“No, sir, I am not; I am an Englishman from Durham, which is the best county in England.”
“So it is,” said I—“for some things at any rate. For example, where do you find such beef as in Durham?”
“Ah, where indeed, sir? I have always said that neither the Devonshire nor the Lincolnshire beef is to be named in the same day with that of Durham.”
“Well,” said I, “what business do you follow in these parts? I suppose you farm?”
“No, sir, I do not; I am what they call a mining captain.”
“I suppose that gentleman,” said I, motioning to the man in the leather hat, “is not from Durham?”
“No, sir, he is not; he is from this neighbourhood.”
“And does he follow mining?”
“No, sir, he does not; he carries about the letters.”
“Is your mine near this place?”