Eleven o’clock
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 . Consequently it might be thought that there was no romance in Cowfold . There could not be a greater mistake .