Sauvage," was a great coaching centre, and so were the "Swan with two
Necks," Lad Lane, the "Spread Eagle" and "Cross Keys" in Gracechurch
Street, the "White Horse," Fetter Lane, and the "Angel," behind St.
Clements. As we do not propose to linger long in London, and prefer
the country towns and villages where relics of old English life
survive, we will hie to one of these noted hostelries, book our seats
on a Phantom coach, and haste away from the great city which has dealt
so mercilessly with its ancient buildings. It is the last few years
which have wrought the mischief. Many of these old inns lingered on
till the 'eighties. Since then their destruction has been rapid, and
the huge caravanserais, the "Cecil," the "Ritz," the "Savoy," and the
"Metropole," have supplanted the old Saracen's Heads, the Bulls, the
Bells, and the Boars that satisfied the needs of our forefathers in a
less luxurious age.

Let us travel first along the old York road, or rather select our
route, going by way of Ware, Tottenham, Edmonton, and Waltham Cross,
Hatfield and Stevenage, or through Barnet, until we arrive at the
Wheat Sheaf Inn on Alconbury Hill, past Little Stukeley, where the two
roads conjoin and "the milestones are numbered agreeably to that
admeasurement," viz. to that from Hicks' Hall through Barnet, as
_Patterson's Roads_ plainly informs us. Along this road you will find
several of the best specimens of old coaching inns in England. The
famous "George" at Huntingdon, the picturesque "Fox and Hounds" at
Ware, the grand old inns at Stilton and Grantham are some of the best
inns on English roads, and pleadingly invite a pleasant pilgrimage. We
might follow in the wake of Dick Turpin, if his ride to York were not
a myth. The real incident on which the story was founded occurred
about the year 1676, long before Turpin was born. One Nicks robbed a
gentleman on Gadshill at four o'clock in the morning, crossed the