I was pleased to see the fondness with which the little fellows leaped about the steady old footman, and hugged the pointer, who wriggled his whole body for joy.  But Bantam was the great object of interest; all wanted to mount at once; and it was with some difficulty that John arranged that they should ride by turns, and the eldest should ride first.

Off they set at last; one on the pony, with the dog bounding and barking before him, and the others holding John’s hands; both talking at once, and overpowering him by questions about home, and with school anecdotes.  I looked after them with a feeling in which I do not know whether pleasure or melancholy predominated:  for I was reminded of those days when, like them, I had neither known care nor sorrow, and a holiday was the summit of earthly felicity.  We stopped a few moments afterward to water the horses, and on resuming our route, a turn of the road brought us in sight of a neat country seat.  I could just distinguish the forms of a lady and two young girls in the portico, and I saw my little comrades, with Bantam, Carlo, and old John, trooping along the carriage road.  I leaned out of the coach-window, in hopes of witnessing the happy meeting, but a grove of trees shut it from my sight.

In the evening we reached a village where I had determined to pass the night.  As we drove into the great gateway of the inn, I saw on one side the light of a rousing kitchen fire beaming through a window.  I 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 a Christmas green.  Hams, tongues, and flitches of bacon were suspended from the ceiling; a smoke-jack made its ceaseless clanking beside the fireplace, 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 seats beside the fire.  Trim house-maids 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.  The scene completely realised Poor Robin’s humble idea of the comforts of midwinter.

     “Now trees their leafy hats do bare,
     To reverence Winter’s silver hair;
     A handsome hostess, merry host,
     A pot of ale now and a toast,
     Tobacco and a good coal fire,
     Are things this season doth require."*

     * Poor Robin’s Almanack, 1684.