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pretty nigh from morning to night； and when he’s got to th’ end on
’t he’s more addle…headed than he was at the beginning。 He’s full
o’ this peace now； as they talk on； he’s been reading and reading；
and thinks he’s got to the bottom on’t。 ‘Why； Lor’ bless you； Mills；’
says I； ‘you see no more into this thing nor you can see into the
middle of a potato。 I’ll tell you what it is： you think it’ll be a fine
thing for the country。 And I’m not again’ it—mark my words—I’m
not again’ it。 But it’s my opinion as there’s them at the head o’ this
country as are worse enemies to us nor Bony and all the
mounseers he’s got at ’s back； for as for the mounseers； you may
skewer half…a…dozen of ’em at once as if they war frogs。’”
“Aye； aye；” said Martin Poyser； listening with an air of much
intelligence and edification； “they ne’er ate a bit o’ beef i’ their
lives。 Mostly sallet； I reckon。”
“And says I to Mills；” continued Mr。 Craig； “‘Will you try to
make me believe as furriners like them can do us half th’ harm
them ministers do with their bad government？ If King George ’ud
turn ’em all away and govern by himself； he’d see everything
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righted。 He might take on Billy Pitt again if he liked； but I don’t
see myself what we want wi’ anybody besides King and
Parliament。 It’s that nest o’ ministers does the mischief； I tell
you。’”
“Ah； it’s fine talking；” observed Mrs。 Poyser； who was now
seated near her husband； with Totty on her lap—“it’s fine talking。
It’s hard work to tell which is Old Harry when everybody’s got
boots on。”
“As for this peace；” said Mr。 Poyser； turning his head on one
side in a dubitative manner and giving a precautionary puff to his
pipe between each sentence； “I don’t know。 Th’ war’s a fine thing
for the country； an’ how’ll you keep up prices wi’out it？ An’ them
French are a wicked sort o’ folks； by what I can make out。 What
can you do better nor fight ’em？”
“Ye’re partly right there； Poyser；” said Mr。 Craig； “but I’m not
again’ the peace—to make a holiday for a bit。 We can break it
when we like； an’ I’m in no fear o’ Bony； for all they talk so much o’
his cliverness。 That’s what I says to Mills this morning。 Lor’ bless
you； he sees no more through Bony！ 。 。 。 why； I put him up to more
in three minutes than he gets from ’s paper all the year round。
Says I； ‘Am I a gardener as knows his business； or arn’t I； Mills？
Answer me that。’ ‘To be sure y’ are； Craig；’ says he—he’s not a bad
fellow； Mills isn’t； for a butler； but weak i’ the head。 ‘Well；’ says I；
‘you talk o’ Bony’s cliverness； would it be any use my being a first…
rate gardener if I’d got nought but a quagmire to work on？’ ‘No；’
says he。 ‘Well；’ I says； ’that’s just what it is wi’ Bony。 I’ll not deny
but he may be a bit cliver—he’s no Frenchman born； as I
understand—but what’s he got at’s back but mounseers？’”
Mr。 Craig paused a moment with an emphatic stare after this
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triumphant specimen of Socratic argument； and then added；
thumping the table rather fiercely； “Why； it’s a sure thing—and
there’s them ’ull bear witness to’t—as i’ one regiment where there
was one man a…missing； they put the regimentals on a big monkey；
and they fit him as the shell fits the walnut； and you couldn’t tell
the monkey from the mounseers！”
“Ah！ Think o’ that； now！” said Mr。 Poyser； impressed at once
with the political bearings of the fact and with its striking interest
as an anecdote in natural history。
“Come； Craig；” said Adam； “that’s a little too strong。 You don’t
believe that。 It’s all nonsense about the French being such poor
sticks。 Mr。 Irwine’s seen ’em in their own country； and he says
they’ve plenty o’ fine fellows among ’em。 And as for knowledge；
and contrivances； and manufactures； there’s a many things as
we’re a fine sight behind ’em in。 It’s poor foolishness to run down
your enemies。 Why； Nelson and the rest of ’em ’ud have no merit i’
beating ’em； if they were such offal as folks pretend。”
Mr。 Poyser looked doubtfully at Mr。 Craig； puzzled by this
opposition of authorities。 Mr。 Irwine’s testimony was not to be
disputed； but； on the other hand； Craig was a knowing fellow； and
his view was less startling。 Martin had never “heard tell” of the
French being good for much。 Mr。 Craig had found no answer but
such as was implied in taking a long draught of ale and then
looking down fixedly at the proportions of his own leg； which he
turned a little outward for that purpose； when Bartle Massey
returned from the fireplace； where he had been smoking his first
pipe in quiet； and broke the silence by saying； as he thrust his
forefinger into the canister； “Why； Adam； how happened you not
to be at church on Sunday？ Answer me that； you rascal。 The
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anthem went limping without you。 Are you going to disgrace your
schoolmaster in his old age？”
“No； Mr。 Massey；” said Adam。 “Mr。 and Mrs。 Poyser can tell
you where I was。 I was in no bad company。”
“She’s gone； Adam—gone to Snowfield；” said Mr。 Poyser；
reminded of Dinah for the first time this evening。 “I thought you’d
ha’ persuaded her better。 Nought ’ud hold her； but she must go
yesterday forenoon。 The missis has hardly got over it。 I thought
she’d ha’ no sperrit for th’ harvest supper。”
Mrs。 Poyser had thought of Dinah several times since Adam
had come in； but she had