Lavengro by George Borrow (read me a book txt) 📕

do ye see, he lost the battle, though I am free to confess that he was a better man than myself; indeed, the best man that ever fought in England; yet still I won the battle, as every customer of mine, and everybody within twelve miles round, has heard over and over again. Now, Mr. Hunter, I have one thing to say, if you choose to go into the field behind the house, and fight the young man, you can. I’ll back him for ten pounds; but no fighting in my kitchen⁠—because why? I keeps a decent kind of an establishment.”

“I have no wish to fight the young man,” said Hunter; “more especially as he has nothing to say for the aristocracy. If he chose to fight for them, indeed⁠—but he won’t, I know; for I see he’s a decent, respectable young man; and, after all, fighting is a blackguard way of settling a dispute; so I have no wish to fight; however, there is one thing I’ll do,” said he, uplifting his fist, “I’ll fight this fellow in black here for half a crown, or for nothing, if he pleases; it was he that got up the last dispute between me and the young man, with his Pope and his nonsense; so I will fight him for anything he pleases, and perhaps the young man will be my second; whilst you⁠—”

“Come, doctor,” said the landlord, “or whatsoever you be, will you go into the field with Hunter? I’ll second you, only you must back yourself. I’ll lay five pounds on Hunter, if you are inclined to back yourself; and will help you to win it as far, do you see, as a second can; because why? I always likes to do the fair thing.”

“Oh! I have no wish to fight,” said the man in black hastily; “fighting is not my trade. If I have given any offence, I beg anybody’s pardon.”

“Landlord,” said I, “what have I to pay?”

“Nothing at all,” said the landlord; “glad to see you. This is the first time that you have been at my house, and I never charge new customers, at least customers such as you, anything for the first draught. You’ll come again, I dare say; shall always be glad to see you. I won’t take it,” said he, as I put sixpence on the table; “I won’t take it.”

“Yes, you shall,” said I; “but not in payment for anything I have had myself: it shall serve to pay for a jug of ale for that gentleman,” said I, pointing to the simple-looking individual; “he is smoking a poor pipe. I do not mean to say that a pipe is a bad thing; but a pipe without ale, do you see⁠—”

“Bravo!” said the landlord, “that’s just the conduct I like.”

“Bravo!” said Hunter. “I shall be happy to drink with the young man whenever I meet him at New York, where, do you see, things are better managed than here.”

“If I have given offence to anybody,” said the man in black, “I repeat that I ask pardon⁠—more especially to the young gentleman, who was perfectly right to stand up for his religion, just as I⁠—not that I am of any particular religion, no more than this honest gentleman here,” bowing to Hunter; “but I happen to know something of the Catholics⁠—several excellent friends of mine are Catholics⁠—and of a surety the Catholic religion is an ancient religion, and a widely extended religion, though it certainly is not a universal religion, but it has of late made considerable progress, even amongst those nations who have been particularly opposed to it⁠—amongst the Prussians and the Dutch, for example, to say nothing of the English; and then, in the East, amongst the Persians, amongst the Armenians⁠—”

“The Armenians,” said I; “oh dear me, the Armenians⁠—”

“Have you anything to say about those people, sir?” said the man in black, lifting up his glass to his mouth.

“I have nothing further to say,” said I, “than that the roots of Ararat are occasionally found to be deeper than those of Rome.”

“There’s half a crown broke,” said the landlord, as the man in black let fall the glass, which was broken to pieces on the floor. “You will pay me the damage, friend, before you leave this kitchen. I like to see people drink freely in my kitchen, but not too freely, and I hate breakages; because why? I keeps a decent kind of an establishment.”

LXXXIX

The public-house where the scenes which I have attempted to describe in the preceding chapters took place, was at the distance of about two miles from the dingle. The sun was sinking in the west by the time I returned to the latter spot. I found Belle seated by a fire, over which her kettle was suspended. During my absence she had prepared herself a kind of tent, consisting of large hoops covered over with tarpaulin, quite impenetrable to rain, however violent. “I am glad you are returned,” said she, as soon as she perceived me; “I began to be anxious about you. Did you take my advice?”

“Yes,” said I; “I went to the public-house and drank ale as you advised me; it cheered, strengthened, and drove away the horror from my mind⁠—I am much beholden to you.”

“I knew it would do you good,” said Belle; “I remembered that when the poor women in the great house were afflicted with hysterics and fearful imaginings, the surgeon, who was a good, kind man, used to say: ‘Ale, give them ale, and let it be strong.’ ”

“He was no advocate for tea, then?” said I.

“He had no objection to tea; but he used to say, ‘Everything in its season.’ Shall we take ours now⁠—I have waited for you.”

“I have no objection,” said I; “I feel rather heated, and at present should prefer tea to ale⁠—‘Everything in its season,’ as the surgeon said.”

Thereupon Belle prepared tea, and, as we were taking it, she said: “What did you