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Updated: May 15, 2025
Then, leading my companions into the yard, I pushed into the inn and, by good hap, lighted on the host, nearly out of his five wits with trying to understand one word of English in a score of Gaelic. "Hello, surry!" said I. "Gom!" said he, "Staffordsheer at last." "I've heard a lot about Leek ale," said I. "Draw me a mug of it!"
"But for my fears for my father I should even be happy, for it has never before been my lot, and I have wandered far and wide over half Europe, to experience such and so much kindness in one day from perfect strangers." "I am, indeed, happy in my mother and sister. They are pearls of great price." "None better in all Staffordsheer," said Joe.
'E started an inch off the table and ate till 'e touched, as we say in Staffordsheer, and then sent for 'is baggage, and 'as lain 'ere ever since in the great bedchamber over y'r yeds, an' I'm thinking to call it the Duke's Room an' charge sixpence extra for it. It's worth another sixpence to sleep in the same bed as a duke's slep' in. If it ain't, by gom, I'd like to know what he is for.
He brought it in a trice, and his face beamed with honest pride as he said, holding it up between my eyes and the light, "What do you think o' that for colour and nap? Damn my bones! None of your London rot-gut, master, but honest Staffordsheer ale. Damme, you can fairly chew the malt in it." "I'll bet you a guinea I've drunk better," said I, with the aleyard at my lips.
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