Politics, too, as a
rule, were not mentioned in private houses. They were mostly
reserved for the "Angel," and for the brandies and water and pipes
which collected there in the evening.
To return. After tea the master went back once more to his counter,
and the shutters were put up at eight. From eight to nine was an
hour of which no account can be given: The lights were left burning
in the shops, and the neighbour across the way looked in and remained
talking till his supper was ready. Supper at nine, generally hot,
was an institution never omitted, and, like tea, was convivial; but
the conviviality was of a distinctly lower order. Everybody had
whisky, gin, or brandy afterwards, and every male person who was of
age smoked. There was, as a rule, no excess, but the remarks were
apt to be disconnected and woolly; and the wife, who never had grog
for herself, but always sipped her husband's went to sleep. Eleven
o'clock saw all Cowfold in bed, and disturbed only by such dreams as
were begotten of the previous liver and bacon and alcohol.
There were no villains amongst that portion of the inhabitants with
which this history principally concerns itself, nor was a single
adventure of any kind ever known to happen beyond the adventures of
being born, getting married, falling sick, and dying, with now and
then an accident from a gig.
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