After Kingsclere the country grew wilder, and presently crossing an extensive heath we dropped down into Newbury. I think it must have been market day there, for the streets of that pleasant town were thronged with carts and horses, to say nothing of pedestrians who would provokingly walk all over the roadway and not on the pavements. Some shouted to us, "Why don't you blow your horn?" and when we did others shouted, "Why do you keep blowing your horn; do you want all the road to yourself?" so we pleased no one, and made what haste we could to get out of the bustle, and to the London and Bath old mail road, smooth travelling and pleasant enough as far as Hungerford.
OLD TOLL-HOUSE ON BATH ROAD.
A little before Hungerford my curiosity was aroused by the sight of a lonely castellated building by the roadside which I stopped to photograph. Then a man appeared upon the scene: somehow whenever you start to take a photograph, even in apparently deserted places—and the highway there just then seemed deserted—some one is almost sure to put in an appearance. I asked the man about the building. "That were an old tollhouse," answered he; "it used to mark the half-way between London and Bath." "Does it not to-day?" I queried. The man made no reply. I have frequently found that certain country-folk are curiously averse to jokes, however mild or innocent those jokes may be; they seem afraid lest you are poking fun at them. Taking no heed of my query he continued, for your true-born countryman loves to talk: "Travelling by motor-car, I sees; wonderful things them motor-cars be, to be sure, and they do put on the pace on this bit of road, I reckon; make a regular railway of it, that's what us say; fortunately there baint many housen on it," and so forth for a good five minutes, whilst I packed up my camera, and was therefore a perforced listener. I was somewhat surprised to hear, preserved to this day, the old Saxon plural of "en" in the word "housen" (though we still retain it in men, women, children, and oxen); the so-termed Yankee "I reckon" did not surprise me much, as I have frequently heard it thus employed in country districts, in Sussex especially.
At Hungerford I noticed the ancient "Bear Inn" as we passed, and that is the only thing about the town that I can now remember: a comfortable-looking, time-mellowed, two-storied, old-fashioned building, a pleasing picture of a past-time coaching hostelry; now I believe its patrons are mostly motorists and anglers; for the latter there is a troutful river at hand, and troutful streams around. I noted two anglers with their rods leaning listlessly against the inn door, who looked as though they were on a lazy holiday bent, and that the wily trout must wait their turn. The town authorities still preserve an ancient horn inscribed as follows—by which horn they hold the right of fishing in the rivers and streams around—"I John a Gaunt doe giue and grant the riall of fishing to Hungerford toune, from Eldren Stub to Stil, excepting som seueral mil pond. Jehosphat Lucas, Constabl." A curious form of a deed of gift, that reminds one of the more famous Pusey horn, an even more ancient charter of rights. I fancy that name of "Jehosphat" for a constable; it has a genuinely ancient ring about it. Not being learned in old English script, I am not sure whether "riall" should read "right" or "royalty," but the intention of the sentence is clear.
A curious old-world custom, dating from about 1370, still prevails at Hungerford. I came upon an account of this in my morning paper, which I think of sufficient interest to quote here in full:
Hungerford was yesterday the scene of incidents reminiscent of the remote past. It was Hock-day, a day when Hungerford slips back into past centuries and revels in customs and privileges granted by John of Gaunt. One feature of the proceedings is the perambulation of the town by two "Tuttimen," represented on this occasion by Mr. F. Barnard and Mr. J. Tyler, whose interesting mission it is to kiss all women-folk and exact head-pence from men. Nor is the custom honoured only in the breach, with the result that the "Tuttimen" had a busy day. In exchange for kisses they give oranges.
Particularly busy were the "Tuttimen" at the workhouse, where they found the women-folk insistent on the due observation of their privilege. Another interesting scene occurred at the laundry, where the female employés, their hair gaily decked with primroses, paraded before the kissing men, who, by special charter, were instructed to be discreet in their choice, and selected two of each as the recipients of their salute.
While the "Tuttimen" were engaged in this mission the borough dignitaries, who form the Hocktide jury, were assembled in solemn conclave at the Court-house, whither they had been summoned in the early morning by blasts on John of Gaunt's historic horn. The ancient rules, regulations, and privileges were recited with due solemnity.