At last both got up
and left the room, the landlord finishing his glass of whiskey and
water before he went away.
"So you are going to the Devil's Bridge, sir!" said an elderly man,
dressed in a grey coat, with a broad-brimmed hat, who sat on the
settle smoking a pipe in company with another elderly man with a
leather hat, with whom I had heard him discourse sometimes in
Welsh, sometimes in English, the Welsh which he spoke being rather
broken.
"Yes," said I, "I am going to have a sight of the bridge and the
neighbouring scenery."
"Well, sir, I don't think you will be disappointed, for both are
wonderful."
"Are you a Welshman?" said I.
"No, sir, I am not; I am an Englishman from Durham, which is the
best county in England."
"So it is," said I - "for some things at any rate. For example,
where do you find such beef as in Durham?"
"Ah, where indeed, sir? I have always said that neither the
Devonshire nor the Lincolnshire beef is to be named in the same day
with that of Durham."
"Well," said I, "what business do you follow in these parts? I
suppose you farm?"
"No, sir, I do not; I am what they call a mining captain."
"I suppose that gentleman," said I, motioning to the man in the
leather hat, "is not from Durham?"
"No, sir, he is not; he is from this neighbourhood.
Pages:
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707