"Then they went into more great halls, and up more stairs, and on to the roof, and saw more piles of sacks, more malt, and more hops. When they smelt the hops, it seemed as if their throats were tightened; when they smelt the fermentation, it seemed as if they were smelling fusel oil; when they smelt the plain crushed malt, it seemed as if they were getting swiftly, but sleepily, drunk. Everywhere and always the steam rolled backwards and forwards, and the grinding of the machinery went on, and the roaring of the furnaces; and the men went about to and fro at their work. They did not seem hard worked, nor were they pressed; their movements were leisurely, as if beer was not a thing to hurry; they were all rather pale of cheek, but fat and jolly, as if the beer was good and agreed with them. Some wore brown-paper caps, for it was a pretty draughty place; some went bareheaded, some wore the little round hat in fashion. And they went to another part, where men were rolling barrels about, as if they had been skittles, and here they saw vats holding three thousand barrels; and one thought of giant armies--say two hundred and fifty thousand thirsty Germans--beginning the Loot of London with one of these royal vats. And they went through stables, where hundreds of horses were stalled at nights, each as big as an elephant, and much more useful. . . . . . . . . . . "In one great room, where there was the biggest vat of all, a man brought them beer to taste; it was Messenger's Stout. Angela took her glass and put it to her lips with a strange emotion--she felt as if she would like a quiet place to sit down in and cry. The great place was hers--all hers--and this was the beer with which her mighty fortune had been made. "'Is it?' she asked, looking at the heavy foam of the frothing stout; 'is this Messenger's Entire?' [Illustration: THE BREWERY (This photograph was taken during the year 1912. Frederick Charrington is the centre of the three small figures below) [_To face p. 10._]