“York! York!” was vociferated from different parts of the room, and to all of which the bite, or rather the bitten, answered, with good-humoured smiles. “He had just come in,” he said, “to see if his mate was come hyem yet; but as he had not, he thought he could guess right weel where he wad be, and wad just step o’er to Brown’s (the gin-shop) and see.”
Away he went, and, in about ten minutes time, a roaring, roistering party was heard coming to the door. York entered, his arms loaded with eggs and bacon, and a glass or two the merrier. A Deaf-Burke-made fellow, an Irishman, half labourer and half beggar, who went under the name of Harlequin, reeled by his side in a state of high elevation, with two or three hangers-on, that trod close to their heels. Harlequin, filled with drink and overflowing with vanity, overwhelmed every one with noise and kindness.
The plates, &c., were soon put in order, and York showed himself no despicable cook. He made the tea, fried the eggs and bacon, and as if not to be outdone in loving kindness by his mate, now loudly proclaimed, “that if ony man was in want of summat to eat, to come forward; for there was plenty for all.”
A man, who had been sleeping behind the table, roused himself up at the invitation, and expressed his willingness for a cup of tea.
“Nay, I’ll be —— if thou shall,” says York; “thou’s been drunk, man, fra night till morning, and fra morning till night, these three weeks; and I say that a man that can find money to drink, can find money to eat. To get drunk,” he said, turning to the company, “the matter of twice or thrice a week, is a thing that ony man is liable to, and I say that such a man is welcome to a cup of tea, and maybe summat to eat; but to be always drink, drinking, I say again, that a man who can find money to drink, can find money to eat, and so he shall not have a drop!”
During the latter part of this speech, the speaker’s looks were directed towards the company, to see if it met with their approbation. Some two or three there were who drawled out that “it was right;” but their assent seemed to be drawn from them, more in expectation of the good things that York was about to give away, than from any real coincidence with his opinion—even such cadging house morality as this, appeared to be too rigid for their notions of right and wrong. As for the man himself, whose drowsy and dissipated looks certainly presented the very picture of a sot, quietly swallowed the affront, and laid himself down again to sleep.
The Yorkshireman, however, had apparently set his own conscience to rest, and seemed to care very little about the tranquillity of the other. He handed a piece of bacon to one, and a cup of tea to another; then thrusting a rasher into his own mouth, much in the style of a terrier griping a rat, chewed, bolted, swallowed, and gorged, until he had completely stuffed the inward man.
There was a fine contrast of national character between the Yorkshireman and his mate. The Irishman was all puff, blarney, and brag, and all the time had been in a humour either to fight or to shake hands. Nothing would serve him but to play at cards with every one of the company, offering the most tremendous odds; but, fortunately for him, there was not another purse-proud man in the room but himself. One poor fellow in particular, on whom he fastened, and who distinctly stated that he had no money, or else he would hazard a game. But this only served to set the Hibernian’s froth in motion. He stormed, roused himself upon his legs, towered, and gave vent to a burst of blarney.
“Now, d—— it,” says York, “I dinna like that—I dinna like it at all; attack a man that has summat, I say, and not one that has nought, and then that will luck mair like a man!” And with such hearty John Bull notions as these did canny Yorkshire browbeat his crony of the sister kingdom.
Some remarks were now made upon York’s black eye, and various remedies proposed—such as the application of a piece of raw flesh, &c., to all of which the Bite did seriously incline, for, as he said, “It lucked scandalous-like to see a man with a black eye. But,” says he, “Mike O’Brady maybe thinks he got clear of that; but, ye hear me say, he’s mistaken? I was the other day at Epsom Races, and spent every ha’penny; and as I was coming off the course I met Tom ——, (a fellow, from whose appearance no one would suppose was worth twopence, but who, in reality, was a partner of one of those gambling-tables which are carried to fairs and races), and asked him for threepence to get a pint of yell. He pulled out ten shillings, and said I mot hae the loan of five pounds ony day; and when Doncaster races comes, I think I can raise other fifteen” (and to show this was no vaunt, thrust his hand into his bosom, and pulled out a handfull of the sinews of war—shillings and half-crowns), “that will be twenty, we’ll make a match on it;” and raising his fist and his voice together, “we will then see which is the best man.”