CÆSAR’S WELL.
Proceeding, we come to Keston Common, where “Cæsar’s Well” and the charming ponds near it may be sought, unhindered by the bean-feasters aforesaid, who do not roam far from the public-houses. Keston is thought to have been a Roman station on the old Watling Street, hence the name given, in allusive fashion, to the pool—frequently dry in summer—called Cæsar’s Well.
Bordering the Common is the “Fox Inn,” where, on the left hand, down in the hollow, are the twin settlements of “Paradise” and “Purgatory”—the first not particularly desirable, and the second, perhaps, the more preferable of the two. Purgatory is at the bottom of an extraordinarily steep road, which, if not indeed broad, certainly will lead the unwary to destruction. The two places are just groups of labourers’ cottages, and their names are their only remarkable feature.
Glance at the ugly “George Inn” on passing through Hayes. Its sign was painted, many years ago, by Sir John Millais, with a picture of the half-mythical “George and the Dragon” contest; but it hung outside, exposed to the weather, until it became faded, when a former landlord had it repainted, “as good as new,” by a "local artist"!
Through Hayes and Bromley there is a fine broad road, eminently suited for a speedy ending of this somewhat hilly run. Bromley Common, like the adjoining Commons of Keston and Hayes, may be overrun with the week-ender, but not even the raucous van-loads, yelling the latest “comic” songs, can succeed in vulgarising these healthy uplands. From Bromley it is desirable to proceed home by train.
IN OLD-WORLD ESSEX
Few cyclists know how old-world the neglected county of Essex really is. So unknown is this part of eastern England that its ill-earned reputation for flatness and want of interest has lasted since the first guide-book writer made the initial mis-statement until the present day. A great gulf separates the West-Ender and the Central Londoner from Essex; a gulf filled with crowded streets and rendered dangerous to the cyclist by the granite setts and tram-lines that characterise the main roads leading from Whitechapel to Bow, Stratford, Ilford, and Romford, beyond which last town only can the country be said to commence. Nor do railways afford so ready a means of intercourse between east and west as could be desired. For the sake, however, of seeing what kind of country this may be, let us, greatly daring, get on to the Great Eastern Railway at Liverpool Street, and take train to Chadwell Heath, following the course indicated by the sketch map. This gives a run of a little over twenty miles, and shows Essex in its most characteristic vein.