of Dunham, and descending the hill that brings you to the bridge
crossing the little river Bollin. With some difficulty we penetrated
this ravine. It is just the place for an adventure of the kind. A small
brook wells through it; and the steep banks are overhung with timber,
and were, when we last visited the place, in April, 1834, a perfect nest
of primroses and wild flowers. Hough (pronounced Hoo) Green lies about
three miles across the country--the way Turpin rode. The old
Bowling-green is one of the pleasantest inns in Cheshire.

[96] Money.

[97] Man.

[98] Stripped.

[99] Fellow.

[100] A particular kind of pugilistic punishment.

[101] Kept each an eye upon the other.

[102] Hands.

[103] Deceive them.

[104] Accomplice.

[105] A farthing.

[106] Cards.

[107] Qy. _elite_.--PRINTER'S DEVIL.

[108] Shoot him.

[109] Since the earlier editions of this Romance were published, we
regret to state--for to _us_, at least, it is matter of regret, though
probably not to the travellers along the Edgeware Road--that this gentle
ascent has been cut through, and the fair prospect from its brow utterly
destroyed.

[110] This, we regret to say, is not the case. The memory of bold Will
Davies, the "_Golden Farmer_"--so named from the circumstances of his
always paying his rent in gold,--is fast declining upon his peculiar
domain, Bagshot. The inn, which once bore his name, still remains to
point out to the traveller the dangers his forefathers had to encounter
in crossing this extensive heath. Just beyond this house the common
spreads out for miles on all aides in a most gallop-inviting style; and
the passenger, as he gazes from the box of some flying coach, as we have
done, upon the gorse-covered waste, may, without much stretch of fancy,
imagine he beholds Will Davies careering like the wind over its wild and
undulating expanse. We are sorry to add that the "_Golden_ Farmer" has
altered its designation to the "_Jolly_ Farmer." This should be amended;
and when next we pass that way, we hope to see the original sign
restored. We cannot afford to lose our _golden_ farmers.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rookwood, by William Harrison Ainsworth

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