“Oh! beg pardon, Sir, I’m sure,” said Joe, staring; “I didn’t know that Dick had any acquaintance down in these parts. Then,” said he to me, “I shall take my snack with the rest presently; you’ll see me about somewhere, when it’s time to get back.” Joe went back into the crowd, and I followed the old gentleman. We went into the booth, which was a very big one, made of strong, double sail-cloth, stretched over three rows of fir poles, the middle row being, I should say, sixteen or eighteen feet high. Just on our right, as we entered from the street, was the bar, which was made with a double row of eighteen-gallon casks, full of ale, along the top of which boards were laid, so as to make a counter. Behind the bar the landlord and landlady, and a barmaid, were working away, and getting every thing into order. There were more rows of large casks, marked XX and XXX, ranged upon one another against the side of the booth, and small casks of spirits hooped with bright copper, and cigar boxes, and a table covered with great joints of beef and pork, and crockery and knives and forks, and baskets full of loaves of bread, and lettuces and potatoes. It must have cost a deal of money to get it all up the hill, and set the booth up. Beyond the bar was a sort of inner room, partly screened from the rest of the booth by a piece of sail-cloth, where a long table was laid out for luncheon, or “nunching,” as the boots, who was doing waiter for the occasion, called it. The rest of the booth, except a space before the bar which was kept clear for casual customers to stand about in, was set about with rough tables and forms. We got a capital dinner; for the landlord knew my entertainer, and was very civil, and brought us our ale himself and poured it out, making an apology because it hadn’t had quite time to fine down, but it would be as clear as a diamond, he said, if we would please to call in to-morrow. After we had done, we went round behind the booth, where some rough planking had been put up to serve for stalls, and the boots, in his waiter’s jacket, brought out the old gentleman’s cob. “Peter,” said he, when he had mounted, “here is sixpence for you; and now mind what you are at, and don’t get drunk and disgrace yourself up on the hill.” Peter, who seemed to be very much afraid of the old gentleman, kept pulling away at his forelock, and hunching up his shoulders, till we turned the corner of the booth. “Now I must be riding home,” said my friend, “but if you like just to walk round with me, I will show you the site of the battle.” So I thanked him, and walked along by the side of his cob, and he rode out of the entrance we had come in by, and then round the outer earthwork of the castle. As we passed along, the inner bank rose high up on our right hand, and we could just see the tops of the highest booths above it.