“I hear you have Tennyson staying with you to-night?”
“Aye! That’s the man’s name. He telegraphed the day for rooms. Do ye ken him?”
“Know him! Why that’s Alfred Tennyson, the poet!”
“The poet! I’m wishin’ I had kent that!”
“Why?” asked the stranger. After a pause the answer came:
“He a poet! I’d ha’ seen him dommed before I had gied him ma best rooms!”
As he was reminiscent that night his anecdotes were mostly personal. Another was of a man of the lower class in the Isle of Wight, who spoke of him in early days:
“He, a great man! Why ’e only keeps one man-servant—an’ ’e don’t sleep in th’ ’ouse!”
Another was of a workman who was heard to say:
“Shakespeare an’ Tennyson! Well, I don’t think nothin’ of neither on ’em!”