Something must come of it, if he doesn't burst.

Good heavens! I hope he has no apoplectic tendencies.

Yes, here it comes, sure enough, a gruesome sound between a moan and a roar, and spreads itself away over the valley, and up the hillside, and into the woods at the back of the house, a ghost-like, awful voice.

"Um do say, sir," says mine host, rising purple-faced, while the moan is still coming out of the Stwun, "as they used in old times to warn the country-side by blawing the Stwun when the enemy was a-comin', and as how folks could make un heered then for seven mile round; leastways, so I've heered Lawyer Smith say, and he knows a smart sight about them old times." We can hardly swallow Lawyer Smith's seven miles; but could the blowing of the stone have been a summons, a sort of sending the fiery cross round the neighbourhood in the old times?
What old times?
Who knows?
We pay for our beer, and are thankful.
"And what's the name of the village just below, landlord ?" "Kingstone Lisle, sir." "Fine plantations you've got here ?" "Yes, sir; the Squire's 'mazing fond of trees and such like." "No wonder.

He's got some real beauties to be fond of.