"Faith and troth!" said he, "but I'll sleep in this house this very
night!"
My grandfather had on a tight pair of buckskins - the slap went to the
landlady's heart.
He followed up the vow by jumping off his horse, and making his way
past the staring Mynheers into the public room. May be you've been in
the barroom of an old Flemish inn - faith, but a handsome chamber it was
as you'd wish to see; with a brick floor, a great fire-place, with the
whole Bible history in glazed tiles; and then the mantel-piece,
pitching itself head foremost out of the wall, with a whole regiment of
cracked tea-pots and earthen jugs paraded on it; not to mention half a
dozen great Delft platters hung about the room by way of pictures; and
the little bar in one corner, and the bouncing bar-maid inside of it
with a red calico cap and yellow ear-drops.
My grandfather snapped his fingers over his head, as he cast an eye
round the room: "Faith, this is the very house I've been looking
after," said he.
There was some farther show of resistance on the part of the garrison,
but my grandfather was an old soldier, and an Irishman to boot, and not
easily repulsed, especially after he had got into the fortress.
