There was running up and down stairs, and along galleries, slamming
of doors, cries of "Coming, sir," and "Please to step this way,
ma'am," during eighteen hours of the four-and-twenty. Truly a very
great place for life and bustle was this inn. And often in after
life, when lonely and melancholy, I have called up the time I spent
there, and never failed to become cheerful from the recollection.
I found the master of the house a very kind and civil person.
Before being an inn-keeper he had been in some other line of
business; but on the death of the former proprietor of the inn had
married his widow, who was still alive, but, being somewhat infirm,
lived in a retired part of the house. I have said that he was kind
and civil; he was, however, not one of those people who suffer
themselves to be made fools of by anybody; he knew his customers,
and had a calm, clear eye, which would look through a man without
seeming to do so. The accommodation of his house was of the very
best description; his wines were good, his viands equally so, and
his charges not immoderate; though he very properly took care of
himself. He was no vulgar inn-keeper, had a host of friends, and
deserved them all. During the time I lived with him, he was
presented by a large assemblage of his friends and customers with a
dinner at his own house, which was very costly, and at which the
best of wines were sported, and after the dinner with a piece of
plate estimated at fifty guineas.
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