On the top of Hampstead Heath, and situated in a most picturesque spot, is “Jack Straw’s Castle,” a little inn which has a reputation of its own. ’Tis said to be the highest point in the quarter, and though so close to town, has an antique and truly rustic air. The pleasant Hampstead mornings, with the keen air of those northern heights, the glimpses of cheerful old red-brick houses, the vicinity of Church Row, one of the most effective “bits” of old brick architecture in the country, the delightful undulations of the Heath, all make “Jack Straw’s Castle” a most acceptable hostelry, though John Sadleir was found hard by, with his silver poison cup lying some yards away. Readers of Forster’s “Life of Dickens” will recall the many rides of the novelist, accompanied by his “trusty” friend, to this inn, and the pleasant _tête-à-tête_ dinners that followed. Indeed, a pleasant volume might be made on “The History of Old Inns, and Those who Frequented Them.” One of the most famous is of course the “Red Lion” at Henley, where Johnson and Boswell stayed--Johnson, indeed, had a particular predilection for taverns. He was one of their most ardent votaries; he remains their most eloquent apologist. In the inn at Chapel-house, after “triumphing over the French for not having in any perfection the tavern life,” he went on to enlarge upon them in a discourse which has become historical. “There is no private house,” he declared, “in which people can enjoy themselves so well as at a capital tavern. Let there be ever so great plenty of good things, ever so much grandeur, ever so much elegance, ever so much desire that every body should be easy; in the nature of things it cannot be: there must always be some degree of care and anxiety. The master of the house is anxious to entertain his guests; the guests are anxious to be agreeable to him; and no man, but a very impudent dog indeed, can as freely command what is in another man’s house as if it were his own. Whereas, at a tavern there is a general freedom from anxiety. You are sure you are welcome; and the more noise you make, the more trouble you give, the more good things you call for, the welcomer you are. No servants will attend you with the alacrity which waiters do, who are incited by the prospect of an immediate reward in proportion as they please. No, Sir; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced, as by a good tavern or inn.” Thus did he discourse to Boswell; while to Hawkins he asserted that a tavern chair is the throne of human felicity. CHAPTER XVIII. TAVERNS.