130 FISHING FOR PLEASURE 



voices and the frequent blasts on the long coach- 

 horn, which echoed through this scenery, added 

 a new pleasure to our ride. Our hornblower 

 managed very cleverly, as we all thought, to get 

 out several tunes, such as " Auld Lang Syne," on 

 this long keyless tube. 



THE (REPUTED) BIRTHPLACE OF H. M. STANLEY. 



Continuing this most picturesque route we 

 come at length to a little village, the name of 

 which I forget, but the great and attractive 

 feature of it is the inn called the " Cross Foxes." 

 This is a modest, neat, little inn, now kept by 

 Mr. Thomas Eastham; when our coach reached 

 it it was already surrounded by half a dozen 

 other coaches, whose loads of people were 

 streaming, crushing, and crowding into this inn. 

 " This inn, ladies and gentlemen," cried our en- 

 thusiastic conductor, " will be celebrated for all 

 time, for it was here that the mother of the cele- 

 brated traveller, Henry M. Stanley, lived and 

 died only recently, and here it is supposed the 

 great hero was born. Inside will be seen his 

 portrait hung on the wall, and upstairs is the 

 handsome tent-bed on which he slept. Ladies 

 and gentlemen, Mr. Stanley was a Welshman, he 

 rose from very humble circumstances, by in- 

 domitable pluck, to become the most celebrated 

 explorer of his age. I am a Welshman, and I am 



