The hospitality of the Yorkshire people is so well known, and so generally admitted by all those who have been recipients of the same, that I purpose just leaving it as an established fact. Still, there is one curious offshoot from this generous branch, which needs _en passant_ a moment’s consideration.
I once heard a South-country man say, ‘Yorkshire people give you more than you want at their table, and then beg from you on the doorstep.’ And to those who know nothing of our ways, usages, and customs, such would almost seem to be the case. Of course, as put by the South-country man, the statement, if complete, would stamp Yorkshire and its people as being rather more than contemptible. But such is not the case, and when the reason for the remark was perfectly sifted, the notion which had got such a firm hold of the speaker was found to have been based on a want of knowledge of the elementary rules which govern the unwritten law of bargaining. Why, pages could be written on bargaining, and stories told by the score.
But when a bargain has been concluded, the money paid, the receipt given, a substantial meal partaken of, with grog, &c., ad lib., it becomes quite easy to understand the South-country man’s surprise, on leaving the house, to be asked ’ti gi’e summat back foor luck.’ To him, not knowing our ways, the transaction was completed; with us it was not, and therein lies the difference. It does strike one as peculiar to find such marked generosity, when run on certain lines, only to be confronted the next step with some little action which at first sight looks very much like meanness. But all this misconception vanishes if we bear in mind that _hospitality_ and _business_ are never made to clash; they, as it were, occupy separate rooms.
I have a story in my mind which illustrates fully these peculiarities, as well as others already mentioned. As it was given to me by his lordship, so briefly let me give it to you.
One day two of a shooting party, his lordship and the Hon. G——, decided to give their guns a rest, and visit an ancient church some six miles distant. They were strongly advised to take a keeper with them, but feeling quite sure they could find their way, started by themselves. Possibly they might have succeeded, had not a sea fret and heavy fog wrapped the whole moor in a shroud. They were lost, and they knew it. Fortunately, when quite worn out, they discovered a farm-house; and on inquiry they were told that they had wandered much out of their way, being then quite ten miles from the shooting-box. Too tired to walk back, they asked the farmer if he could possibly drive them. ‘Whya, Ah c’u’d,’ said he, ‘bud it’s a langish waay, an’ mah meer’s a bit tired; Ah’d ommaist rayther set ya ti wheer you c’u’dn’t loss yersels.’ They, however, declared they were too tired to think of walking, and offered him half a sovereign as an inducement. Then the bargaining propensity came to the surface. ‘Haaf a sover’ign!’ said he. ‘Neea, what ya’ll ’a’e ti mak it fifteen bob.’ To which they assented. During this bargaining, the good wife was spreading the table with abundance of food. ‘Noo then,’ said the good man, ‘ya mun’ reeach teea an’ mak yersens at heeam. Ya’re welcome ti t’ best o’ what wa’ve gitten; deean’t be neyce aboot it, ther’s plenty mair wheer that’s cum’d fra; Ah’ll cum roond wi’ t’ meer efter a bit.’ When they were ready for departure, one of them inquired how much they were indebted for their splendid repast. To which the farmer, in characteristic fashion, made answer: ‘What wa’ve gi’en ya, wa’ve gi’en ya, an’ ya’re welcome ti ’t; drhaaving ya ti t’ shutting-box war a bargain, an’ anuther thing altigither, an’ ther’s nowt aboot that.’ And not a penny piece could either be prevailed upon to receive for their hospitality.