THE MAN AT THE TOLL-BAR.
The greatest friend or enemy of John Pillings could hardly accuse him of being either an over-sociable or too-genial individual. In fact, he has earned throughout the length and breadth of the county the nickname of "Ould Sulky," and is perhaps better known by that sobriquet than by the more lawful patronymic bestowed upon him by his parents and his godfather and godmother at his baptism.
This being the case, it may fairly be said that Pillings has at last settled down into his proper place, and is one of the few instances of the "round man in a round hole." He has not always been at the toll-gate; on the contrary, his life has been somewhat varied, and he has experienced a good many of the ups and downs of the world.
He began by being "bound 'prentice" to a carpenter, but his temper was against him, and so when his time was up he took to the more active life of a sailor.
Here again his enemy found him out, and he said good-bye to his shipmates without much sorrow on their part. "'Bout as much use a-talking to him as a marlinspike. Mate yer calls him! Nasty sulky beggar! In everybody's mess and nobody's watch," was the general verdict of the men; so it was no wonder they were glad to see him go over the side.
For the second time Mr. Pillings was in want of a job, and on this occasion he took to butchering, which he thought might be more likely to agree with his temperament. But in about two months he quarrelled with his master, and after they had had it out in the slaughter-house Pillings found himself once more in the world with three half-crowns in his pocket, about ten pounds at the bank, and a pair of as beautiful black eyes as one would wish to see, to say nothing of a nose three times its proper size, and a good many teeth very shaky.
When he had got his countenance back to its pristine beauty he tried his hand at The Red Cow as barman, and, strange to say, he managed to get on in this capacity very well.