and benches, with a table in the middle, on which stood a large can and ale-glasses, with a plate of tobacco, sat some half-dozen men, enjoying their pipe and glass. In the chimney corner sat Thomas Dickons, the faithful under-bailiff of Mr. Aubrey, a big broad-shouldered, middle-aged man, with a hard-featured face and a phlegmatic air. In the opposite corner sat the little grizzle-headed clerk and sexton, old Hallelujah--(as he was called, but his real name was Jonas Higgs.) Beside him sat Pumpkin, the gardener at the Hall, a very frequent guest at the Aubrey Arms o' nights--always attended by Hector, the large Newfoundland dog already spoken of, and who was now lying stretched on the floor at Pumpkin's feet, his nose resting on his fore feet, and his eyes, with great gravity, watching the motions of a skittish kitten under the table. Opposite to him sat Tonson the gamekeeper--a thin, wiry, beetle-browed fellow, with eyes like a ferret; and there were also, one or two farmers, who lived in the village. "Let's ha' another can o' ale, afore ye sit down," said Tonson, "we can do with another half gallon, I'm thinking!" This order also was quickly attended to; and then the landlord, having seen to the door, fastened the shutters close, and stirred the crackling fire, took his place on a vacant stool, and resumed his pipe. "So she do take a very long grave, Jonas?" inquired Dickons of the sexton, after some little pause. "Ay, Mr. Dickons, a' think she do, t'ould girl! I always thought she would--I used to measure her (as one may say) in my mind, whenever I saw her! 'Tis a reg'lar _man's_ size, I warrant you; and when parson saw it, a' said, he thought 'twere too big; but I axed his pardon, and said I hadn't been sexton for thirty years without knowing my business--he, he!" "I suppose, Jonas, you mun ha' seen her walking about i' t' village, in your time!--_Were_ she such a big-looking woman?" inquired Pumpkin, as he shook the ashes out of his pipe, and replenished it. "Forty year ago I did use to see her--she were then an old woman, wi' white hair, and leaned on a stick--I never thought she'd a' lasted so long," replied Higgs, emptying his glass.