TTTF. EXETER ROAD 



115 



remarked, '•' What, is ' F.st-il possible ? ' gone too ! A 

 good trooper would have been a greater loss ;" and left 

 for London — I was going to say by the next coach. At 

 the Lion Inn, readers of Thackeray \v\\\ remember, the 

 ingenious Barry L)-ndon lay on the first night of his 

 journey to Ha'ckton Castle, county Devon ; here he 

 called up the landlord to crack a bottle with him in the 

 evening ; here Lady Lyndon took umbrage at the 



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/7.-e IF/;i7^ //cir^, Whitchurch. 



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Corridor in White Hart. 



proceeding ; and here the great Barry " who hated 

 pride," " overcame," as he delicately puts it, this vice 

 in his haughty spouse. 



To become geographical for a moment, it is at 

 Andover, or to be quite accurate, half a mile out of the 

 town, that the two great coaching roads to the West of 

 England diverge — one going by Little Ann, Little 

 Wallop, Lobton Corner, and Winterslow Hut (celebrated 



I 2 



