All these things were the products of that old English tradition of good cheer and hospitality which lasted even some little way into the railway age. Journeys were cold, but hearts were warm, and the more rigorous your travelling the better your welcome. It would seem, and actually be, absurd to surround a modern arrival by railway with the circumstance that greeted the advent of the coach. In the bygone times the guest had no sooner alighted at his inn and proceeded to his room than a knock came at his door, and lo! on a tray a glass of the choicest port or cordial the house contained. To this day the courteous old custom survives at the “Three Tuns,” in Durham, whose traditional glass of cherry brandy is famous the whole length of the great road to the north. [Illustration: “ALL RIGHT!” THE BATH MAIL TAKING UP THE MAIL-BAGS. _From the contemporary lithograph._ ] For the little folks who travelled by coach, either with their own people or, like Tom Brown, in charge of the guard, warm motherly hearts beat in the bosoms of the stately landladies of the age, all courteous punctilio to their grown-up guests, but sympathy itself to the wearied youngsters. Such was Mrs. Botham, of the “Pelican,” at Speenhamland, on the Bath Road--that “Pelican” of whose “enormous bill” some waggish poet had sung at an early period. Mrs. Botham, an awesome figure--like Mrs. Ann Nelson, of the “Bull,” Whitechapel, dressed in black satin--unbent to the youngsters, for whom, indeed, she had always ready a packet of brandy-snaps. The earlier travellers were even more welcomed, not by the innkeepers alone, whose welcome was not altogether altruistic, but by the country folk in general.