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actually preferred to risk the dangers and suffer the certain discomforts of the then tedious sea voyage between those places, rather than face the possibility of meeting with Master Turpin—lord of the road from London to York! A driving tour would have afforded plenty of excitement in those days, though I shall ever maintain that adventures—and this from personal experiences of such with Indians, bears, and rattlesnakes, whilst exploring the wild forests and mountains of far-off California—are vastly better to read about than to experience. Adventures are excellent things to relate to your friends in after-dinner talk, if you can only get them to take you seriously!

Arriving at Barnet, we pulled up at the "Red Lion," and rested there to bait our horses. The sign of the inn—perhaps the most popular of all English signs—was not painted on a board and upheld by a post, as so frequently obtains in old-fashioned hostelries such as this; but the lion was carved in wood, and skilfully carved too, whilst to add to his dignity we found him rejoicing in a fresh coat of vermilion, and still further to attract the wayfarer's attention he was supported upon a wrought-iron bracket that projected right over the pavement. This sign, standing thus boldly aloft on its great bracket, was a point of interest in the everyday street for the eye to dwell upon—an interest emphasised by past-time associations, for thus, before the coming of the iron horse, had it greeted our inn-loving forefathers when journeying this way, and in a pleasantly defiant manner bade them stop and