iles across the country;
before his departure, however, I told him that I had determined to accept
the offer of his governor, as he called him. At the bottom of my heart I
was most happy that an offer had been made, which secured to myself and
the animal a comfortable retreat at a moment when I knew not whither in
the world to take myself and him.

CHAPTER XXIV

An Inn of Times gone by--A First-rate Publican--Hay and
Corn--Old-fashioned Ostler--Highwaymen--Mounted Police--Grooming.

The inn, of which I had become an inhabitant, was a place of infinite
life and bustle. Travellers of all descriptions, from all the cardinal
points, were continually stopping at it; and to attend to their wants,
and minister to their convenience, an army of servants, of one
description or other, was kept; waiters, chambermaids, grooms,
postillions, shoe-blacks, cooks, scullions, and what not, for there was a
barber and hair-dresser, who had been at Paris, and talked French with a
cockney accent; the French sounding all the better, as no accent is so
melodious as the cockney. Jacks creaked in the kitchens turning round
spits, on which large joints of meat piped and smoked before great big
fires. There was running up and down stairs, and along galleries,
slamming of doors, cries of "Coming, sir," and "Please to step this way,
ma'am," during eighteen hours of the four-and-twenty. Truly a very great
place for life and bustle was this inn. And often in after life, when
lonely and melancholy, I have called up the time I spent there, and never
failed to become cheerful from the recollection.

I found the master of the house a very kind and civil person. Before
being an inn-keeper he had been in some other line of business; but on
the death of the former proprietor of the inn had married his widow, who
was still alive, but, being somewhat infirm, lived in a retired part of
the house. I have said that he was kind and civil; he was, however, not
one of those people who suffer themselves to be made fools of by anybody;
he knew his customers, and had a calm, clear eye, which would look
through a man without seeming to do so. The accommodation of his house
was of the very best description; his wines were good, his viands equally
so, and his charges not immoderate; though he very properly took care of
himself. He was no vulgar inn-keeper, had a host of friends, and
deserved them all. During the time I lived with him, he was presented