THE PORTREEVE'S GAUDY-DAY
I—The Preparation
IN THE midst of the journey of my mortal life, I sent one day letters to three friends of mine, asking them to come to me at Clemendy, and make merry with me for a little while; ere the honeysuckle and the roses had fallen to earth once more. For it must be understood that I had been taking a dip into the Devil's Bath; and being recovered was willing to celebrate my happy case in some fitting and joyful manner. I know not whether any of you who may read the Silurian Mythologies have ever had a plunge into this same Balneum Diaboli; but if not let me tell you 'tis a mighty hot fountain; and yet has lumps of ice floating in it that freeze the heart while the head's on fire. In fine 'tis a bath to be remembered all the days of a man's life, a bath held in especial abhorrence by Silurists, because, whenas they are in it, they laugh little, drink less, and will scarce say "thank you" if a pretty lass beckon with her finger, and pout her lips into shapes never so enticing. And, as it is well known in what esteem Love, Ale, and Laughter are held by the good folk of Gwent, you may conceive how sorely sick
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