e 18th of April,
1706._ All that are desirous to pass from London to York, or from
York to London, or any other place on that road, let them repair to
the Black Swan, in Holborn, in London, or to the Black Swan, in
Coney Street, in York. At both which places they may be received in
a _Stage Coach_, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, which performs
the journey in four days--if God permits!--and sets forth at five in
the morning. And returns from York to Stamford in two days, and from
Stamford, by Huntingdon, in two days more. And the like stages in
their return. Allowing each passenger fourteen pounds' weight, and
all above, three pence per pound. Performed by Benjamin Kingman,
Henry Harrison, and Waller Baynes.--_Placard, preserved in the
coffee-room, of the Black Swan Inn at York._

The night had hitherto been balmy and beautiful, with a bright array of
stars, and a golden harvest moon, which seemed to diffuse even warmth
with its radiance; but now Turpin was approaching the region of fog and
fen, and he began to feel the influence of that dank atmosphere. The
intersecting dykes, yawners, gullies, or whatever they are called, began
to send forth their steaming vapors, and chilled the soft and wholesome
air, obscuring the void, and in some instances, as it were, choking up
the road itself with vapor. But fog or fen was the same to Bess; her
hoofs rattled merrily along the road, and she burst from a cloud, like
Eoeus at the break of dawn.

It chanced, as he issued from a fog of this kind, that Turpin burst upon
the York stage coach. It was no uncommon thing for the coach to be
stopped; and so furious was the career of our highwayman, that the man
involuntarily drew up his horses. Turpin had also to draw in the rein, a
task of no little difficulty, as charging a huge, lumbering coach, with
its full complement of passengers, was more than even Bess could
accomplish. The moon shone brightly on Turpin and his mare. He was
unmasked, and his features were distinctly visible. An exclamation was
uttered by a gentleman on the box, who, it appeared, instantly
recognized him.

"Pull up--draw your horses across the road!" cried the gentleman;
"that's Dick Turpin, the highwayman. His capture would be worth three
hundred pounds to you," added he, addressing the coachman, "and is of
equal importance to me. Stand!" shouted he, presenting a cocked pistol.

This resolution of the gen