he Reindeer Inn, Banbury]

And again, on Christmas Eve Irving tells of his joyous long day's ride
in a coach, and how he at length arrived at a village where he had
determined to stay the night. As he drove into the great gateway of
the inn (some of them were mighty narrow and required much skill on
the part of the Jehu) he saw on one side the light of a rousing
kitchen fire beaming through a window. He "entered and admired, for
the hundredth time, that picture of convenience, neatness, and broad
honest enjoyment--the kitchen of an English inn." It was of spacious
dimensions, hung round with copper and tin vessels highly polished,
and decorated here and there with Christmas green. Hams, tongues, and
flitches of bacon were suspended from the ceiling; a smoke-jack made
its ceaseless clanking beside the fire-place, and a clock ticked in
one corner. A well-scoured deal table extended along one side of the
kitchen, with a cold round of beef and other hearty viands upon it,
over which two foaming tankards of ale seemed mounting guard.
Travellers of inferior order were preparing to attack this stout
repast, while others sat smoking and gossiping over their ale on two
high-backed oaken settles beside the fire. Trim housemaids were
hurrying backwards and forwards under the directions of a fresh
bustling landlady; but still seizing an occasional moment to exchange
a flippant word, and have a rallying laugh with the group round the
fire.

Such is the cheering picture of an old-fashioned inn in days of yore.
No wonder that the writers should have thus lauded these inns! Imagine
yourself on the box-seat of an old coach travelling somewhat slowly
through the night. It is cold and wet, and your fingers are frozen,
and the rain drives pitilessly in your face; and then, when you are
nearly dead with misery, the coach stops at a well-known inn. A
smiling host and buxom hostess greets you; blazing fires thaw you back
to life, and good cheer awaits your appetite. No wonder people loved
an inn and wished to take their ease therein after the dangers and
hardships of the day. Lord Beaconsfield, in his novel _Tancred_,
vividly describes the busy scene at a country hostelry in the busy
coaching days. The host, who is always "smiling," conveys the pleasing
intelligence to the passengers: "'The coach stops here half an hour,
gentlemen: dinner quite ready.' 'Tis a delightful sound. And what a
dinner! What a profusion of substantial delicacies! W