The worst of it was, no one, even in these places of refuge, would take me in.  Yet, on this road, I met two farmers, the first of whom I asked whether he thought I could get a night’s lodging at a house which I saw at a distance, by the road side.  “Yes, sir, I daresay you may,” he replied.  But he was mistaken:  when I came there, I was accosted with that same harsh salutation, which though, alas, no longer quite new to me, was still unpleasing to my ears; “We have got no beds; you can’t stay here to-night.”  It was the same at the other inn on the road; I was therefore obliged to determine to walk on as far as Nettlebed, which was five miles farther, where I arrived rather late in the evening, when it was indeed quite dark.

Everything seemed to be all alive in this little village; there was a party of militia soldiers who were dancing, singing, and making merry.  Immediately on my entrance into the village, the first house that I saw, lying on my left, was an inn, from which, as usual in England, a large beam extended across the street to the opposite house, from which hung dangling an astonishing large sign, with the name of the proprietor.

“May I stay here to-night?” I asked with eagerness.  “Why, yes, you may;” an answer which, however cold and surly, made me exceedingly happy.

They showed me into the kitchen, and set me down to sup at the same table with some soldiers and the servants.  I now, for the first time, found myself in one of those kitchens which I had so often read of in Fielding’s fine novels; and which certainly give one, on the whole, a very accurate idea of English manners.

The chimney in this kitchen, where they were roasting and boiling, seemed to be taken off from the rest of the room and enclosed by a wooden partition; the rest of the apartment was made use of as a sitting and eating-room.  All round on the sides were shelves with pewter dishes and plates, and the ceiling was well stored with provisions of various kinds, such as sugar-loaves, black-puddings, hams, sausages, flitches of bacon, &c.

While I was eating, a post-chaise drove up, and in a moment both the folding-doors were thrown open and the whole house set in motion, in order to receive, with all due respect, these guests, who, no doubt, were supposed to be persons of consequence.  The gentlemen alighted, however, only for a moment, and called for nothing but a couple of pots of beer, and then drove away again.  Notwithstanding, the people of the house behaved to them with all possible attention, for they came in a post-chaise.

Though this was only an ordinary village, and they certainly did not take me for a person of consequence, they yet gave me a carpeted bedroom, and a very good bed.

The next morning I put on clean linen, which I had along with me, and dressed myself as well as I could.  And now, when I thus made my appearance, they did not, as they had the evening before, show me into the kitchen, but into the parlour, a room that seemed to be allotted for strangers, on the ground-floor.  I was also now addressed by the most respectful term, “sir;” whereas the evening before I had been called only “master”:  by this latter appellation, I believe, it is usual to address only farmers and quite common people.