e holes on the hill sides that they call
lead-mines. But David did manage to burrow under and through the hard
limestone rooks as well as any of them. He was a hard-working man,
though he liked a sup of beer, as most Derbyshire men do, and sometimes
came home none of the soberest. He was naturally of a very hasty temper,
and would fly into great rages; and if he were put out by any thing in
the working of the mines, or the conduct of his fellow-workmen, he would
stay away from home for days, drinking at Tideswell, or the Bull's Head,
at the top of Monsal Dale, or down at the Miners' Arms at
Ashford-in-the-water.

Betty Dunster bore all this patiently. She looked on these things
somewhat as matters of course. At that time, and even now, how few
miners do not drink and "rol a bit," as they call it. She was,
therefore, tolerant, and let the storms blow over, ready always to
persuade her husband to go home and sleep off his drink and anger, but
if he were too violent, leaving him till another attempt might succeed
better. She was very fond of her children, and not only taught them on
week-days their lessons, and to help her to seam, but also took them to
the Methodist Chapel in "Tidser," as they called Tideswell, whither,
whenever she could, she enticed David. David, too, in his way, was fond
of the children, especially of the boy, who was called David after him.
He was quite wrapped up in the lad, to use the phrase of the people in
that part; in fact, he was foolishly and mischievously fond of him. He
would give him beer to drink, "to make a true Briton on him," as he
said, spite of Betty's earnest endeavor to prevent it--telling him that
he was laying the foundation in the lad of the same faults that he had
himself. But David Dunster did not look on drinking as a fault at all.
It was what he had been used to all his life. It was what all the miners
had been used to for generations. A man was looked on as a milk-sop and
a Molly Coddle, that would not take his mug of ale, and be merry with
his comrades. It required the light of education, and the efforts that
have been made by the Temperance Societies, to break in on this ancient
custom of drinking, which, no doubt, has flourished in these hills since
the Danes and other Scandinavians bored and perforated them of old for
the ores of lead and copper. To Betty Dunster's remonstrances, and
commendations of tea, David would reply, "Botheration, Betty, wench!
Dunna tell me about