The Leather Plater. 277 



sharper trot as soon as he sees the well-known signal. The old 

 ostler has heard us coming, and stands by the water-trough with 

 his lantern held above his head to endeavour to make us out before 

 we reach the door ; and when we do pull up, he takes our horse 

 with the cordial greeting, "Oh, it's you, is it, master? What, you're 

 on the old mare to night ? I thought I knew her trot. Glad to see 

 you, sir. Gently, old gal, we'll soon have you all right. You won't 

 go any further to-night, sir? I'll take care of the old mare." And 

 he leads her round to the stables as we walk in to the well-lighted 

 passage, and turn into the snug little parlour, where we have spent 

 many a pleasant hour before. No occasion for us to go round to 

 the stable to see that our mare has her fair allowance ; we can 

 safely trust old Sam. And we feel just as confident that in half an 

 hour she will be rubbed dry, revelling in a snug loose box with 

 straw up to her knees, and anxiously waiting for the pail of gruel 

 which the old ostler will be mixing for her at the kitchen fire, as 

 that we shall be comfortably seated before a blazing coal fire, with 

 a heel on each hob, watching the pretty waiting-maid laying the 

 cloth for our supper, and contentedly listening, every time the door 

 opens, to the hissing of the half-pound of rump-steak which is 

 grilling for us on the kitchen fire. 



The Chequers was an excellent type of a country roadside inn, 

 as we used to see them some five-and-twenty years ago ; and its 

 landlord, old John Harrison, the very man to rule over such an 

 hostelry. He had for nearly a quarter of a century driven one of 

 the London coaches up and down this road, till, weary of so long a 

 servitude, he married the buxom cook up at the Hall and settled 

 down as landlord of the Chequers. Three or four of our 

 coaches used to change here ; and those coachmen who did not 

 change seldom passed his door without pulling up on some excuse 

 or other but in reality to have a word with old John and taste his 

 old ale, which was as much renowned all down that road as him- 

 self. The railways, of course, have taken away much of the 

 romance of road-travelling, and probably these little road-side inns 

 are now hard to find -, but I suppose even now there must be nooks 



