“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 daresay; 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; “O 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.” [{117}]