CHESTER BEER. 127 



I 



pewter mugs, and trying to sing " There was a jolly collier." 



Mrs. Jones stood between them. I pushed one of them aside, 

 and asked her what she wished expecting that she would want 

 me to try to put him into the street. The men made such a noise 

 that I could not hear her mild voice in reply, which, she perceiv- 

 ing, turned again and said, in a tone that at once quelled them, 

 " Stop your noise, you brutes ! " and then to me, " will you 

 please step into the kitchen, sir ? " She only wished to know 

 what we would like to have for our breakfast and dinner, as the 

 shops would close soon, and, to-morrow being Sunday, they would 

 not be open before noon. 



The next morning, when we were going out, she came to un- 

 lock the door of the passage or entry, and told us she was obliged 

 by law to keep it locked till two o'clock. At two o'clock we 

 found it open, and immediately after saw a man drinking beer in 

 the tap-room again. 



There is a continual and universal beer-drinking in Chester. 

 Mrs. Jones tells us that the quality of the beer made here has 

 long been a matter of town pride, though now there is very little 

 brewed in families, every one almost being supplied, at a great 

 saving of trouble, from the large breweries. She says there used 

 to be a town law that whoever brewed poor beer should be pub- 

 licly ducked. Sunday night, young men with their sweethearts 

 and sisters, of reputable appearance, and quiet, decent behavior, 

 came into our back parlor, and sitting by the round-table, ordered 

 and drank each their glass or two of beer, as in an American 

 town they would take ice-cream. Now and then a few remarks 

 would be made about the sermon and who had been at church, or 

 about those who had been, or were soon going to be, married, or 

 other town gossip ; but for the most, they would sit and drink 

 their beer in silence. 



