“I am happy to hear it, sir. They have a right to be good, for Mrs. Burke sent her own cook to teach my wife to dress cutlets.”
“So the agent is a good agent, is he?”
“He is, thanks be to Heaven! And that’s what few can boast, especially when the landlord’s living over the seas: we have the luck to have got a good agent over us, in Mr. Burke, who is a right bred gentleman; a snug little property of his own, honestly made; with the good-will, and good wishes, and respect of all.”
“Does he live in the neighbourhood?”
“Just convanient.[5] At the end of the town; in the house on the hill as you passed, sir; to the left, with the trees about it, all of his own planting, grown too; for there’s a blessing on all he does, and he has done a deal.—There’s salad, sir, if you are partial to it. Very fine lettuce. Mrs. Burke sent us the plants herself.”
“Excellent salad! So this Mr. Burke has done a great deal, has he? In what way?”
“In every way, sir,—sure was not it he that had improved, and fostered, and made the town of Colambre?—no thanks to the proprietor, nor to the young man whose name it bears, neither!”
“Have you any porter, pray, sir?”
“We have, sir, as good, I hope, as you’d drink in London, for it’s the same you get there, I understand, from Cork. And I have some of my own brewing, which, they say, you could not tell the difference between it and Cork quality—if you’d be pleased to try.—Harry, the corkscrew.”
The porter of his own brewing was pronounced to be extremely good; and the landlord observed it was Mr. Burke encouraged him to learn to brew, and lent him his own brewer for a time to teach him.