could afford to do so. The stigma of the geese episode was erased.

But the barmaid of the Tiger, as she let down her bright hair that night
in the attic of the Tiger, said to herself, 'Well, of all the----' Just
that.

* * * * *




THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH


It was Monday afternoon of Bursley Wakes--not our modern rectified
festival, but the wild and naïve orgy of seventy years ago, the days of
bear-baiting and of bull-baiting, from which latter phrase, they say,
the town derives its name. In those times there was a town-bull, a sort
of civic beast; and a certain notorious character kept a bear in his
pantry. The 'beating' (baiting) occurred usually on Sunday mornings at
six o'clock, with formidable hungry dogs; and little boys used to look
forward eagerly to the day when they would be old enough to be permitted
to attend. On Sunday afternoons colliers and potters, gathered round the
jawbone of a whale which then stood as a natural curiosity on the waste
space near the corn-mill, would discuss the fray, and make bets for next
Sunday, while the exhausted dogs licked their wounds, or died. During
the Wakes week bull and bear were baited at frequent intervals,
according to popular demand, for thousands of sportsmen from
neighbouring villages seized the opportunity of the fair to witness the
fine beatings for which Bursley was famous throughout the country of the