y horror the cheese had
much the appearance of soap of the commonest kind, which indeed I found
it much resembled in taste, on putting a small portion into my mouth.
"Ah," said I, after I had opened the window and ejected the
half-masticated morsel into the street, "those who wish to regale on good
Cheshire cheese must not come to Chester, no more than those who wish to
drink first-rate coffee must go to Mocha. I'll now see whether the ale
is drinkable;" so I took a little of the ale into my mouth, and instantly
going to the window, spirted it out after the cheese. "Of a surety,"
said I, "Chester ale must be of much the same quality as it was in the
time of Sion Tudor, who spoke of it to the following effect:--

"Chester ale, Chester ale! I could ne'er get it down,
'Tis made of ground-ivy, of dirt, and of bran,
'Tis as thick as a river below a huge town!
'Tis not lap for a dog, far less drink for a man.'

Well! if I have been deceived in the cheese, I have at any rate not been
deceived in the ale, which I expected to find execrable. Patience! I
shall not fall into a passion, more especially as there are things I can
fall back upon. Wife! I will trouble you for a cup of tea. Henrietta!
have the kindness to cut me a slice of bread and butter."

Upon the whole we found ourselves very comfortable in the old-fashioned
inn, which was kept by a nice old-fashioned gentlewoman, with the
assistance of three servants, namely, a "boots" and two strapping
chambermaids, one of which was a Welsh girl, with whom I soon scraped
acquaintance, not, I assure the reader, for the sake of the pretty Welsh
eyes which she carried in her head, but for the sake of the pretty Welsh
tongue which she carried in her mouth, from which I confess occasionally
proceeded sounds which, however pretty, I was quite unable to understand.

CHAPTER III

Chester--The Rows--Lewis Glyn Cothi--Tragedy of Mold--Native of
Antigua--Slavery and the Americans--The Tents--Saturday Night.

On the morning after our arrival we went out together, and walked up and
down several streets; my wife and daughter, however, soon leaving me to
go into a shop, I strolled about by myself. Chester is an ancient town
with walls and gates, a prison called a castle, built on the site of an
ancient keep, an unpretending-looking red sandstone cathedral, two or
three handsome churches, several good streets, and certain curious places
called rows. Th