I was bidding him farewell, when he hemmed once or twice, and said, that as he did not live far off, he hoped that I would go with him and taste some of his mead.As I had never tasted mead, of which I had frequently read in the compositions of the Welsh bards, and, moreover, felt rather thirsty from the heat of the day, I told him that I should have great pleasure in attending him.Whereupon, turning off together, we proceeded about half a mile, sometimes between stone walls, and at other times hedges, till we reached a small hamlet, through which we passed, and presently came to a very pretty cottage, delightfully situated within a garden, surrounded by a hedge of woodbines.Opening a gate at one corner of the garden he led the way to a large shed, which stood partly behind the cottage, which he said was his stable; thereupon he dismounted and led his donkey into the shed, which was without stalls, but had a long rack and manger.On one side he tied his donkey, after taking off her caparisons, and I followed his example, tying my horse at the other side with a rope halter which he gave me; he then asked me to come in and taste his mead, but I told him that I must attend to the comfort of my horse first, and forthwith, taking a wisp of straw, rubbed him carefully down.Then taking a pailful of clear water which stood in the shed, Iallowed the horse to drink about half a pint; and then turning to the old man, who all the time had stood by looking at my proceedings, I asked him whether he had any oats? "Ihave all kinds of grain," he replied; and, going out, he presently returned with two measures, one a large and the other a small one, both filled with oats, mixed with a few beans, and handing the large one to me for the horse, he emptied the other before the donkey, who, before she began to despatch it, turned her nose to her master's face, and fairly kissed him.Having given my horse his portion, I told the old man that I was ready to taste his mead as soon as he pleased, whereupon he ushered me into his cottage, where, making me sit down by a deal table in a neatly sanded kitchen, he produced from an old-fashioned closet a bottle, holding about a quart, and a couple of cups, which might each contain about half a pint, then opening the bottle and filling the cups with a brown-coloured liquor, he handed one to me, and taking a seat opposite to me, he lifted the other, nodded, and saying to me - "Health and welcome," placed it to his lips and drank.
"Health and thanks," I replied; and being very thirsty, emptied my cup at a draught; I had scarcely done so, however, when I half repented.The mead was deliciously sweet and mellow, but appeared strong as brandy; my eyes reeled in my head, and my brain became slightly dizzy."Mead is a strong drink," said the old man, as he looked at me, with a half smile on his countenance."This is at any rate," said I, "so strong, indeed, that I would not drink another cup for any consideration." "And I would not ask you," said the old man;"for, if you did, you would most probably be stupid all day, and wake the next morning with a headache.Mead is a good drink, but woundily strong, especially to those who be not used to it, as I suppose you are not." "Where do you get it?" said I."I make it myself," said the old man, "from the honey which my bees make." "Have you many bees?" I inquired.
"A great many," said the old man."And do you keep them,"said I, "for the sake of making mead with their honey?" "Ikeep them," he replied, "partly because I am fond of them, and partly for what they bring me in; they make me a great deal of honey, some of which I sell, and with a little I make some mead to warm my poor heart with, or occasionally to treat a friend with like yourself." "And do you support yourself entirely by means of your bees?" "No," said the old man; "I have a little bit of ground behind my house, which is my principal means of support." "And do you live alone?""Yes," said he; "with the exception of the bees and the donkey, I live quite alone." "And have you always lived alone?" The old man emptied his cup, and his heart being warmed with the mead, he told his history, which was simplicity itself.His father was a small yeoman, who, at his death, had left him, his only child, the cottage, with a small piece of ground behind it, and on this little property he had lived ever since.About the age of twenty-five he had married an industrious young woman, by whom he had one daughter, who died before reaching years of womanhood.His wife, however, had survived her daughter many years, and had been a great comfort to him, assisting him in his rural occupations; but, about four years before the present period, he had lost her, since which time he had lived alone, making himself as comfortable as he could; cultivating his ground, with the help of a lad from the neighbouring village, attending to his bees, and occasionally riding his donkey to market, and hearing the word of God, which he said he was sorry he could not read, twice a week regularly at the parish church.Such was the old man's tale.
When he had finished speaking, he led me behind his house, and showed me his little domain.It consisted of about two acres in admirable cultivation; a small portion of it formed a kitchen garden, while the rest was sown with four kinds of grain, wheat, barley, peas, and beans.The air was full of ambrosial sweets, resembling those proceeding from an orange grove; a place which though I had never seen at that time, Isince have.In the garden was the habitation of the bees, a long box, supported upon three oaken stumps.It was full of small round glass windows, and appeared to be divided into a great many compartments, much resembling drawers placed sideways.He told me that, as one compartment was filled, the bees left it for another; so that, whenever he wanted honey, he could procure some without injury to the insects.
Through the little round windows I could see several of the bees at work; hundreds were going in and out of the doors;hundreds were buzzing about on the flowers, the woodbines, and beans.As I looked around on the well-cultivated field, the garden, and the bees, I thought I had never before seen so rural and peaceful a scene.
When we returned to the cottage we again sat down, and Iasked the old man whether he was not afraid to live alone.
He told me that he was not, for that, upon the whole, his neighbours were very kind to him.I mentioned the fellow who had swindled him of his donkey upon the road."That was no neighbour of mine," said the old man, "and, perhaps, I shall never see him again, or his like." "It's a dreadful thing,"said I, "to have no other resource, when injured, than to shed tears on the road." "It is so," said the old man; "but God saw the tears of the old, and sent a helper." "Why did you not help yourself?" said I."Instead of getting off your ass, why did you not punch at the fellow, or at any rate use dreadful language, call him villain, and shout robbery?""Punch!" said the old man, "shout! what, with these hands, and this voice - Lord, how you run on! I am old, young chap, I am old!" "Well," said I, "it is a shameful thing to cry even when old." "You think so now," said the old man, "because you are young and strong; perhaps when you are as old as I, you will not be ashamed to cry."Upon the whole I was rather pleased with the old man, and much with all about him.As evening drew nigh, I told him that I must proceed on my journey; whereupon he invited me to tarry with him during the night, telling me that he had a nice room and bed above at my service.I, however, declined;and bidding him farewell, mounted my horse, and departed.
Regaining the road, I proceeded once more in the direction of the north; and, after a few hours, coming to a comfortable public-house, I stopped, and put up for the night.
