The name of the railway-station, on the other hand, is vulgarity itself. It is known as “Tub’s Hill,” to distinguish it from the other Sevenoaks station known (from the public-house outside) as “Bat and Ball.” Sevenoaks is greatly indebted to the South Eastern Railway for a matter quite outside railway accommodation. The town had long and vainly been seeking a good water-supply, and was still upon that quest when this branch of the South-Eastern was under construction in 1867. What the town wished to find, and could not, the contractors for the Riverhead Tunnel found, very much against their will. They struck a spring which for a time drowned them out and cost enormous sums to divert; but it gave to the town its present abundant supply. There can be no place with more divergent roads than those at the entrance to Sevenoaks. They branch off singly, in pairs and triply, acutely and gradually, and all with a specious artfulness leading the unwary anywhere but into the town, and by choice into suburban roads that presently end in wastes of shingle, heaps of building materials, and uncompleted houses. The old Sevenoaks of coaching days is mostly gone, or disguised out of recognition. There was then a “cage,” or lock-up, in the town, with a pond in front of it and a ducking-stool for nagging wives or scolding neighbours. There was also a toll-gate and a weigh-bridge, where heavy waggons paid according to their showing in tare and tret. Sevenoaks was, in short, fully equipped with the engines of civilisation as understood at that period. The “Chequers” inn, which still projects a somewhat old-fashioned front beyond the general building line, is a kind of “Jack o’ Both Sides,” for it has another, and quite different, frontage on to the parallel street. It was in those days the starting and arrival point of a coach to and from London, supported by a select few who had business in the metropolis, and from that circumstance was called the “United Friends.” Peacock, the coachman, was said to bear a striking resemblance to Tony Weller, which is not remarkable when we consider that Dickens constructed that plethoric, red-cheeked person from the typical stage-coachman of his age. There were then, in fact, “Tony Wellers,” like “Samivel’s” father, on every road. The coach was jointly owned by Benjamin Worthy Horne, John Stephens, and John Newman. [Illustration: SIGN OF THE “BLACKBOY” INN.]