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.
Dunstable is rattled through next, and then comes Fenny Stratford, Stony Stratford, Easton Neston, and then Lord Pomfret’s noble domain. Towcester comes next upon the list, and Weedon Barracks, where a view of the rail road presents itself.
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.
Aylesley Church is a very beautiful structure; and a little beyond is Packington Hall, the Mansion of Lord Aylesford.
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?”