hat mighty and
iris-tinted rounds of beef! What vast and marble-veined ribs! What
gelatinous veal pies! What colossal hams! These are evidently prize
cheeses! And how invigorating is the perfume of those various and
variegated pickles. Then the bustle emulating the plenty; the ringing
of bells, the clash of thoroughfare, the summoning of ubiquitous
waiters, and the all-pervading feeling of omnipotence from the guests,
who order what they please to the landlord, who can produce and
execute everything they can desire. 'Tis a wondrous sight!"

[Illustration: The Shoulder of Mutton Inn, King's Lynn]

And then how picturesque these old inns are, with their swinging
signs, the pump and horse-trough before the door, a towering elm or
poplar overshadowing the inn, and round it and on each side of the
entrance are seats, with rustics sitting on them. The old house has
picturesque gables and a tiled roof mellowed by age, with moss and
lichen growing on it, and the windows are latticed. A porch protects
the door, and over it and up the walls are growing old-fashioned
climbing rose trees. Morland loved to paint the exteriors of inns
quite as much as he did to frequent their interiors, and has left us
many a wondrous drawing of their beauties. The interior is no less
picturesque, with its open ingle-nook, its high-backed settles, its
brick floor, its pots and pans, its pewter and brass utensils. Our
artist has drawn for us many beautiful examples of old inns, which we
shall visit presently and try to learn something of their old-world
charm. He has only just been in time to sketch them, as they are fast
disappearing. It is astonishing how many noted inns in London and the
suburbs have vanished during the last twenty or thirty years.

Let us glance at a few of the great Southwark inns. The old "Tabard,"
from which Chaucer's pilgrims started on their memorable journey, was
destroyed by a great fire in 1676, rebuilt in the old fashion, and
continued until 1875, when it had to make way for a modern "old
Tabard" and some hop merchant's offices. This and many other inns had
galleries running round the yard, or at one end of it, and this yard
was a busy place, frequented not only by travellers in coach or
saddle, but by poor players and mountebanks, who set up their stage
for the entertainment of spectators who hung over the galleries or
from their rooms watched the performance. The model of an inn-yard was
the first germ of theatrical