y attired on
prancing steeds, and followed by pages and serving-men, as we see them
represented in old tapestry! The gentry, as they travelled about in
those days, were like moving pictures. They delighted the eyes and
awakened the admiration of the common people, and passed before them
like superior beings; and, indeed, they were so; there was a hardy and
healthful exercise connected with this equestrian style that made them
generous and noble.

In his fondness for the old style of travelling, the Squire makes most
of his journeys on horseback, though he laments the modern deficiency
of incident on the road, from the want of fellow-wayfarers, and the
rapidity with which every one else is whirled along in coaches and
post-chaises. In the "good old times," on the contrary, a cavalier
jogged on through bog and mire, from town to town and hamlet to
hamlet, conversing with friars and franklins, and all other chance
companions of the road; beguiling the way with travellers' tales,
which then were truly wonderful, for every thing beyond one's
neighbourhood was full of marvel and romance; stopping at night at
some "hostel," where the bush over the door proclaimed good wine, or a
pretty hostess made bad wine palatable; meeting at supper with
travellers, or listening to the song or merry story of the host, who
was generally a boon companion, and presided at his own board; for,
according to old Tusser's "Innholder's Posie,"

"At meales my friend who vitleth here
And sitteth with his host,
Shall both be sure of better cheere,
And 'scape with lesser cost."

The Squire is fond, too, of stopping at those inns which may be met
with here and there in ancient houses of wood and plaster, or
calimanco houses, as they are called by antiquaries, with deep
porches, diamond-paned bow-windows, pannelled rooms, and great
fire-places. He will prefer them to more spacious and modern inns, and
would cheerfully put up with bad cheer and bad accommodations in the
gratification of his humour. They give him, he says, the feelings of
old times, insomuch that he almost expects in the dusk of the evening
to see some party of weary travellers ride up to the door with plumes
and mantles, trunk-hose, wide boots, and long rapiers.

The good Squire's remarks brought to mind a visit that I once paid to
the Tabbard Inn, famous for being the place of assemblage from whence
Chaucer's pilgrims set forth for Canterbury. It is in the borough of
So