Read Ebook: The Pedestrian's Guide through North Wales A tour performed in 1837 by Bennett G J George John Clint Alfred Illustrator

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Ebook has 1049 lines and 101480 words, and 21 pages

After leaving Gorham Bury, Earl Verulam's seat on the left, we came to Market Street and passed a delightful residence called Market Cell, the property of a Mr. Johnson, and beyond Sir F. P. Turner's on the right, and Mr. Duncombe's on the left, are places that make a man desirous of possessing ?10,000 per annum.

Then the coach enters Dunchurch, changing horses at the Dun Inn; where being pretty well roasted in the hot sun, some of the passengers endeavoured to obtain a draught of something to moisten their parched throats; but if the garrison of Weedon had discharged all their powder in firing an alarm, and the bells of Dunchurch had joined in the uproar, I do not think a single soul would have answered the summons in the Dun Inn. We were obliged therefore to ascend again, with throats unquenched.

From Dunchurch the coach passes through a noble avenue of elms and firs which stretches for six miles beyond the village, certainly the finest avenue, in extent, I ever beheld; and the size of the trees is not the least interesting object, spreading their luxuriant branches until they form almost a continuous bower.

Coventry sends forth her store of ragged urchins to see the London coach come in, and peeping Tom, in effigy, looks as inquisitive as peeping Tom himself could have done.

At Bucknell, another view of the railroad is obtained; and at length, to the infinite joy of hungry passengers, Birmingham, and dinner, appear in the distance.

We drew up to the inn. I was the only passenger who entered the dining room. The coach was to stop for twenty minutes; and after waiting ten with the patience of a stoic, the waiter entered with a calf's head, cold, over which some boiling water had been poured, by way of sauce. I am fond of a mealy potatoe, and some were placed before me thoroughly saturated; a cauliflower, boiled in the scented waters of fifty other vegetables, completely scared away my appetite, and fully answered the purposes both of landlord and coachman.

The latter at that moment popping his head in at the door, "Coach ready, sir, if you please!"

"I'm glad of it; what's to pay, my girl?"

"Three and sixpence for dinner, sir, if you please, and threepence for ale."

"Experience makes fools wise,"

I exclaimed, as with an empty stomach I reseated myself upon the box.

"St--st--go along! a fine town this, sir!"

"Is it?"

"Don't you think so, sir?

"I never was in such a half starved, hungry looking place in my life," cried I, at that time feeling the cravings of nature strong within me, and fancying I saw the ghost of a London cook shop, flitting before my eyes.

The road from Birmingham to Shrewsbury, if travelled by night, gives a stranger a glowing idea of the "fiery regions," never mentioned to "ears polite." No description can come up to the flaming reality exhibited in the appearance of this country; hundreds of hills of burning coke blaze in all directions, and the air is scarcely endurable from the gaseous qualities of the smoke, which sweeps across the road in huge columns, almost suffocating every passenger who ventures upon that dismal tract.

But increasing horrors gather round the devoted tourist as he advances further, on the road to Wolverhampton: thousands of indistinct forms move in the glare of the distant fires, or flit, like a legion of black devils, over the burning coals; sometimes standing in bold relief before the blazing chimneys of fifty or sixty steam engines, that send up bursts of flame glaring in all directions; and imagination might picture thousands of fallen angels, tossing their flaming brands above their heads, in frantic sport and direful revelry.

Groups of grinning imps sat scattered near the road side, whose yellings made the welkin ring again as we passed by them. Roaring Bacchanals filled the air with their drunken shouts; and withered hags held out their bony hands for alms, to be expended in liquid fire for their throats.

Behind me, on the roof of the coach, were two most eccentric travellers who had taken their places at Birmingham for Shrewsbury. The night was cold, and one, whom I discovered to be of the Emerald Isle, had, with national foresight, provided himself with a dacent drop of "the mountain dew," just to keep the wind off his stomach; and next to him was seated a demure looking personage, who by his peculiar dialect proved to be a son of Scotia--

"Land of the mountain and the flood."

It must be observed that this sprig of shamrock was dressed in a blue jacket, with a light summer waistcoat, and a pair of duck trowsers, which suited admirably the mid-day ride, but were inefficient to exclude the cold night air. But I suppose he went, like the generality of his countrymen, upon the philosophical principle, that "a light heart and a thin pair of breeches goes thorough the world, my brave boys." His companion was dressed in a velvet shooting jacket, thick plush trowsers, and waistcoat of the same, over which he wore a heavy box coat, which was encased in a cloth cloak of unusual dimensions: over this was a mackintosh cape, and his head was enveloped in a fur cap, fastened by an Indian silk handkerchief tied round the chin--and altogether he seemed to defy wind and weather.

This bundle of comfort, pulling down for an instant the neckerchief, which was also rolled round the aperture of speech, emphatically stated that he had no need of the offer.

"For ye ken," said he, "that I'm a prudent mon, and never venture outside o' the coach, unless I have a' the comforts o' the inside about me; there's ne'er a mon, sir, shut up in that unhealthy box, ye may ken, but is caulder than mysel; and I guess, fra' the garments on your person, that ye're no quite sae warm."

"Why thin if I was, I'd be thinking myself nearer to a certain personage than I have any inclination to be for the next half century."

"But ye ken that extremes meet; and I think by that calculation ye may be nearer to the friend ye mention than I am, seeing that I am but just comfortable, and ye are near the freezing point."

Having uttered this sarcasm upon his shivering companion, the canny Scot replaced the muffler over his lips, as a signal for silence, while the Irishman, taking another draught from his pocket pistol, sang a stanza of Erin go bragh, and consoled himself with striking a light for his cigar, from which he sent clouds of smoke, which made our travelling convenience resemble, in the gloom, a steam carriage, as it flew along, with nearly as great rapidity; the lighted end serving, as a warming pan to his nose, which thus illuminated, seemed not much unlike a blue light, such as mariners burn for signals of distress.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Boxer," said he, touching me on the shoulder, "but are you a politician?"

"Why, to say the truth, sir," I replied, "I interfere as little as possible with what, I conceive, wiser heads than mine are greatly puzzled."

"Why that's true, sure enough," continued he, "but may be you've heard of the--holloa!"

Here he was interrupted by his bulky companion, whom a lurch of the coach had flung heavily upon him as he was leaning forward to reach my ear. The Scotchman had fallen asleep, and effectually prevented his neighbour from regaining his sitting posture, by the weight of his body and its envelopes.

A sonorous grunt, which drowned the rattle of the coach wheels, was the only reply to this appeal, and Paddy being unacquainted with the language, immediately put his threat into execution. I have said before it was a cold night, and Sandy, who naturally enough started, at the application of the cigar to his proboscis, from his ideal world to a dreamy consciousness of his real situation, placing his hand on the injured part, exclaimed, still half bewildered, "Eh! that's vera true, indeed. It's a cauld night, and I verily believe that my nose is frost-bitten. I maun pit t'other shawl round it;" saying which he dragged one from his pocket, and was completely enveloped, apparently to suffocation.

"Why then, I've heard of salamanders, but Scotland must be mighty cauld since you left it," said my thinly clad fellow traveller, when a half smothered voice spoke through the rolls of shawls and silk handkerchiefs. "Do you find yoursel' sae hot in my company?"

The castinet-like sounds of the Irishman's teeth was the only reply to this question, and silence ensued.

"What column is that we are approaching, coachman?"

"Why that, sir, is a pillar."

"Thank ye; but what was it placed there for?"

"Why, sir, it was put there by subscription, as a compliment to Lord Hill."

"Oh, indeed!"

The column is of the Doric order, rising from a base. The angles are ornamented with lions couchant, and the height of the pillar is 132 feet; upon its summit was placed a figure which old Push-along assured me was a fine likeness of old Rowley; it was erected in 1814.

"Blow the horn, Ned, will you!" And now, rattling over stones, through streets crowded with youthful idlers assembled to catch a sight of the new comers, we rapidly approached the inn. In a moment more we were at the gate of the Lion.

A good supper and a comfortable bed made amends for the bad dinner and the cold ride, and in the morning I arose much refreshed, and sallied forth to view the town.

Walk to Montford Bridge--The Severn--An agreeable companion--Delights of a Tourist--Histrionic Ambition--Wittington--The Castle--The Church--Curious Epitaphs.

"Oh Wittington, among thy towers Pleas'd did my early childhood stray, Bask'd on thy walls in sunny hours And pull'd thy moss and pluck'd thy flowers Full many a truant day."

FITZ-GWARINE.

AFTER breakfasting at the inn, I, like the honorable Dick Dowlass, with my wardrobe on my back, and a light heart, proceeded on the road to Chirk.

The Severn, to the right, winded beautifully towards the ancient town I left behind. Bees hummed--birds sang--and blossoms sent forth their fragrance to delight the traveller as he gaily trudged "the footpath way." Cheerfulness was above, beneath, around me, and in my heart. I paused upon the bridge at Montford, to take a lingering farewell of the sweet flowing Severn, its wooded banks and meadows gay; and was about to commence a sublime soliloquy, when I was accosted by an elderly personage in a straw hat, fustian shooting coat, knee-breeches, gaiters and shoes. He had a stout cudgel in his hand, and a knapsack, more capacious than mine, strapped across his shoulders. He appeared to be about fifty-five years of age, and being furnished like myself, it struck me that a passing traveller might naturally enough take us for father and son.

Fortunately we were both pursuing the same route, and a desultory dialogue commenced with the never failing observation:

"A fine morning, sir."

"Very."

"A noble river this, sir?"

"Beautiful."

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