“Forty years! why that’s the life of a man. That’s longer than I have been out of the county myself. I suppose your honour can’t remember much about the county.”
“O yes I can, I remember a good deal.”
“Please your honour tell me what you remember about the county. It would do me good to hear it.”
“Well, I remember it was a very fine county in more respects than one. One part of it was full of big hills and mountains, where there were mines of coal and lead with mighty works with tall chimneys spouting out black smoke, and engines roaring and big wheels going round, some turned by steam, and others by what they called forces, that is brooks of water dashing down steep channels. Another part was a more level country with beautiful woods, happy-looking farmhouses, well-filled fields and rich glorious meadows, in which stood stately with brown sides and short horns the Durham ox.”
“O dear, O dear!” said my companion. “Ah, I see your honour knows everything about Durham county. Forces! none but one who had been in Durham county would have used that word. I haven’t heard it for five-and-thirty years. Forces! there was a force close to my village. I wonder if your honour has ever been in Durham city.”
“O yes! I have been there.”
“Does your honour remember anything about Durham city?”
“O yes! I remember a good deal about it.”
“Then, your honour, pray tell us what you remember about it—pray do! perhaps it will do me good.”
“Well, then, I remember that it was a fine old city standing on a hill with a river running under it, and that it had a fine old church, one of the finest in the whole of Britain; likewise a fine old castle; and last, not least, a capital old inn, where I got a capital dinner off roast Durham beef, and a capital glass of ale, which I believe was the cause of my being ever after fond of ale.”