Just as the coaching system had reached its highest perfection, the railway came and the coach vanished--more suddenly than the horse vehicle has disappeared from the Strand with the advent of the taxi-cab and motor omnibus. The landlord of the coaching inn and the posting-house found his occupation gone almost as abruptly as the guard and driver. Gone are all the coaching inns of London, although their names survive as receiving offices of the railway carriers. In country towns on the main roads, like Sittingbourne or Godalming, huge forlorn wrecks present their face to the roads converted into shops or tenements. Some of them continue to maintain a precarious existence in country villages like Buckden in Huntingdonshire, scarcely visited by the traveller of to-day, whereas seventy years ago their vast size was often insufficient to accommodate the daily arrivals of guests. They linger on in the hope that motorists may bring them a new popularity. Others, tired of empty rooms and dwindling local trade have retired into private life. At Caxton, on the old North Road, the _George_, a very large inn of a lonely country village, is now a comfortable private residence, and the old gateway arch would hardly be recognized in the French window opening on the front garden. [Illustration: Coach Gallery at the Bull, Long Melford] Gone are the old galleried yards. We do not know of one complete instance, except the little disused _Coach and Horses_ in York Street, Westminster, which is neither large nor beautiful. Fragments of galleries exist at the old _George Inn_ in the Borough, where they are in several stories; at the _George_ at Huntingdon; the _Golden Lion_ at St. Ives, and the _New Inn_ at Gloucester; but the finest remaining gallery is at the _Bull_ at Dartford. The _Bull_ at Long Melford owns a glazed gallery, running along the side of the yard next the inn, said to have served to facilitate the loading of luggage on the coaches. But in provincial towns the coaching inn is not quite left desolate; it is the place of departure and arrival for the carrier’s van. One need only search any local directory to discover the enormous number of these conveyances and the various inns from which they start. The rustic still prefers this method of travel to any other, and if the tourist is not in a hurry the box seat of a carrier’s cart is the ideal place from which to study rural affairs. The carrier knows everybody in the district and he is often a dry kind of philosopher, if not an archæologist or naturalist. Win his heart and he will divulge unexpected secrets, besides securing for you the most comfortable night’s lodging. His recommendation will prove a passport admitting into every grade of village society.