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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Canterbury Pilgrimage, by Joseph Pennell
+and Elizabeth Robins Pennell
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Canterbury Pilgrimage
+
+
+Author: Joseph Pennell and Elizabeth Robins Pennell
+
+
+
+Release Date: June 11, 2011  [eBook #36383]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
+Internet Archive (http://www.archive.org)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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+      See 36383-h.htm or 36383-h.zip:
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+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/canterburypilgri00penniala
+
+
+
+
+
+A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE
+
+This work is Copyright in England and America.
+
+
+A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE.
+
+Ridden, written, and illustrated by
+
+JOSEPH AND ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+London: Published by Seeley and Company,
+xlvi. xlvii. xlviii. Essex Street. Mdccclxxxv.
+
+
+
+
+  _TO_ Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson,
+
+  _We, who are unknown to him,
+  dedicate this record of one of our short
+  journeys on a Tricycle,
+  in gratitude for the happy hours we have spent
+  travelling with him and his Donkey._
+
+
+
+
+We do not think our book needs an apology, explanation, or preface; nor
+does it seem to us worth while to give our route-form, since the road from
+London to Canterbury is almost as well known to cyclers as the Strand, or
+the Lancaster Pike; nor to record our time, since we were pilgrims and not
+scorchers. And as for non-cyclers, who as yet know nothing of time and
+roads, we would rather show them how pleasant it is to go on pilgrimage
+than weary them with cycling facts.
+
+JOSEPH PENNELL.
+ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL.
+
+  36 BEDFORD PLACE,
+      _May 14th, 1885_.
+
+
+
+
+First Day
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Folk do go on Pilgrimage through Kent.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+It was towards the end of August, when a hot sun was softening the asphalt
+in the dusty streets of London, and ripening the hops in the pleasant land
+of Kent, that we went on pilgrimage to Canterbury. Ours was no ordinary
+journey by rail, which is the way latter-day pilgrims mostly travel. No.
+What we wanted was in all reverence to follow, as far as it was possible,
+the road taken by the famous company of bygone days, setting out from the
+hostelrie where these lordings lay one night and held counsel, making
+stations by the way at the few places they mention by name, and ending it,
+as they did, at the shrine of the 'holy, blissful martyr,' in the
+Canterbury Cathedral. How better could this be done than by riding over
+the ground made sacred by them on our tricycle?
+
+[Illustration: _Our only Race._]
+
+And so it came to pass that one close, foggy morning, we strapped our bags
+to our machine and wheeled out of Russell Square before any one was
+stirring but the policeman, making his last rounds and trying door after
+door. Down Holborn and past Staples' Inn, very grey and venerable in the
+pale light, and where the facetious driver of a donkey-cart tried to race
+us; past the now silent and deserted cloisters of Christ's Hospital, and
+under Bow Bells in Cheapside; past the Monument of the famous fire, and
+over London Bridge, where the mist was heavy on the river and the barges
+showed spectre-like through it, and where hucksters greeted us after their
+fashion, one crying, 'Go in, hind one! I bet on you. You'll catch up if
+you try hard enough!' and another, 'How are you there, up in the second
+story?' A short way up the Borough High Street, from which we had a
+glimpse of the old red roof and balustraded galleries of the 'White Hart;'
+and then we were at the corner where the 'Tabard' ought to be. This was to
+have been our starting-point; but how, it suddenly occurred to us for the
+first time, could we start from nothing? If ours had no beginning, would
+it be a genuine pilgrimage? This was a serious difficulty at the very
+outset. But our enthusiasm was fresh. We looked up at the old sign of
+'_Ye Old Tabard_,' hanging from the third story of the tall brick building
+which has replaced Chaucer's Inn. Here, at least, was something
+substantial. And we rode on with what good cheer we could.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Then we went for some distance over the Old Kent Road, which is laid with
+Belgian paving--invented, I think, for the confusion of cyclers, and where
+in one place a Hansom cab blocked the way. In endeavouring to pass around
+it our big wheel ran into the groove of the track, and we had to dismount
+and lift it out. The driver sat scowling as he looked on. If he had his
+way, he said, he would burn all _them things_. We came to Deptford, or
+West Greenwich, at half-past seven, the very hour when mine host and his
+fellows passed. So, in remembrance of them, we stopped a few minutes
+opposite a little street full of old two-storied houses, with tiled roofs
+and clustered chimney-pots and casement windows, overtopped by a distant
+church steeple, its outline softened in the silvery mist, for the fog was
+growing less as we journeyed onwards. At the corner was an Inn called the
+'Fountain,' and as a man who talked with us while we rested there said
+that an old fountain had stood in the open space near by, it pleased us to
+think that here had been one of the Waterings of Saint Thomas where
+pilgrims to the shrine made short halts, and that perhaps it was at this
+very spot that Davy Copperfield, a modern pilgrim who travelled the same
+road, had come to a stop in his flight from the young man with a
+donkey-cart. A little way out of Deptford we came to Blackheath, where
+sheep were peacefully grazing, rooks cawing overhead, and two or three
+bicyclers racing, and where a woman stopped us to say that 'That's the
+'ouse of Prince Harthur yander, and onst the Princess Sophia stayed in it
+on her way to Woolwich,' and she pointed to the handsome brick house to
+our left.
+
+[Illustration: The Pilgrims are Chased by Dogs.]
+
+After Blackheath the mist vanished, and the sun, gladdened by the sweet
+air, shone on the fields and woods, and the ugly barracks and pretty
+cottages by which we wheeled. Red-coated soldiers turned to look and dogs
+ran out to bark at us. In the meadows men and women leaned on their hoes
+and rakes to stare. From tiny gardens, overflowing with roses and
+sunflowers, children waved their delight. London was many miles behind
+when, at a few minutes before nine, we drew up on the bridge at Crayford.
+
+It seemed at first a sleepy little village. The only signs of life were on
+the bridge. Here about a dozen men were smoking their morning pipes, and
+as many boys were leaning over the wall, lazily staring into the river
+below, or at the cool stretches of woodland and shady orchards on the
+hillside beyond. But presently, as we waited, the village clock struck
+nine, and at once the loud bell in the factory on the other side of the
+little river Cray began to ring. One by one the older loungers knocked the
+ashes from their pipes and passed through the gate. The boys lingered. But
+their evil genius, in the shape of an old man in a tall white cap, came
+out, and at his bidding they left the sunshine and the river and hurried
+to work. A man with a cart full of shining onions went by, and we followed
+him up a hilly street, where the gabled and timbered cottages seemed to be
+trying to climb one over the other to reach a terrace of shining white
+houses at the top. The first of these was but one-storied, and its tall
+chimney-pot threw a soft blue shadow on the higher wall of the house next
+to it. On a short strip of ground which stretched along the terrace
+patches of cabbages alternated with luxuriant crops of weeds. In one place
+there were stalks of pink hollyhock and poles covered with vines, and in
+the windows above were scarlet geraniums. About them all there was a
+feeling of warmth and light, more like Italy than England. J. took out his
+sketch-book. Several women, startled by the novelty of strangers passing
+by, had come out and were standing in their small gardens. When they saw
+the sketch-book they posed as if for a photographer--all except one old
+woman, who hobbled down the street, talking glibly. Perhaps it was as well
+we did not hear what she said, for I think she was cursing us. When she
+was close at our side and turned, waving her hands to the other women, she
+looked like a great bird of ill-omen. 'Go in! go in!' she croaked: 'he's
+takin' of yere likenesses. That's wot he's arter!' Her wrath still fell
+upon us as we wheeled out of Crayford.
+
+[Illustration: Crayford, August 84]
+
+There were many pilgrims on the road; a few, like us, were on machines,
+but the greater number were on foot. As in Chaucer's day, both rich and
+poor go upon pilgrimage through Kent; but, whereas in his time there were
+monasteries and hospitals by the way where the latter were taken in at
+night, now they must find shelter under hedges or in dingles. Their lot,
+however, did not seem hard. It is sweet to lie beneath the sky now as it
+was when Daphnis sang. And the pilgrims whom we saw looked as if soft turf
+was luxury compared to the beds they had just left, for they belonged to
+the large army of hop-pickers who, every autumn, come from London to make
+the Kentish roads unsafe after dark and the householder doubly watchful.
+Whitechapel and other low quarters are nearly emptied at this season. It
+is pleasant to know that at least once a-year these people escape from
+their smoky, squalid streets, into green places where they can breathe
+pure air, but their coming is not welcomed in the country. Many poor,
+honest women in towns and villages thereabouts will rather lose a few
+shillings than let their children go to the hop-fields during the picking
+season, lest they should come away but too much wiser than they went. As
+we rode further the number of tramps increased; all the morning we passed
+and overtook them. There were grey-haired, decrepit men and women, who
+hobbled painfully along, and could scarcely keep pace with their more
+stalwart sons and daughters; there were children by the score, some of
+whom ran gaily on, forgetting fatigue for joy of the sunshine; others
+lagged behind, whimpering and weary; and still others were borne in their
+mothers' arms. Almost all these people were laden with their household
+goods and gods. They carried heavy bags thrown over their shoulders, or
+else baskets and bundles slung on their arms, and pots and kettles and all
+manner of household furniture. One man, more enterprising than the
+others, had brought a push-cart; when we saw it, two babies, almost hidden
+in a confused mass of clothing and pots and pans, were sleeping in it, and
+one clasped a kitten in her arms. Now, with a sharp bend in the road, we
+came suddenly upon a man sitting under a tree, who, though we rang our
+bell right in his ear, never raised his eyes from a hole in an old silk
+handkerchief he was holding; and now we came to a man and woman resting on
+a pile of stones by the roadside, who sat upright at the tinkling of our
+bell. I shall never forget the red and swarthy face of the woman as she
+turned and looked at us, her black hair, coarse and straight as an
+Indian's, hanging about her shoulders and over her eyes: she was
+unmistakably young in years but old in vice, and ignorant of all save
+evil--compared to hers an idiot's face would have been intelligent, a
+brute's refined. I could now understand why honest countrywomen kept
+their children from the hop-fields. As a rule, the tramps were as
+careless and jolly as Béranger's Bohemians, and laughed and made merry as
+if the world and its hardships were but jests. We, as figures in the
+farce, came in for a share of their mirth. 'That's right! ladies fust!'
+one old tattered and torn man called after us, gaily; 'that's the
+principle on which I allus hacts!' Which, I suppose, is a rough way of
+saying '_Place aux dames_.' A very little joke went a great way with them.
+'Clear the path!' another man cried to the women walking with him, as we
+coasted down the hill outside of Dartford: 'ere's a lady and gen'leman on
+a happaratus a-runnin' over us!' 'They're only a 'enjoyin' of 'emselves,'
+an old hag of the party added; 'so let luck go wi' 'em!' Then she laughed
+loud and long, and the others joined with her, and the sound of their
+laughter still reached our ears as we came into the village.
+
+[Illustration: _An Enterprising Pilgrim._]
+
+[Illustration: _An Indifferent Pilgrim._]
+
+[Illustration: _Unwelcome Pilgrims._]
+
+Dartford, from a cycler's point of view, is a long narrow street between
+two hills, one of which is good to coast, the other hard to climb. The
+place, as we saw it, was full of hucksters and waggons, and footmen and
+carriages, and we passed on without stopping, save by the river that runs
+near a church, with a tower and an unconventional clock looking out from
+one side instead of from the centre, which is the proper place for clocks.
+
+From Dartford to Gravesend the road became more pleasant every minute.
+Here and there were brown fields, where men were ploughing, or perhaps
+burning heaps of stubble, and sending pale grey clouds of smoke
+heavenwards; here and there were golden meadows where gleaners were busy,
+and then, perhaps, a row of tall, dark poplars, or a patch of brilliant
+cabbages. To the south, broad plains, where lazy, ease-loving cattle were
+grazing, stretched as far as the eye could see. To the north, every now
+and then, as the road turned, we saw the river, where ships were at
+anchor, and steamers were steaming up to London, and black barges, with
+dark-red sails, were floating down with the tide. The water was blue as
+the sky, and the hills in the distance seemed to melt into a soft purple
+mist hanging over them. By the road and by the river were many deep
+deserted quarries, whose white chalk cliffs could be seen from afar, while
+they brought out in strong contrast the red roofs of the cottages built at
+their feet. We came to one or two small villages and another church, with
+its tower and a clock awry, so that we wondered whether this was a fashion
+in Kent. And all along the hedges were white and pink with open
+morning-glories, and the trees threw soft shadows over the white road,
+and everywhere the air was sweet with the scent of clematis.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration: _Burning Stubble near Gravesend._]
+
+Gravesend is not a very striking place as you enter it from the road. It
+was to us remarkable chiefly for the Rosherville Gardens, which hitherto
+we had known only in our Dickens. But we found a pleasant 'ale-stake' by
+the river, where we rested to 'both drinke and biten on a cake;' or,
+rather, on substantial beefsteak and vegetables. There was no one else in
+the coffee-room, but one or two dogs strayed in from the private bar, and
+seeing we were at dinner became very sociable. The maid who waited on us
+was friendly too, and while J. was busy putting away the tricycle she was
+even moved to confide in me. She was the only maid in the house, she said.
+There had been another, but she had gone some time ago; 'and there's a
+jolly hard lot of work for one woman to do, ma'am,' she went on. 'I'm not
+used to it, and I can't stand it much longer. I've always been in a
+private before. It's easy enough to go from a private to a public, but to
+get from a public to a private again is another thing. Onst in a public is
+always in a public, ma'am!' Then some one called her. I was glad to have
+her go, for her way of telling her trouble had in it something of the
+Greek doctrine of fate, and so long as her eye was upon me I had an
+uncomfortable feeling, as if I were one of the instruments decreed from
+all time to work out her cheerless destiny. It was more agreeable to look
+out of the window on the little lawn in front, where two comfortable
+matrons were drinking beer, and a Blue-coat boy, home for the holidays,
+was running around, showing his orange legs to the best advantage. It was
+quiet on the river. Large steamers, small steam-tugs and row-boats, were
+lying at anchor. An old coastguard hulk was moored opposite, and an
+officer walked solemnly up and down the deck, every now and then halting
+to look through a spyglass for suspicious craft. But as we stood on the
+pier, after we had dined, the tide turned, and swiftly and silently all
+the boats turned with it. Tugs gave shrill whistles in warning of their
+speedy departure. Sail-boats unfurled their sails. Sailors came down the
+watersteps, leading from the houses built on high walls at the water's
+edge, and rowed quickly to the coastguard boat, saluted the solitary
+officer, and disappeared below. In the large P. and O. steamer, anchored
+at some distance from the pier, we could see the red turbans and white
+tunics of Lascars moving to and fro on the decks. The river was now as
+lively as it had before been quiet. But it monopolised the activity of the
+place, for when we went back for our tricycle we met only one or two
+seamen and a handful of children.
+
+[Illustration: _By the River at Gravesend._]
+
+When we set forth again the air was warm and sleep-inspiring. This,
+together with the consciousness of having well dined, it must be
+confessed, made us return to the pedals unwillingly. Not even the fact
+that a whole Sunday school, off for a picnic, waited to look at us, could
+stimulate us into speed. A sun-dial on a church tower just outside of
+Gravesend seemed to take us to task for our indolence. In large black
+letters on its white face it said--
+
+  'Be quick: your time's short!'
+
+But we knew better. Rochester was but seven miles off, and in Rochester we
+had made up our minds to sleep that night. The tramps had grown as lazy as
+we, but they did not even pretend to struggle with their laziness. All
+along the road we saw them lying under the hedges and in shady places.
+Some were asleep, others day-dreaming. Three women had roused themselves
+somewhat, and were making preparations for afternoon tea. They had kindled
+a fire by the wayside, and hung their kettle over it. A little further on,
+a mother and her children were just coming to the road from the deep,
+sweet shade of a dingle. On the hill beyond was a grey church, with a
+graveyard whose graves straggled down the hillside, and next to it a large
+farmhouse, with red roof and walls, whose colour was softened and
+harmonised by time. When the children saw we had stopped the machine they
+ran up at once to beg us to buy queer little round calico-balls, which
+they called pin-cushions. One had bright black eyes, and, not in the least
+discomfited by our refusal of the balls, danced merrily around the
+tricycle. Then she peered into J.'s sketch-book.
+
+[Illustration: _Afternoon Tea._]
+
+'He's drawrin!' she called to her mother, in a loud stage whisper.
+
+The latter bade her mind her manners. But she still continued her
+observations.
+
+'Oh, mother, it's the church!' was her next cry.
+
+'Which, I'm sure, it's a werry decent church,' the mother declared, as if
+to encourage us with her approval; and then they went their way.
+
+Later, when, as we were coasting down a hill, we overtook the party, the
+same child jumped and clapped her hands, 'It's goin' all by its lone
+self!' she screamed; but her sister trudged stolidly on, and spake never a
+word.
+
+Of the many places on the road to Canterbury, made famous by latter-day
+pilgrims, few are better known and loved than Gad's Hill, where honest
+Jack Falstaff performed his deeds of valour, and where Charles Dickens
+spent the last years of his life. We had counted upon making it, too, a
+station by the way. But whether it was that we were just then drifting
+along in lotus-eaters' fashion, our feet moving mechanically, or whether
+the prospect of another long coast made us forgetful of all else, certain
+it is that, with a glance of admiration at the dark spreading cedars, and
+another at the inn and its sign, adorned with the picture of Falstaff, we
+went by without a thought as to where we were. At the foot of the hill a
+baker told us that up yonder was the house where Mr. Dickens had lived.
+Were we already in danger of forgetting the aim of our pilgrimage? Would
+we sacrifice our great end for what we had intended to be but a means to
+it? 'Let us,' I said humbly, 'try to keep our wits from wool-gathering
+again, lest we ride through Rochester and Canterbury without knowing it!'
+We collected our thoughts in good time; for, lo! as mine host said to the
+monk, Rochester stands there hard by. Before many minutes we saw in the
+distance the town of Strood, and beyond it the broad Medway and Rochester,
+its castle and cathedral towering above the houses clustering about them.
+
+We stayed all night in Rochester. The early pilgrims went to the 'Crown.'
+But the 'Crown,' alas! stands no longer, and so we slept at the 'Queen's
+Head,' the C. T. C. headquarters. There is, somewhere in the city, the
+chapel where pious travellers of old stopped to pray, but we could not
+find it. The further we went the more it seemed as if we were in pursuit
+of a shadow. And, indeed, it was here that we discovered that even the
+road we had ridden over was not that along which mine host and his company
+had passed as they told their tales. There was no use, however, in our
+going back to London and starting out again, so as to take the right road;
+for, alas! it--that is, as far as Rochester--has gone the way of the
+Tabard and Crown. Only the yew-trees, planted at intervals along its
+course, survive to show where it once ran.
+
+After we had had our tea, we walked out in the twilight. The town deserves
+the name of Dulborough, given it by Dickens; and so, indeed, our little
+maid at the inn thought. There was nothing to do to amuse one's self, she
+said. She had been up to London for a month in the spring, and since then
+she couldn't abide Rochester.
+
+Having produced a Castle and ruined it, and a Cathedral and restored it,
+it has ever since rested on its laurels. We wandered a little way through
+the narrow twisting street, meeting only soldiers and a few young girls
+and men, and through the gabled gatehouse, where opium-eating Jasper
+lived; past the wonderful Norman doorway of the Cathedral and then to the
+Castle, where we rested awhile in the public garden the city has made
+around it. The pigeons had gone to roost, two or three women sat silently
+on the benches, a group of children played a singing game in the Pavilion.
+Away in the west, beyond the river, we could see the green and yellow
+fields and the poplars, radiant in the light of the afterglow; on the
+horizon, a dark windmill rose above the hillside like a sentinel on duty,
+and its long arms moved slowly around. It was even more peaceful down by
+the river: two men were pulling a long outrigger against the tide; a few
+heavy-laden barges floated up the stream with it. The figures of the men
+on board were silhouetted in black against the now fading western light.
+The red sails were furled and the masts slowly fell as the barges neared
+the bridge; noiselessly and swiftly they disappeared under the black
+arches. They seemed to carry with them all the sounds of the day; the
+silence of night came over the place, our voices sank lower, and we walked
+quietly back to the lonely street and to the Inn.
+
+
+
+
+Second Day
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Oh, what a Fall!
+
+
+
+
+Second Day
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+There was a little more stir in the place the next morning, but it was
+because it was filled with tramps, who were wisely taking advantage of the
+early coolness and hurrying on their way. But when we turned off the High
+Street the town was as still in the glare of day as it had been in the
+late twilight. The high brick walls of the private gardens might have
+enclosed dwelling-places of the dead rather than of the living, for not a
+sound came over them. The little pointed houses might have been sepulchres
+for all the signs of life they gave. The whole town, instead of one little
+street, should be called Tranquil Place. It seemed very characteristic
+that the Cathedral should be closed, and this at the season when the
+tourist is abroad in the land. It was being cleaned, an old man told us.
+We looked through the iron railing of the door into the nave, and at the
+marble floor, and the tall, white, rounded arches. 'It's like looking down
+the throat of Old Time!' Mr. Grewgious thought when he stood there. At
+the farther end by the chancel steps a charwoman was at work on bended
+knees. By her side was one small bucket. Here, truly, was a Liliputian set
+to do the work of Brobdignag. At that rate it is probable visitors were
+shut out for many months.
+
+After we had looked at the 'Bull,' which still reminds the public by a
+sign of the good beds enjoyed by Mr. Pickwick and his friends, at the Town
+Hall where Pip was apprenticed, at the many-gabled, lattice-windowed house
+in which Rosa Bud bloomed into young ladyhood, and were standing in front
+of the 'Six Poor Travellers'' lodging-place, reading the inscription over
+the door, and wondering who were the proctors classed with rogues who
+could not rest within, a benevolent Englishman passing that way fell upon
+us. He was a worthy fellow-citizen of Richard Watts. Seeing we were
+strangers, he, without waiting to be asked, bestowed upon us the charity
+of information.
+
+'Do you know what a Proctor is, Sir?' he asked, addressing himself to J.,
+who meekly, as befits one receiving alms, said that he did not. 'No! Well,
+then, I will tell you. It is a proc-u-ra-tor,--one who collects Peter's
+pence for the Pope, Sir. Richard Watts lived in the sixteenth century,
+when Protestantism made people feel bitterly, Sir, and he would have no
+friends of the Pope beneath his roof. Proc-u-ra-tor! That's what a Proctor
+is, Sir.'
+
+He had disappeared around the curve of the street before we had finished
+thanking him. As the information was new to us, I, with the common belief
+that others must be as ignorant as myself, now imitate his benevolence,
+and here bestow it in alms upon whoever may be in need of it.
+
+It was one o'clock when we mounted our tricycle and set out once more for
+Canterbury. The sky was still unclouded and the day warm, but a good
+breeze was blowing, and we were fresh for our ride. The streets of Chatham
+were as busy as those of Rochester were idle, and blocked with waggons, so
+that we had to fall in line and go at snail's pace. Once, with a sudden
+halt, we were brought so near a horse just in front, that my foot knocked
+against his leg; but he bore the blow stoically, as if he were used to
+Chatham streets. An American circus was about to start out on its grand
+street parade, and children hung about corners and out of windows. At the
+foot of the hill outside the town, and marked 'Dangerous' by the National
+Cyclists' Union, for the benefit of cyclers, two very small boys offered
+to 'Push it up, Sir!' but as it looked as if _it_ would push them down, we
+declined. At the top we met a cycler on his way from Canterbury, and he
+gave us evil tidings of the road. It became worse with every mile, he
+said, and it was heavy and hilly, and the dust was enough to stifle one.
+To this last statement his appearance bore good testimony.
+
+[Illustration: _The Marshes._]
+
+But at first we found it fair enough. From Chatham to Sittingbourne our
+journey was one of unmixed pleasure. The wheels went easily, and the wind
+blew on our backs. Now we passed on our right a vast treeless expanse,
+divided into squares of green, and golden, and brown, all shining softly
+in the sunlight, with here and there a windmill; but to the left we could
+see far below us the white line of the river winding between the flat
+grey marshes, where in Pip's day the escaped convicts prowled. Again we
+wheeled through small, sleepy villages, with church and tower half hidden
+in clumps of trees, and with red oasts, whose crooked cowls loomed up over
+the chimney-pots of the low cottages: for we had come to the hop country,
+and at every step the land of Kent grew fairer. Beyond Rainham the road
+lay between hop-gardens, as they are appropriately called, and
+cherry-orchards. In places the vines formed tall, shady hedges; in others
+the gardens were shut in by bare poles hung with coarse brown cloth, to
+defy the wind and the depredations of small boys, and other destructive
+animals: but the prettiest fields were those which were in no way hedged
+about, so that we could look down the long, narrow, green aisles, which
+seemed to lead to fields of light beyond. The vines twisted lovingly up
+the poles, which in many places bent beneath masses of green fruit, or
+else the topmost shoots crossed and intertwined from one pole to another,
+and the whole field was woven into a large arbour. Where the sunlight fell
+upon the green clusters it turned them to pure gold, and the leaves,
+blowing gently to and fro, seemed to rejoice in their great beauty. The
+cherry-orchards were so pretty and trim that I wondered if, like the
+hop-fields, they were not sometimes called gardens. The trees had been
+long stripped of their fruit, but their branches were well covered with
+cool green leaves, and their shadows met on the grass beneath. There was
+one in particular, before which we rested. Sheep were browsing placidly on
+the downy turf, and when we looked low down between the trees we could see
+the shining white river far in the distance. I half expected to hear a
+new Daphnis and Menalcas singing their pastorals in gentle rivalry.
+
+[Illustration: _A Cherry Orchard._]
+
+We met few people. The tramps who come down to Kent for the hop-picking
+turn off from Rochester to go to Maidstone, where the largest hop-fields
+are, and where there is more chance for them to be hired; but a
+comparatively small number go on to Canterbury. Some cyclers were making
+the most of the fine day. As we sat idly between the hop-gardens three
+passed us. Two rode a tandem; the third, a bicycle; but they were of the
+time-making species, for whom the only beauty of a ride is that of speed.
+Looking at them, and then at the sheep in a field beyond, I thought the
+latter were having the best of it. A little further on we met a party of
+three Frenchmen. One rode ahead on a bicycle, the two others followed on a
+tandem like ours. One of the latter, when he saw us, called out to the
+bicycler, '_C'est bon d'aller comme ça!_' I suppose he thought we should
+not understand him, and if we did--well, ought not a Frenchman always to
+be gallant?
+
+[Illustration: A Kentish Pastoral.]
+
+We rode on with light hearts. An eternity of wheeling through such perfect
+country and in such soft sunshine would, we thought, be the true earthly
+paradise. We were at peace with ourselves and with all mankind, and J.
+even went so far as to tell me I had never ridden so well!
+
+It was, then, in a happy frame of mind, that we reached the inn at
+Sittingbourne. It was an unassuming place, but quiet and clean; the bar
+was on one side of the hall, the coffee-room on the other. The latter was
+empty, and the landlady, after laying the cloth for our bread and cheese
+and shandy-gaff--of all drinks the most refreshing to the cycler--left us
+alone to study this printed notice, which hung in a frame over the door:--
+
+  'Call frequently,
+  Drink moderately,
+  Pay honourably,
+  Be good company,
+  Part friendly,
+  Go home quietly.'
+
+We soon had the opportunity of putting into practice one clause of this
+advice, for the door was suddenly burst open, and a short man with a bald
+head, who wore the Cyclists' Touring Club uniform, rushed in.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+'Are you the lady and gentleman that came on the tandem?' he asked, before
+he was quite in the room.
+
+We said we were.
+
+'I don't like tandems, do you?' he continued, fiercely, as if he were
+daring us to differ from him. He seemed to think we had come there that he
+might tell us his grievances; which he did, with much elaboration, while
+we ate our lunch. He and his wife had been down to Margate from London,
+and were now on their way back, he said. They had made the trip on a
+tandem; it was the first time he had ridden one, and it would be the last,
+for he didn't like tandems--they were horrid things! Did we like tandems?
+To avoid repetition, I may here mention that this expression of dislike,
+together with the query as to our opinion, was the refrain to everything
+he said. It was always given with the same interest and emphasis as if it
+were an entirely original remark. The only variation he made was by
+sometimes beginning with the statement, and at others with the question.
+He explained the reasons for his dislike. The principal was, that the
+people one met on the roads always insulted riders on a tandem. Why, he
+had been off his machine a dozen times that morning, fighting men who had
+been chaffing him! I thought, with a shudder, of the crowd of hucksters
+J. would have had to fight by London Bridge, had he been of the same mind.
+Then, the next objection was, that he had to sit behind his wife--she had
+to steer, and he would not be surprised if he were seriously injured, or
+even killed, before he got back to London. Women were heedless things, and
+easily frightened. His wife, who had joined us a few minutes before, here
+grew angry, and a slight skirmish of words followed between them: she
+reminded him of the dangers they had escaped through her nerve and
+skill; he recalled the dangers into which they had run owing to her
+thoughtlessness and timidity. But, just at this point of the discussion J.
+took out his watch. At sight of it the little man forgot his anger to
+pounce upon it, with never as much as 'An it please you!' Then, looking up
+in triumph, he exclaimed, 'I knew it! it's an American watch! They know
+how to make watches over there, but they're ruining our trade.' Then he
+explained that he was a London watchmaker, and he pulled out of his pocket
+a large substantial specimen of his workmanship.
+
+The talk now turning upon America, we told him, in answer to his
+inquiries, that we were Americans.
+
+'From Canada?' his wife asked.
+
+'Oh, no!' I answered; 'from Philadelphia.'
+
+'Dear me!' the watchmaker said; 'then you're _real_ Americans! But you
+speak English very well!'
+
+'Yes,' J. admitted, modestly. 'But then, you know, English is sometimes
+spoken in our part of the world!'
+
+All this made the fierce little cycler very friendly, and he next wanted
+to know where we were going.
+
+'To Canterbury,' we said.
+
+'To Canterbury!' he cried; and then, to give greater force to his words,
+he came and stood directly in front of us on the other side of the table.
+'To Canterbury! Well, then, my advice to you is, if you have no other
+object than pleasure, don't go! No, don't you go! I've been there, and I
+know what I say. It's a rotten place. There's nothing in it but an old
+cathedral and a lot of old houses and churches, and they charged me
+sixpence for keeping my tandem one night. I don't like tandems-horrid
+things! Do you like tandems? Yes, it's a rotten place, and if I had my way
+I'd raze it to the ground!'
+
+I now understand why it is that Mr. Matthew Arnold thinks the average
+Briton so very terrible.
+
+By this time we had finished our lunch, and were ready to start. The
+watchmaker and his wife had engaged in another battle. She did not agree
+with him in his opinion of Canterbury. Indeed I believe they did not
+agree upon any one subject, and the tandem had tried their tempers. They
+had both said they wanted to see us off, and to compare machines; but we,
+being modest people, thought we would as lieve escape without their
+comments and farewells. This seemed a favourable opportunity. In the heat
+of the argument we left the room and paid our bill, without their noticing
+our retreat; but just as we had mounted our tricycle, and were wheeling
+softly away, we heard a voice calling, 'Oh, I say now! do come back a
+minute: I want to show you my machine!' It would have been more than
+uncivil to have refused, so we sat patiently while the much-abused tandem
+was brought out. The owner, in his pride, rode out on it, pedalled by us,
+and then wheeled round and faced us with an abruptness that fairly took
+away our breath. It was the shortest turn I have ever seen, and I waited
+for the end with the same uncertainty with which one watches a trapeze
+performance. Then there was some little talk about bells and brakes, and
+tyres and saddles. In the meantime the landlady, with two or three of her
+friends, had come out, and was staring at us with a curiosity for which I
+could not account. But presently she said, 'Are you going back soon?' And
+then I knew she had heard we were Americans, and had come to have a look
+at these strange people who had sailed across the sea, apparently for no
+other reason than to test the cycling properties of the roads of Kent.
+After this exhibition was over we said good-bye very pleasantly, and rode
+off, followed by their wishes for our good luck, while the watchmaker
+called out encouragingly, 'You Americans ride pretty well; but I don't
+like tandems. Horrid things! Do you like tandems?'
+
+But their wishes were the only good luck we met with. We had not gone far
+from Sittingbourne, when we admitted that the pilgrim we had met just
+outside of Chatham was no false prophet after all; for the road now began
+to be heavy with sand and rough with flints. And oh, the hills! They were
+not very steep, but I was a novice in cycling. No sooner were we on
+up-grades than I exhausted myself by my vigorous back-pedalling. I have
+heard the uninitiated say that tricycling must be _so_ easy, just like
+working the velocipedes of our childhood. But let them try! The country
+had lost none of its beauty. Fields were as green and golden, orchards as
+shady, and sheep as peaceful, as those we had seen before lunch. There
+were little churches on hilltops and pretty dingles by the wayside;
+handsome country-houses with well-kept lawns, and fields where cricketers
+were playing, and young girls in gay-coloured dresses were applauding;
+and there were old-fashioned farm-houses and quaint inn-yards. We passed
+through villages by which little quiet rivers ran, some with boats lying
+by the shore, and others, as at Ospringe, where horses and waggons were
+calmly driven through the water. But the heaviness had spread from the
+road to my heart, and all joyousness had gone from me.
+
+[Illustration: _A Farmhouse near Rochester._]
+
+[Illustration: _A Little River._]
+
+The worst of it was, that as the road here wound little, we could see it
+miles ahead--a white perpendicular line on the purple hill which bounded
+the horizon. We knew this must be Boughton Hill, the fame of whose
+steepness has gone abroad in the cycling world. With the knowledge of what
+was to come ever before me, I began to pedal so badly that J. told me so
+very plainly, and said, moreover, that I was more of a hindrance than a
+help to him. For some time we rode on very silently. Earlier in the
+afternoon we had been passed by a man driving an empty carriage, of whom
+we had asked one or two questions. He had stopped to watch the
+cricket-match, but he now overtook us, and, to add to my misery, asked me
+if I would not like him to drive me into Canterbury. All this was hard to
+bear.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Finally, we came to Boughton, a small village with ivy-grown houses and a
+squirrel and a dolphin staring at each other amicably from rival inns. It
+is right at the foot of Boughton Hill. Now that we were near it, the white
+line we had seen for so long widened into a broad road, but it looked no
+less perpendicular. It was here that Chaucer's pilgrims
+
+                      'gan atake
+  A man that clothed was in clothes blake,
+  And undernethe he wered a white surplis.'
+
+There is no record that mine host and the Chanones Yeman dismounted and
+walked to rest their horses. But all the many waggons and carriages and
+cycles we saw above us on the modern road were being led, not driven.
+Halfway up was an old lumbering stage, with boxes piled on the top, and
+big baskets and bundles swinging underneath. The driver was walking; but a
+tramp, who had made believe to push when on level ground, now sat
+comfortably on the backseat, taking his ease. A little lower was the
+friendly driver with his empty carriage, for he had rested at the
+'Squirrel,' and so we had caught up to him again. At the top we looked
+back to see that the West was a broad sea of shining light. A yellow mist
+hung over the plain, softening and blending its many colours. Far off to
+the north the river glittered and sparkled, and a warm glow spread over
+the green of the near hillsides. The way in front of us was grey and
+colourless by comparison. It was almost all down-hill after this. Did I
+want to be driven into Canterbury, indeed? My benevolent friend might now
+have asked us to pull him in. The stage made a show of racing us, but we
+gave it only a minute's chance. An officer in braided coat driving a drag
+passed us triumphantly while we were on our up-grade; but when we came
+again to a level we left him far behind.
+
+  'Wete ye not wher stondeth a litel toun,
+  Which that ycleped is Bob up-and-doun,
+  Under the blee in Canterbury way?'
+
+It is better known now as Harbledown. A little of our trouble here came
+back, for the road leading to that part of it 'ycleped Bob-up,' was steep
+and heavy, and we had to walk. To our right were the old red-brick
+almshouses and the little church of St. Michael, one of the many oldest
+churches in Kent, and of which all we could see was the ivy-covered tower.
+It was here that Henry, when on his way to the holy shrine, dismounted,
+that, as became his humble calling of pilgrim, he might walk into
+Canterbury. And it was here, too, that the Person began his long-winded
+discourse. But we, less reverent than King Henry, now mounted again; and,
+less phlegmatic than the Person, we held our peace. For as we rode further
+up we heard far-away chimes, just as Erasmus did when he went from
+Harbledown; and there gradually rose before us a tall, grey tower, then
+two more, and at last, as we reached the top of the hill, we saw in the
+plain below the great Cathedral itself, standing up far above the low red
+roofs of Canterbury. We were almost at our goal.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A little further on we passed a hop-field, where the picking had already
+begun. In one part the poles were stripped of their vines, so that it
+looked as if the farmer had reaped for his sowing a crop of dead
+sticks. In the other the poles were still green, but the day's work was
+just over. Women were packing up kettles and pans, jugs and bottles, and
+stowing babies and bundles into perambulators, while two or three men were
+going the rounds with bag and basket, measuring the day's picking, and
+marking off the account of each picker by notching short, flat pieces of
+wood held up for the purpose. In the road beyond a large cart, packed with
+well-filled bags, was being drawn homewards by three horses, while a young
+man rode up and down the green aisles. 'I beg your pardon, Sir,' a farm
+hand said to J., who had been sketching, 'but you've been takin' some of
+our people, and now you hought to take our Guvnor on his 'oss;' and he
+pointed to the young man. All the way into the town we passed groups of
+pickers: women with large families of children, small boys with jugs and
+coats hung over their shoulders, and young girls with garlands of hops
+twisted about their hats, and all were as merry as if they had been on a
+picnic. We saw them still before us, even after we had turned into Saint
+Dunstan's Street, from which the gold of the afterglow was fast fading,
+and were riding between the quaint, gabled houses, through whose
+diamond-paned windows lights were beginning to appear. Before us was the
+old, grey-towered city gate, through which royal and ecclesiastical
+processions and knights and nobles once passed, but where we now saw only
+the tramps who had arrived at the eleventh hour sitting at its foot with
+their bags and baggage.
+
+[Illustration: Westgate from without.]
+
+We 'toke' our inn at the sign of the 'Falstaff,' without the gate. Honest
+Jack, in buff doublet and red hose, hanging between the projecting windows
+and far out over the pavement by a wonderful piece of wrought-iron work,
+gave us welcome, and within we found rest and good cheer for weary
+pilgrims. Then we 'ordeyned' our dinner wisely, but it was too late to go
+to the Cathedral that same evening, as we should have liked to have done,
+and we were forced to wait for the morrow. After we had come downstairs
+from our dimity-curtained bed-chamber, had dined, and were sitting over
+our tea in a little, low-ceilinged room, from whose window we looked into
+a pretty garden of roses and grapevines, a stranger sent us greeting, and
+asked if he might come and sit with us. He was a priest, also making
+pilgrimage, who had ridden from Rochester on a machine like ours; so that
+we became friendly forthwith, and, like the pilgrims who rested at the
+'Chequers of the Hope,' every man of our party
+
+          'in his wyse made hertly chere,
+  Telling his felowe of sportys and of chere,
+  And of other mirthis that fellen by the way,
+  As custom is of pilgrims and hath been many a day.'
+
+And just before we parted for the night we held counsel together and
+agreed that, in the morning, we would in company visit the holy shrine.
+
+
+
+
+Third Day
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A Tale of the Verger.
+
+
+
+
+Third Day
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+We rose early the next day, and, that we might be in all possible things
+like the men in whose steps we were walking, we 'cast on fresher gowns'
+before we started to walk through the town. Then, after we had
+breakfasted, we set out with our new friend for the Cathedral. Our way led
+through the gate, on which the sun shone brightly, and where tramps were
+still waiting to be hired; and then through the High Street, filled with
+other pilgrims, who spake divers tongues, who wore not sandal, but canvas
+shoon, and who had their 'signys' in their hands and upon their 'capps,'
+for many had puggarees about their hats, and still more carried red
+guide-books. The air was warm, but fresh and pure as if the sea-breeze had
+touched it; and the gables and carvings of the old houses were glowing
+with sunlight. The reflection of the red roofs and of geraniums and
+hollyhocks in gardens by the way made bright bits of colour in among the
+tall reeds of the little river Stour, and as we went slowly along we
+talked, as befitted the occasion, of bygone times, for at every step we
+were reminded of those earlier travellers whose humble followers we were.
+Here we came to the Hospital of St. Thomas, now an almshouse, of old the
+place where poor pilgrims found shelter; and here, in the ground-floor of
+a haberdasher's shop, we saw a few arches of what was once the
+'Chequers of the Hope,' where the rich were lodged; and so, when in
+Mercery Lane, where the houses almost met above in a friendly,
+confidential way, we saw a man in cocked-hat and knee-breeches and much
+gold lace, it seemed as if he, like everything else in Canterbury, must be
+a relic of the olden time.
+
+[Illustration: _Waiting to be Hired._]
+
+[Illustration: On the Stour.]
+
+'I must know who that fellow is!' the priest exclaimed; and, without more
+ado, walked up to him and boldly addressed him thus: 'Ahem!--I say
+now--who are you, any way?'
+
+And the man, in his wonder, forgot to take offence, and answered, 'Why I,
+Sir, am the town crier!'
+
+Talk of Yankee cheek indeed!
+
+Then we went on down the lane, past the round marketplace, where women
+were selling sweets, and under the stone gateway with its time-worn
+tracery, to the south porch of the Cathedral, where a tricycle was
+standing. As the pilgrims had to pray before they could approach the
+sacred tomb, so we, after we had entered the nave, had to wait and listen
+to morning service. Then we were told that no one could go to the shrine
+unless led thither by the verger. There was nothing to do but to fall into
+the ranks of a detachment of tourists on their way to it. With them we
+were marshalled through the iron gate, separating the choir from the
+chapels, by a grey-bearded, grey-haired man, who kept his eye sternly
+upon us as we deposited our sixpences, our modest offerings in place of
+'silver broch and ryngis.'
+
+'Where is the shrine?' we asked, as soon as we were on the other side of
+the gate.
+
+'The shrine which it lies but a few steps further on,' the verger
+answered; 'and you will come to it in good time.'
+
+Then he showed us the 'horgan and its pipes, which they lie in the
+triforium,' and the 'Norman Chapel of Saint Hanselm, which it is the
+holdest part of the building,' and about all of which he had much to say.
+But we interrupted him quickly. 'Take us to the shrine,' we commanded. But
+just then another tourist, eager for information, began to ask questions
+not only about the Cathedral, but about the whole city. Before we knew
+where we were, she had carried us all out to Harbledown, and then, without
+stopping, whisked us off to Saint Martin's-on-the-Hill. This was too much.
+We started to find the shrine for ourselves, but our friend the priest ran
+after us.
+
+'You must wait for the verger,' he said. 'I hope you don't mind my telling
+you; but then, you know, you're Americans, and I thought you mightn't
+understand.'
+
+[Illustration: Canterbury, from the river.]
+
+His interest by degrees extended from us to the rest of the party. By some
+peculiar method of reasoning he had concluded that, because we were
+Americans, all who were following the verger, except himself, must be so
+likewise. Every now and then he would dart from our side to ask each one
+in turn, in a gentle whisper, 'You're an American, are you not?' The
+results were not always satisfactory. I saw one Englishman, with John Bull
+written in every feature, glare at him in suppressed rage; while a lady,
+after saying, rather savagely, 'Well, is there any harm in being one?'
+dismissed him abruptly, as if to remind him that not she, but the
+Cathedral, was the show.
+
+The verger lingered on the broad stairway, 'which the pilgrims they
+mounted it on their knees, as is seen by the two deep grooves in the stone
+steps.' He stood long by the tomb of Prince Hedward, the Black Prince, and
+when we came to the stone chair used only when archbishops are
+consecrated, he deliberately stopped, to suggest that some lady might like
+to sit in it, 'though which it won't make her a harchbishop,' he added.
+Then at last he led us to the chapel just beyond, and close to the choir.
+He waited until we had all followed and formed a semicircle around him,
+then he pointed to the pavement,--
+
+'Which now,' he said, solemnly, 'you have come to the shrine of the
+saintly Thomas.'
+
+We had reached our goal. We stood in the holy place for which Monk and
+Knight, Nun and Wife of Bath, had left husbands and nunnery, castle and
+monastery, and for which we had braved the jests and jeers of London
+roughs, and had toiled over the hills and struggled through the sands of
+Kent. Even the verger seemed to sympathise with our feelings. For a few
+moments he was silent; presently he continued--
+
+''Enery the Heighth, when he was in Canterbury, took the bones, which they
+was laid beneath, out on the green, and had them burned. With them he took
+the 'oly shrine, which it and bones is here no longer!'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Shrine and Tabard, Chapels and Inns by the way, all have gone with the
+pilgrims of yester-year.
+
+
+_FINIS._
+
+
+  _London: Printed by_ STRANGEWAYS & SONS,
+  _Tower Street, Upper St. Martin's Lane._
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE***
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Canterbury Pilgrimage, by Joseph Pennell and Elizabeth Robins Pennell</title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+
+    p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+
+    body {margin-left: 12%; margin-right: 12%;}
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+    .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right; font-style: normal;}
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+</head>
+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Canterbury Pilgrimage, by Joseph Pennell
+and Elizabeth Robins Pennell</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: A Canterbury Pilgrimage</p>
+<p>Author: Joseph Pennell and Elizabeth Robins Pennell</p>
+<p>Release Date: June 11, 2011  [eBook #36383]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br />
+    from page images generously made available by Internet Archive<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.archive.org">http://www.archive.org</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive. See
+      <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/canterburypilgri00penniala">
+      http://www.archive.org/details/canterburypilgri00penniala</a>
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><span class="gigantic">A Canterbury Pilgrimage</span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/printer.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><i>This work is Copyright in England and America.</i></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="huge">A Canterbury<br />Pilgrimage.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="large">Ridden, written, and illustrated<br />
+by Joseph and Elizabeth Robins Pennell.</span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><strong>London: Published by Seeley and Company,<br />
+xlvi. xlvii. xlviii. Essex Street. Mdccclxxxv.</strong></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><i>TO</i><br />
+<span class="large">Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson,</span><br />
+<i>We, who are unknown to him,<br />
+dedicate this record of one of our short<br />
+journeys on a Tricycle,<br />
+in gratitude for the happy hours we have spent<br />
+travelling with him and his Donkey.</i></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+
+<div class="note">
+<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">We</span> do not think our book needs an apology, explanation, or preface; nor
+does it seem to us worth while to give our route-form, since the road from
+London to Canterbury is almost as well known to cyclers as the Strand, or
+the Lancaster Pike; nor to record our time, since we were pilgrims and not
+scorchers. And as for non-cyclers, who as yet know nothing of time and
+roads, we would rather show them how pleasant it is to go on pilgrimage
+than weary them with cycling facts.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Joseph Pennell</span>.<br />
+<span class="smcap">Elizabeth Robins Pennell</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">36 <span class="smcap">Bedford Place</span>,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>May 14th, 1885</i>.</span></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+<h2>First Day</h2>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img01.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><span class="large">Folk do go on Pilgrimage through Kent.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img02.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="gigantic">A<br />CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE</span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img03.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">It</span> was towards the end of August, when a hot sun was softening the asphalt
+in the dusty streets of London, and ripening the hops in the pleasant land
+of Kent, that we went on pilgrimage to Canterbury. Ours was no ordinary
+journey by rail, which is the way latter-day pilgrims mostly travel. No.
+What we wanted was in all reverence to follow, as far as it was possible,
+the road taken by the famous company of bygone days, setting out from the
+hostelrie where these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> lordings lay one night and held counsel, making
+stations by the way at the few places they mention by name, and ending it,
+as they did, at the shrine of the &#8216;holy, blissful martyr,&#8217; in the
+Canterbury Cathedral. How better could this be done than by riding over
+the ground made sacred by them on our tricycle?</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img04.jpg" alt="Our only Race." /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>And so it came to pass that one close, foggy morning, we strapped our bags
+to our machine and wheeled out of Russell Square before any one was
+stirring but the policeman, making his last rounds and trying door after
+door. Down Holborn and past Staples&#8217; Inn, very grey and venerable in the
+pale light, and where the facetious driver of a donkey-cart tried to race
+us; past the now silent and deserted cloisters of Christ&#8217;s Hospital, and
+under Bow Bells in Cheapside; past the Monument of the famous fire, and
+over London Bridge, where the mist was heavy on the river and the barges
+showed spectre-like through it, and where hucksters greeted us after their
+fashion, one crying, &#8216;Go in, hind one! I bet on you. You&#8217;ll catch up if
+you try hard enough!&#8217; and another, &#8216;How are you there, up in the second
+story?&#8217; A short way up the Borough High Street, from which we had a
+glimpse of the old red roof and balustraded galleries of the &#8216;White Hart;&#8217;
+and then we were at the corner where the &#8216;Tabard&#8217; ought to be. This was to
+have been our starting-point; but how, it suddenly occurred to us for the
+first time, could we start from nothing? If ours had no beginning, would
+it be a genuine pilgrimage? This was a serious difficulty at the very
+outset.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> But our enthusiasm was fresh. We looked up at the old sign of
+&#8216;<i>Ye Old Tabard</i>,&#8217; hanging from the third story of the tall brick building
+which has replaced Chaucer&#8217;s Inn. Here, at least, was something
+substantial. And we rode on with what good cheer we could.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img05tmb.jpg" alt="" /><br />
+<a href="images/img05.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>Then we went for some distance over the Old Kent Road, which is laid with
+Belgian paving&mdash;invented, I think, for the confusion of cyclers, and where
+in one place a Hansom cab blocked the way. In endeavouring to pass around
+it our big wheel ran into the groove of the track, and we had to dismount
+and lift it out. The driver sat scowling as he looked on. If he had his
+way, he said, he would burn all <i>them things</i>. We came to Deptford, or
+West Greenwich, at half-past seven, the very hour when mine host and his
+fellows passed. So, in remembrance of them, we stopped a few minutes
+opposite a little street full of old two-storied houses, with tiled roofs
+and clustered chimney-pots and casement windows, overtopped by a distant
+church steeple, its outline softened in the silvery mist, for the fog was
+growing less as we journeyed onwards. At the corner was an Inn called the
+&#8216;Fountain,&#8217; and as a man who talked with us while we rested there said
+that an old fountain had stood in the open space near by, it pleased us to
+think that here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> had been one of the Waterings of Saint Thomas where
+pilgrims to the shrine made short halts, and that perhaps it was at this
+very spot that Davy Copperfield, a modern pilgrim who travelled the same
+road, had come to a stop in his flight from the young man with a
+donkey-cart. A little way out of Deptford we came to Blackheath, where
+sheep were peacefully grazing, rooks cawing overhead, and two or three
+bicyclers racing, and where a woman stopped us to say that &#8216;That&#8217;s the
+&#8217;ouse of Prince Harthur yander, and onst the Princess Sophia stayed in it
+on her way to Woolwich,&#8217; and she pointed to the handsome brick house to
+our left.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img06.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><strong>The Pilgrims are Chased by Dogs.</strong></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>After Blackheath the mist vanished, and the sun, gladdened by the sweet
+air, shone on the fields and woods, and the ugly barracks and pretty
+cottages by which we wheeled. Red-coated soldiers turned to look and dogs
+ran out to bark at us. In the meadows men and women leaned on their hoes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
+and rakes to stare. From tiny gardens, overflowing with roses and
+sunflowers, children waved their delight. London was many miles behind
+when, at a few minutes before nine, we drew up on the bridge at Crayford.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed at first a sleepy little village. The only signs of life were on
+the bridge. Here about a dozen men were smoking their morning pipes, and
+as many boys were leaning over the wall, lazily staring into the river
+below, or at the cool stretches of woodland and shady orchards on the
+hillside beyond. But presently, as we waited, the village clock struck
+nine, and at once the loud bell in the factory on the other side of the
+little river Cray began to ring. One by one the older loungers knocked the
+ashes from their pipes and passed through the gate. The boys lingered. But
+their evil genius, in the shape of an old man in a tall white cap, came
+out, and at his bidding they left the sunshine and the river and hurried
+to work. A man with a cart full of shining onions went by, and we followed
+him up a hilly street, where the gabled and timbered cottages seemed to be
+trying to climb one over the other to reach a terrace of shining white
+houses at the top. The first of these was but one-storied, and its tall
+chimney-pot threw a soft blue shadow on the higher wall of the house next
+to it. On a short strip of ground which stretched along the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> terrace
+patches of cabbages alternated with luxuriant crops of weeds. In one place
+there were stalks of pink hollyhock and poles covered with vines, and in
+the windows above were scarlet geraniums. About them all there was a
+feeling of warmth and light, more like Italy than England. J. took out his
+sketch-book. Several women, startled by the novelty of strangers passing
+by, had come out and were standing in their small gardens. When they saw
+the sketch-book they posed as if for a photographer&mdash;all except one old
+woman, who hobbled down the street, talking glibly. Perhaps it was as well
+we did not hear what she said, for I think she was cursing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> us. When she
+was close at our side and turned, waving her hands to the other women, she
+looked like a great bird of ill-omen. &#8216;Go in! go in!&#8217; she croaked: &#8216;he&#8217;s
+takin&#8217; of yere likenesses. That&#8217;s wot he&#8217;s arter!&#8217; Her wrath still fell
+upon us as we wheeled out of Crayford.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img07.jpg" alt="Crayford, August 84" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>There were many pilgrims on the road; a few, like us, were on machines,
+but the greater number were on foot. As in Chaucer&#8217;s day, both rich and
+poor go upon pilgrimage through Kent; but, whereas in his time there were
+monasteries and hospitals by the way where the latter were taken in at
+night, now they must find shelter under hedges or in dingles. Their lot,
+however, did not seem hard. It is sweet to lie beneath the sky now as it
+was when Daphnis sang. And the pilgrims whom we saw looked as if soft turf
+was luxury compared to the beds they had just left, for they belonged to
+the large army of hop-pickers who, every autumn, come from London to make
+the Kentish roads unsafe after dark and the householder doubly watchful.
+Whitechapel and other low quarters are nearly emptied at this season. It
+is pleasant to know that at least once a-year these people escape from
+their smoky, squalid streets, into green places where they can breathe
+pure air, but their coming is not welcomed in the country. Many poor,
+honest women in towns and villages<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> thereabouts will rather lose a few
+shillings than let their children go to the hop-fields during the picking
+season, lest they should come away but too much wiser than they went. As
+we rode further the number of tramps increased; all the morning we passed and overtook
+them.<span class="figright"><img src="images/img08.jpg" alt="" /><br /><a href="images/img08big.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a><br /><i>An Enterprising Pilgrim.</i></span>
+There were grey-haired, decrepit men and women, who
+hobbled painfully along, and could scarcely keep pace with their more
+stalwart sons and daughters; there were children by the score, some of
+whom ran gaily on, forgetting fatigue for joy of the sunshine; others
+lagged behind, whimpering and weary; and still others were borne in their
+mothers&#8217; arms. Almost all these people were laden with their household
+goods and gods. They carried heavy bags thrown over their shoulders, or
+else baskets and bundles slung on their arms, and pots and kettles and all
+manner of household furniture. One man, more enterprising<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> than the
+others, had brought a push-cart; when we saw it, two babies, almost hidden
+in a confused mass of clothing and pots and pans, were sleeping in it, and one clasped a kitten in her
+arms. <span class="figleft"><img src="images/img09.jpg" alt="" /><br /><a href="images/img09big.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a><br /><i>An Indifferent Pilgrim.</i></span>Now,
+with a sharp bend in the road, we came suddenly upon a man sitting under a tree, who, though we rang our
+bell right in his ear, never raised his eyes from a hole in an old silk
+handkerchief he was holding; and now we came to a man and woman resting on
+a pile of stones by the roadside, who sat upright at the tinkling of our
+bell. I shall never forget the red and swarthy face of the woman as she
+turned and looked at us, her black hair, coarse and straight as an
+Indian&#8217;s, hanging about her shoulders and over her eyes: she was
+unmistakably young in years but old in vice, and ignorant of all save
+evil&mdash;compared to hers an idiot&#8217;s face would have been intelligent, a
+brute&#8217;s refined. I could now understand why honest countrywomen kept
+their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> children from the hop-fields. As a rule, the tramps were as
+careless and jolly as B&eacute;ranger&#8217;s Bohemians, and laughed and made merry as
+if the world and its hardships were but jests. We, as figures in the
+farce, came in for a share of their mirth. &#8216;That&#8217;s right! ladies fust!&#8217;
+one old tattered and torn man called after us, gaily; &#8216;that&#8217;s the
+principle on which I allus hacts!&#8217; Which, I suppose, is a rough way of
+saying &#8216;<i>Place aux dames</i>.&#8217; A very little joke went a great way with them.
+&#8216;Clear the path!&#8217; another man cried to the women walking with him, as we
+coasted down the hill outside of Dartford: &#8216;ere&#8217;s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> a lady and gen&#8217;leman on
+a happaratus a-runnin&#8217; over us!&#8217; &#8216;They&#8217;re only a &#8217;enjoyin&#8217; of &#8217;emselves,&#8217;
+an old hag of the party added; &#8216;so let luck go wi&#8217; &#8217;em!&#8217; Then she laughed
+loud and long, and the others joined with her, and the sound of their
+laughter still reached our ears as we came into the village.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img10.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Unwelcome Pilgrims.</i></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>Dartford, from a cycler&#8217;s point of view, is a long narrow street between
+two hills, one of which is good to coast, the other hard to climb. The
+place, as we saw it, was full of hucksters and waggons, and footmen and
+carriages, and we passed on without stopping, save by the river that runs
+near a church, with a tower and an unconventional clock looking out from
+one side instead of from the centre, which is the proper place for clocks.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img11tmb.jpg" alt="" /><br />
+<a href="images/img11.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>From Dartford to Gravesend the road became more pleasant every minute.
+Here and there were brown fields, where men were ploughing, or perhaps
+burning heaps of stubble, and sending pale grey clouds of smoke
+heavenwards; here and there were golden meadows where gleaners were busy,
+and then, perhaps, a row of tall, dark poplars, or a patch of brilliant
+cabbages. To the south, broad plains, where lazy, ease-loving cattle were
+grazing, stretched as far as the eye could see. To the north, every now
+and then, as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> road turned, we saw the river, where ships were at
+anchor, and steamers were steaming up to London, and black barges, with
+dark-red sails, were floating down with the tide. The water was blue as
+the sky, and the hills in the distance seemed to melt into a soft purple
+mist hanging over them. By the road and by the river were many deep
+deserted quarries, whose white chalk cliffs could be seen from afar, while
+they brought out in strong contrast the red roofs of the cottages built at
+their feet. We came to one or two small villages and another church, with
+its tower and a clock awry, so that we wondered whether this was a fashion
+in Kent. And all along the hedges were white and pink with open
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>morning-glories, and the trees threw soft shadows over the white road,
+and everywhere the air was sweet with the scent of clematis.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img12.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Burning Stubble near Gravesend.</i></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>Gravesend is not a very striking place as you enter it from the road. It
+was to us remarkable chiefly for the Rosherville Gardens, which hitherto
+we had known only in our Dickens. But we found a pleasant &#8216;ale-stake&#8217; by
+the river, where we rested to &#8216;both drinke and biten on a cake;&#8217; or,
+rather, on substantial beefsteak and vegetables. There was no one else in
+the coffee-room, but one or two dogs strayed in from the private bar, and
+seeing we were at dinner became very sociable. The maid who waited on us
+was friendly too, and while J. was busy putting away the tricycle she was
+even moved to confide in me. She was the only maid in the house, she said.
+There had been another, but she had gone some time ago; &#8216;and there&#8217;s a
+jolly hard lot of work for one woman to do, ma&#8217;am,&#8217; she went on. &#8216;I&#8217;m not
+used to it, and I can&#8217;t stand it much longer. I&#8217;ve always been in a
+private before. It&#8217;s easy enough to go from a private to a public, but to
+get from a public to a private again is another thing. Onst in a public is
+always in a public, ma&#8217;am!&#8217; Then some one called her. I was glad to have
+her go, for her way of telling her trouble had in it something of the
+Greek doctrine of fate, and so long as her eye was upon me I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> an
+uncomfortable feeling, as if I were one of the instruments decreed from
+all time to work out her cheerless destiny. It was more agreeable to look
+out of the window on the little lawn in front, where two comfortable
+matrons were drinking beer, and a Blue-coat boy, home for the holidays,
+was running around, showing his orange legs to the best advantage. It was
+quiet on the river. Large steamers, small steam-tugs and row-boats, were
+lying at anchor. An old coastguard hulk was moored opposite, and an
+officer walked solemnly up and down the deck, every now and then halting
+to look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> through a spyglass for suspicious craft. But as we stood on the
+pier, after we had dined, the tide turned, and swiftly and silently all
+the boats turned with it. Tugs gave shrill whistles in warning of their
+speedy departure. Sail-boats unfurled their sails. Sailors came down the
+watersteps, leading from the houses built on high walls at the water&#8217;s
+edge, and rowed quickly to the coastguard boat, saluted the solitary
+officer, and disappeared below. In the large P. and O. steamer, anchored
+at some distance from the pier, we could see the red turbans and white
+tunics of Lascars moving to and fro on the decks. The river was now as
+lively as it had before been quiet. But it monopolised the activity of the
+place, for when we went back for our tricycle we met only one or two
+seamen and a handful of children.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img13.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><i>By the River at Gravesend.</i></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>When we set forth again the air was warm and sleep-inspiring. This,
+together with the consciousness of having well dined, it must be
+confessed, made us return to the pedals unwillingly. Not even the fact
+that a whole Sunday school, off for a picnic, waited to look at us, could
+stimulate us into speed. A sun-dial on a church tower just outside of
+Gravesend seemed to take us to task for our indolence. In large black
+letters on its white face it said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8216;Be quick: your time&#8217;s short!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>But we knew better. Rochester was but seven miles off, and in Rochester we
+had made up our minds to sleep that night. The tramps had grown as lazy as
+we, but they did not even pretend to struggle with their laziness. All
+along the road we saw them lying under the hedges and in shady places.
+Some were asleep, others day-dreaming. Three women had roused themselves
+somewhat, and were making preparations for afternoon tea. They had kindled
+a fire by the wayside, and hung their kettle over it. A little further on,
+a mother and her children were just coming to the road from the deep,
+sweet shade of a dingle. On the hill beyond<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> was a grey church, with a
+graveyard whose graves straggled down the hillside, and next to it a large
+farmhouse, with red roof and walls, whose colour was softened and
+harmonised by time. When the children saw we had stopped the machine they
+ran up at once to beg us to buy queer little round calico-balls, which
+they called pin-cushions. One had bright black eyes, and, not in the least
+discomfited by our refusal of the balls, danced merrily around the
+tricycle. Then she peered into J.&#8217;s sketch-book.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img14.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Afternoon Tea.</i></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;He&#8217;s drawrin!&#8217; she called to her mother, in a loud stage whisper.</p>
+
+<p>The latter bade her mind her manners. But she still continued her
+observations.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Oh, mother, it&#8217;s the church!&#8217; was her next cry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Which, I&#8217;m sure, it&#8217;s a werry decent church,&#8217; the mother declared, as if
+to encourage us with her approval; and then they went their way.</p>
+
+<p>Later, when, as we were coasting down a hill, we overtook the party, the
+same child jumped and clapped her hands, &#8216;It&#8217;s goin&#8217; all by its lone
+self!&#8217; she screamed; but her sister trudged stolidly on, and spake never a
+word.</p>
+
+<p>Of the many places on the road to Canterbury, made famous by latter-day
+pilgrims, few are better known and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> loved than Gad&#8217;s Hill, where honest
+Jack Falstaff performed his deeds of valour, and where Charles Dickens
+spent the last years of his life. We had counted upon making it, too, a
+station by the way. But whether it was that we were just then drifting
+along in lotus-eaters&#8217; fashion, our feet moving mechanically, or whether
+the prospect of another long coast made us forgetful of all else, certain
+it is that, with a glance of admiration at the dark spreading cedars, and
+another at the inn and its sign, adorned with the picture of Falstaff, we
+went by without a thought as to where we were. At the foot of the hill a
+baker told us that up yonder was the house where Mr. Dickens had lived.
+Were we already in danger of forgetting the aim of our pilgrimage? Would
+we sacrifice our great end for what we had intended to be but a means to
+it? &#8216;Let us,&#8217; I said humbly, &#8216;try to keep our wits from wool-gathering
+again, lest we ride through Rochester and Canterbury without knowing it!&#8217;
+We collected our thoughts in good time; for, lo! as mine host said to the
+monk, Rochester stands there hard by. Before many minutes we saw in the
+distance the town of Strood, and beyond it the broad Medway and Rochester,
+its castle and cathedral towering above the houses clustering about them.</p>
+
+<p>We stayed all night in Rochester. The early pilgrims<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> went to the &#8216;Crown.&#8217;
+But the &#8216;Crown,&#8217; alas! stands no longer, and so we slept at the &#8216;Queen&#8217;s
+Head,&#8217; the C. T. C. headquarters. There is, somewhere in the city, the
+chapel where pious travellers of old stopped to pray, but we could not
+find it. The further we went the more it seemed as if we were in pursuit
+of a shadow. And, indeed, it was here that we discovered that even the
+road we had ridden over was not that along which mine host and his company
+had passed as they told their tales. There was no use, however, in our
+going back to London and starting out again, so as to take the right road;
+for, alas! it&mdash;that is, as far as Rochester&mdash;has gone the way of the
+Tabard and Crown. Only the yew-trees, planted at intervals along its
+course, survive to show where it once ran.</p>
+
+<p>After we had had our tea, we walked out in the twilight. The town deserves
+the name of Dulborough, given it by Dickens; and so, indeed, our little
+maid at the inn thought. There was nothing to do to amuse one&#8217;s self, she
+said. She had been up to London for a month in the spring, and since then
+she couldn&#8217;t abide Rochester.</p>
+
+<p>Having produced a Castle and ruined it, and a Cathedral and restored it,
+it has ever since rested on its laurels. We wandered a little way through
+the narrow twisting street,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> meeting only soldiers and a few young girls
+and men, and through the gabled gatehouse, where opium-eating Jasper
+lived; past the wonderful Norman doorway of the Cathedral and then to the
+Castle, where we rested awhile in the public garden the city has made
+around it. The pigeons had gone to roost, two or three women sat silently
+on the benches, a group of children played a singing game in the Pavilion.
+Away in the west, beyond the river, we could see the green and yellow
+fields and the poplars, radiant in the light of the afterglow; on the
+horizon, a dark windmill rose above the hillside like a sentinel on duty,
+and its long arms moved slowly around. It was even more peaceful down by
+the river: two men were pulling a long outrigger against the tide; a few
+heavy-laden barges floated up the stream with it. The figures of the men
+on board were silhouetted in black against the now fading western light.
+The red sails were furled and the masts slowly fell as the barges neared
+the bridge; noiselessly and swiftly they disappeared under the black
+arches. They seemed to carry with them all the sounds of the day; the
+silence of night came over the place, our voices sank lower, and we walked
+quietly back to the lonely street and to the Inn.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+<h2>Second Day</h2>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img15.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><span class="large">Oh, what a Fall!</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="gigantic">Second Day</span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img16.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">There</span> was a little more stir in the place the next morning, but it was
+because it was filled with tramps, who were wisely taking advantage of the
+early coolness and hurrying on their way. But when we turned off the High
+Street the town was as still in the glare of day as it had been in the
+late twilight. The high brick walls of the private gardens might have
+enclosed dwelling-places of the dead rather than of the living, for not a
+sound came over them. The little pointed houses might have been sepulchres
+for all the signs of life they gave. The whole town, instead of one little
+street, should be called Tranquil Place. It seemed very characteristic
+that the Cathedral should be closed, and this at the season when the
+tourist is abroad in the land. It was being cleaned, an old man told us.
+We looked through the iron railing of the door into the nave, and at the
+marble floor, and the tall, white, rounded arches. &#8216;It&#8217;s like looking down
+the throat of Old Time!&#8217; Mr. Grewgious thought when he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> stood there. At
+the farther end by the chancel steps a charwoman was at work on bended
+knees. By her side was one small bucket. Here, truly, was a Liliputian set
+to do the work of Brobdignag. At that rate it is probable visitors were
+shut out for many months.</p>
+
+<p>After we had looked at the &#8216;Bull,&#8217; which still reminds the public by a
+sign of the good beds enjoyed by Mr. Pickwick and his friends, at the Town
+Hall where Pip was apprenticed, at the many-gabled, lattice-windowed house
+in which Rosa Bud bloomed into young ladyhood, and were standing in front
+of the &#8216;Six Poor Travellers&#8217;&#8217; lodging-place, reading the inscription over
+the door, and wondering who were the proctors classed with rogues who
+could not rest within, a benevolent Englishman passing that way fell upon
+us. He was a worthy fellow-citizen of Richard Watts. Seeing we were
+strangers, he, without waiting to be asked, bestowed upon us the charity
+of information.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Do you know what a Proctor is, Sir?&#8217; he asked, addressing himself to J.,
+who meekly, as befits one receiving alms, said that he did not. &#8216;No! Well,
+then, I will tell you. It is a proc-u-ra-tor,&mdash;one who collects Peter&#8217;s
+pence for the Pope, Sir. Richard Watts lived in the sixteenth century,
+when Protestantism made people feel bitterly, Sir, and he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> have no
+friends of the Pope beneath his roof. Proc-u-ra-tor! That&#8217;s what a Proctor
+is, Sir.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>He had disappeared around the curve of the street before we had finished
+thanking him. As the information was new to us, I, with the common belief
+that others must be as ignorant as myself, now imitate his benevolence,
+and here bestow it in alms upon whoever may be in need of it.</p>
+
+<p>It was one o&#8217;clock when we mounted our tricycle and set out once more for
+Canterbury. The sky was still unclouded and the day warm, but a good
+breeze was blowing, and we were fresh for our ride. The streets of Chatham
+were as busy as those of Rochester were idle, and blocked with waggons, so
+that we had to fall in line and go at snail&#8217;s pace. Once, with a sudden
+halt, we were brought so near a horse just in front, that my foot knocked
+against his leg; but he bore the blow stoically, as if he were used to
+Chatham streets. An American circus was about to start out on its grand
+street parade, and children hung about corners and out of windows. At the
+foot of the hill outside the town, and marked &#8216;Dangerous&#8217; by the National
+Cyclists&#8217; Union, for the benefit of cyclers, two very small boys offered
+to &#8216;Push it up, Sir!&#8217; but as it looked as if <i>it</i> would push them down, we
+declined. At the top we met a cycler on his way from Canterbury, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> he
+gave us evil tidings of the road. It became worse with every mile, he
+said, and it was heavy and hilly, and the dust was enough to stifle one.
+To this last statement his appearance bore good testimony.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img17.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><i>The Marshes.</i></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>But at first we found it fair enough. From Chatham to Sittingbourne our
+journey was one of unmixed pleasure. The wheels went easily, and the wind
+blew on our backs. Now we passed on our right a vast treeless expanse,
+divided into squares of green, and golden, and brown, all shining softly
+in the sunlight, with here and there a windmill; but to the left we could
+see far below us the white line of the river<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> winding between the flat
+grey marshes, where in Pip&#8217;s day the escaped convicts prowled. Again we
+wheeled through small, sleepy villages, with church and tower half hidden
+in clumps of trees, and with red oasts, whose crooked cowls loomed up over
+the chimney-pots of the low cottages: for we had come to the hop country,
+and at every step the land of Kent grew fairer. Beyond Rainham the road
+lay between hop-gardens, as they are appropriately called, and
+cherry-orchards. In places the vines formed tall, shady hedges; in others
+the gardens were shut in by bare poles hung with coarse brown cloth, to
+defy the wind and the depredations of small boys, and other destructive
+animals: but the prettiest fields were those which were in no way hedged
+about, so that we could look down the long, narrow, green aisles, which
+seemed to lead to fields of light beyond. The vines twisted lovingly up
+the poles, which in many places bent beneath masses of green fruit, or
+else the topmost shoots crossed and intertwined from one pole to another,
+and the whole field was woven into a large arbour. Where the sunlight fell
+upon the green clusters it turned them to pure gold, and the leaves,
+blowing gently to and fro, seemed to rejoice in their great beauty. The
+cherry-orchards were so pretty and trim that I wondered if, like the
+hop-fields, they were not sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> called gardens. The trees had been
+long stripped of their fruit, but their branches were well covered with
+cool green leaves, and their shadows met on the grass beneath. There was
+one in particular, before which we rested. Sheep were browsing placidly on
+the downy turf, and when we looked low down between the trees we could see
+the shining white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> river far in the distance. I half expected to hear a
+new Daphnis and Menalcas singing their pastorals in gentle rivalry.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img18.jpg" alt="A Cherry Orchard." /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>We met few people. The tramps who come down to Kent for the hop-picking
+turn off from Rochester to go to Maidstone, where the largest hop-fields
+are, and where there is more chance for them to be hired; but a comparatively small number go on to
+Canterbury.<span class="figright"><img src="images/img19.jpg" alt="" /><br />
+<a href="images/img19big.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a><br /><strong>A Kentish Pastoral.</strong></span>
+Some cyclers were making the most of the fine day. As we sat idly between the hop-gardens three
+passed us. Two rode a tandem; the third, a bicycle; but they were of the
+time-making species, for whom the only beauty of a ride is that of speed.
+Looking at them, and then at the sheep in a field beyond, I thought the
+latter were having the best of it. A little further on we met a party of
+three Frenchmen. One rode ahead on a bicycle, the two others followed on a
+tandem like ours. One of the latter, when he saw us, called out to the
+bicycler, &#8216;<i>C&#8217;est bon d&#8217;aller comme &ccedil;a!</i>&#8217; I suppose he thought we should
+not understand him, and if we did&mdash;well, ought not a Frenchman always to
+be gallant?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>We rode on with light hearts. An eternity of wheeling through such perfect
+country and in such soft sunshine would, we thought, be the true earthly
+paradise. We were at peace with ourselves and with all mankind, and J.
+even went so far as to tell me I had never ridden so well!</p>
+
+<p>It was, then, in a happy frame of mind, that we reached the inn at
+Sittingbourne. It was an unassuming place, but quiet and clean; the bar
+was on one side of the hall, the coffee-room on the other. The latter was
+empty, and the landlady, after laying the cloth for our bread and cheese
+and shandy-gaff&mdash;of all drinks the most refreshing to the cycler&mdash;left us
+alone to study this printed notice, which hung in a frame over the door:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8216;Call frequently,<br />
+Drink moderately,<br />
+Pay honourably,<br />
+Be good company,<br />
+Part friendly,<br />
+Go home quietly.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>We soon had the opportunity of putting into practice one clause of this
+advice, for the door was suddenly burst open, and a short man with a bald
+head, who wore the Cyclists&#8217; Touring Club uniform, rushed in.</p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img20tmb.jpg" alt="" /><br />
+<a href="images/img20.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a></div>
+<p>&nbsp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>&#8216;Are you the lady and gentleman that came on the tandem?&#8217; he asked, before
+he was quite in the room.</p>
+
+<p>We said we were.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;I don&#8217;t like tandems, do you?&#8217; he continued, fiercely, as if he were
+daring us to differ from him. He seemed to think we had come there that he
+might tell us his grievances; which he did, with much elaboration, while
+we ate our lunch. He and his wife had been down to Margate from London,
+and were now on their way back, he said. They had made the trip on a
+tandem; it was the first time he had ridden one, and it would be the last,
+for he didn&#8217;t like tandems&mdash;they were horrid things! Did we like tandems?
+To avoid repetition, I may here mention that this expression of dislike,
+together with the query as to our opinion, was the refrain to everything
+he said. It was always given with the same interest and emphasis as if it
+were an entirely original remark. The only variation he made was by
+sometimes beginning with the statement, and at others with the question.
+He explained the reasons for his dislike. The principal was, that the
+people one met on the roads always insulted riders on a tandem. Why, he
+had been off his machine a dozen times that morning, fighting men who had
+been chaffing him! I thought, with a shudder, of the crowd of hucksters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
+J. would have had to fight by London Bridge, had he been of the same mind.
+Then, the next objection was, that he had to sit behind his wife&mdash;she had
+to steer, and he would not be surprised if he were seriously injured, or
+even killed, before he got back to London. Women were heedless things, and
+easily frightened. His wife, who had joined us a few minutes before, here
+grew angry, and a slight skirmish of words followed between them: she
+reminded him of the dangers they had escaped through her nerve and skill;
+he recalled the dangers into which they had run owing to her
+thoughtlessness and timidity. But, just at this point of the discussion J.
+took out his watch. At sight of it the little man forgot his anger to
+pounce upon it, with never as much as &#8216;An it please you!&#8217; Then, looking up
+in triumph, he exclaimed, &#8216;I knew it! it&#8217;s an American watch! They know
+how to make watches over there, but they&#8217;re ruining our trade.&#8217; Then he
+explained that he was a London watchmaker, and he pulled out of his pocket
+a large substantial specimen of his workmanship.</p>
+
+<p>The talk now turning upon America, we told him, in answer to his
+inquiries, that we were Americans.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;From Canada?&#8217; his wife asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Oh, no!&#8217; I answered; &#8216;from Philadelphia.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>&#8216;Dear me!&#8217; the watchmaker
+said; &#8216;then you&#8217;re <i>real</i> Americans! But you speak English very well!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Yes,&#8217; J. admitted, modestly. &#8216;But then, you know, English is sometimes
+spoken in our part of the world!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>All this made the fierce little cycler very friendly, and he next wanted
+to know where we were going.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;To Canterbury,&#8217; we said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;To Canterbury!&#8217; he cried; and then, to give greater force to his words,
+he came and stood directly in front of us on the other side of the table.
+&#8216;To Canterbury! Well, then, my advice to you is, if you have no other
+object than pleasure, don&#8217;t go! No, don&#8217;t you go! I&#8217;ve been there, and I
+know what I say. It&#8217;s a rotten place. There&#8217;s nothing in it but an old
+cathedral and a lot of old houses and churches, and they charged me
+sixpence for keeping my tandem one night. I don&#8217;t like tandems-horrid
+things! Do you like tandems? Yes, it&#8217;s a rotten place, and if I had my way
+I&#8217;d raze it to the ground!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>I now understand why it is that Mr. Matthew Arnold thinks the average
+Briton so very terrible.</p>
+
+<p>By this time we had finished our lunch, and were ready to start. The
+watchmaker and his wife had engaged in another battle. She did not agree
+with him in his opinion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> of Canterbury. Indeed I believe they did not
+agree upon any one subject, and the tandem had tried their tempers. They
+had both said they wanted to see us off, and to compare machines; but we,
+being modest people, thought we would as lieve escape without their
+comments and farewells. This seemed a favourable opportunity. In the heat
+of the argument we left the room and paid our bill, without their noticing
+our retreat; but just as we had mounted our tricycle, and were wheeling
+softly away, we heard a voice calling, &#8216;Oh, I say now! do come back a
+minute: I want to show you my machine!&#8217; It would have been more than
+uncivil to have refused, so we sat patiently while the much-abused tandem
+was brought out. The owner, in his pride, rode out on it, pedalled by us,
+and then wheeled round and faced us with an abruptness that fairly took
+away our breath. It was the shortest turn I have ever seen, and I waited
+for the end with the same uncertainty with which one watches a trapeze
+performance. Then there was some little talk about bells and brakes, and
+tyres and saddles. In the meantime the landlady, with two or three of her
+friends, had come out, and was staring at us with a curiosity for which I
+could not account. But presently she said, &#8216;Are you going back soon?&#8217; And
+then I knew she had heard we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> Americans, and had come to have a look
+at these strange people who had sailed across the sea, apparently for no
+other reason than to test the cycling properties of the roads of Kent.
+After this exhibition was over we said good-bye very pleasantly, and rode
+off, followed by their wishes for our good luck, while the watchmaker
+called out encouragingly, &#8216;You Americans ride pretty well; but I don&#8217;t
+like tandems. Horrid things! Do you like tandems?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img21.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><i>A Farmhouse near Rochester.</i></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>But their wishes were the only good luck we met with. We had not gone far
+from Sittingbourne, when we admitted that the pilgrim we had met just
+outside of Chatham was no false prophet after all; for the road now began
+to be heavy with sand and rough with flints. And oh, the hills! They were
+not very steep, but I was a novice in cycling. No sooner were we on
+up-grades than I exhausted myself by my vigorous back-pedalling. I have
+heard the uninitiated say that tricycling must be <i>so</i> easy, just like
+working the velocipedes of our childhood.<span class="figleft"><img src="images/img22.jpg" alt="" /><br />
+<a href="images/img22big.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a><br /><i>A Little River.</i></span> But let them try! The country
+had lost none of its beauty. Fields were as green and golden, orchards as
+shady, and sheep as peaceful, as those we had seen before lunch. There
+were little churches on hilltops and pretty dingles by the wayside;
+handsome country-houses with well-kept lawns, and fields where cricketers
+were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> playing, and young girls in gay-coloured dresses were applauding;
+and there were old-fashioned farm-houses and quaint inn-yards. We passed
+through villages by which little quiet rivers ran, some with boats lying
+by the shore, and others, as at Ospringe, where horses and waggons were
+calmly driven through the water. But the heaviness had spread from the
+road to my heart, and all joyousness had gone from me.</p>
+
+<p>The worst of it was, that as the road here wound little, we could see it
+miles ahead&mdash;a white perpendicular line on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> purple hill which bounded
+the horizon.<span class="figright"><img src="images/img23.jpg" alt="" /><br /><a href="images/img23big.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a></span> We
+knew this must be Boughton Hill, the fame of whose steepness has gone abroad in the cycling world. With the knowledge of what
+was to come ever before me, I began to pedal so badly that J. told me so
+very plainly, and said, moreover, that I was more of a hindrance than a
+help to him. For some time we rode on very silently. Earlier in the
+afternoon we had been passed by a man driving an empty carriage, of whom
+we had asked one or two questions. He had stopped to watch the
+cricket-match, but he now overtook us, and, to add to my misery, asked me
+if I would not like him to drive me into Canterbury. All this was hard to
+bear.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, we came to Boughton, a small village with ivy-grown houses and a
+squirrel and a dolphin staring at each other amicably from rival inns. It
+is right at the foot of Boughton Hill. Now that we were near it, the white
+line we had seen for so long widened into a broad road, but it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> looked no
+less perpendicular. It was here that Chaucer&#8217;s pilgrims</p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span style="margin-left: 9em;">&#8216;gan atake</span><br />
+A man that clothed was in clothes blake,<br />
+And undernethe he wered a white surplis.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>There is no record that mine host and the Chanones Yeman dismounted and
+walked to rest their horses. But all the many waggons and carriages and
+cycles we saw above us on the modern road were being led, not driven.
+Halfway up was an old lumbering stage, with boxes piled on the top, and
+big baskets and bundles swinging underneath. The driver was walking; but a
+tramp, who had made believe to push when on level ground, now sat
+comfortably on the backseat, taking his ease. A little lower was the
+friendly driver with his empty carriage, for he had rested at the
+&#8216;Squirrel,&#8217; and so we had caught up to him again. At the top we looked
+back to see that the West was a broad sea of shining light. A yellow mist
+hung over the plain, softening and blending its many colours. Far off to
+the north the river glittered and sparkled, and a warm glow spread over
+the green of the near hillsides. The way in front of us was grey and
+colourless by comparison. It was almost all down-hill after this. Did I
+want to be driven into Canterbury, indeed? My benevolent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> friend might now
+have asked us to pull him in. The stage made a show of racing us, but we
+gave it only a minute&#8217;s chance. An officer in braided coat driving a drag
+passed us triumphantly while we were on our up-grade; but when we came
+again to a level we left him far behind.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">&#8216;Wete ye not wher stondeth a litel toun,<br />
+Which that ycleped is Bob up-and-doun,<br />
+Under the blee in Canterbury way?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>It is better known now as Harbledown. A little of our trouble here came
+back, for the road leading to that part of it &#8216;ycleped Bob-up,&#8217; was steep
+and heavy, and we had to walk. To our right were the old red-brick
+almshouses and the little church of St. Michael, one of the many oldest
+churches in Kent, and of which all we could see was the ivy-covered tower.
+It was here that Henry, when on his way to the holy shrine, dismounted,
+that, as became his humble calling of pilgrim, he might walk into
+Canterbury. And it was here, too, that the Person began his long-winded
+discourse. But we, less reverent than King Henry, now mounted again; and,
+less phlegmatic than the Person, we held our peace. For as we rode further
+up we heard far-away chimes, just as Erasmus did when he went from
+Harbledown; and there gradually rose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> before us a tall, grey tower, then
+two more, and at last, as we reached the top of the hill, we saw in the
+plain below the great Cathedral itself, standing up far above the low red
+roofs of Canterbury. We were almost at our goal.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img24.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img25tmb.jpg" alt="" /><br />
+<a href="images/img25.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>A little further on we passed a hop-field, where the picking had already
+begun. In one part the poles were stripped of their vines, so that it
+looked as if the farmer had reaped for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>his sowing a crop of dead
+sticks. In the other the poles were still green, but the day&#8217;s work was
+just over. Women were packing up kettles and pans, jugs and bottles, and
+stowing babies and bundles into perambulators, while two or three men were
+going the rounds with bag and basket, measuring the day&#8217;s picking, and
+marking off the account of each picker by notching short, flat pieces of
+wood held up for the purpose. In the road beyond a large cart, packed with
+well-filled bags, was being drawn homewards by three horses, while a young
+man rode up and down the green aisles. &#8216;I beg your pardon, Sir,&#8217; a farm
+hand said to J., who had been sketching, &#8216;but you&#8217;ve been takin&#8217; some of
+our people, and now you hought to take our Guvnor on his &#8217;oss;&#8217; and he
+pointed to the young man. All the way into the town we passed groups of
+pickers: women with large families of children, small boys with jugs and
+coats hung over their shoulders, and young girls with garlands of hops
+twisted about their hats, and all were as merry as if they had been on a
+picnic. We saw them still before us, even after we had turned into Saint
+Dunstan&#8217;s Street, from which the gold of the afterglow was fast fading,
+and were riding between the quaint, gabled houses, through whose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
+diamond-paned windows lights were beginning to appear. Before us was the
+old, grey-towered city gate, through which royal and ecclesiastical
+processions and knights and nobles once passed, but where we now saw only
+the tramps who had arrived at the eleventh hour sitting at its foot with
+their bags and baggage.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img26tmb.jpg" alt="Westgate from without." /><br />
+<a href="images/img26.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>We &#8216;toke&#8217; our inn at the sign of the &#8216;Falstaff,&#8217; without the gate. Honest
+Jack, in buff doublet and red hose, hanging between the projecting windows
+and far out over the pavement by a wonderful piece of wrought-iron work,
+gave us welcome, and within we found rest and good cheer for weary
+pilgrims. Then we &#8216;ordeyned&#8217; our dinner wisely, but it was too late to go
+to the Cathedral that same evening, as we should have liked to have done,
+and we were forced to wait for the morrow. After we had come downstairs
+from our dimity-curtained bed-chamber, had dined, and were sitting over
+our tea in a little, low-ceilinged room, from whose window we looked into
+a pretty garden of roses and grapevines, a stranger sent us greeting, and
+asked if he might come and sit with us. He was a priest, also making
+pilgrimage, who had ridden from Rochester on a machine like ours; so that
+we became friendly forthwith, and, like the pilgrims who <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>rested at the
+&#8216;Chequers of the Hope,&#8217; every man of our party</p>
+
+<p class="poem"><span style="margin-left: 3em;">&#8216;in his wyse made hertly chere,</span><br />
+Telling his felowe of sportys and of chere,<br />
+And of other mirthis that fellen by the way,<br />
+As custom is of pilgrims and hath been many a day.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>And just before we parted for the night we held counsel together and
+agreed that, in the morning, we would in company visit the holy shrine.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr style="width: 50%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+<h2>Third Day</h2>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img27.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><span class="large">A Tale of the Verger.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><span class="gigantic">Third Day</span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img28.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">We</span> rose early the next day, and, that we might be in all possible things
+like the men in whose steps we were walking, we &#8216;cast on fresher gowns&#8217;
+before we started to walk through the town. Then, after we had
+breakfasted, we set out with our new friend for the Cathedral. Our way led
+through the gate, on which the sun shone brightly, and where tramps were
+still waiting to be hired; and then through the High Street, filled with
+other pilgrims, who spake divers tongues, who wore not sandal, but canvas
+shoon, and who had their &#8216;signys&#8217; in their hands and upon their &#8216;capps,&#8217;
+for many had puggarees about their hats, and still more carried red
+guide-books. The air was warm, but fresh and pure as if the sea-breeze had
+touched it; and the gables and carvings of the old houses were glowing
+with sunlight. The reflection of the red roofs and of geraniums and
+hollyhocks in gardens by the way made bright bits of colour in among the
+tall reeds of the little river Stour, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> as we went slowly along we
+talked, as befitted the occasion, of bygone times, for at every step we
+were reminded of those earlier travellers whose humble followers we were.
+Here we came to the Hospital of St. Thomas, now an almshouse, of old the
+place where poor pilgrims found shelter; and here, in the ground-floor of
+a haberdasher&#8217;s shop, we saw a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>few arches of what was once the
+&#8216;Chequers of the Hope,&#8217; where the rich were lodged; and so, when in
+Mercery Lane, where the houses almost met above in a friendly,
+confidential way, we saw a man in cocked-hat and knee-breeches and much
+gold lace, it seemed as if he, like everything else in Canterbury, must be
+a relic of the olden time.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img29.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Waiting to be Hired.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img30tmb.jpg" alt="On the Stour." /><br />
+<a href="images/img30.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;I must know who that fellow is!&#8217; the priest exclaimed; and, without more
+ado, walked up to him and boldly addressed him thus: &#8216;Ahem!&mdash;I say
+now&mdash;who are you, any way?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>And the man, in his wonder, forgot to take offence, and answered, &#8216;Why I,
+Sir, am the town crier!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>Talk of Yankee cheek indeed!</p>
+
+<p>Then we went on down the lane, past the round marketplace, where women
+were selling sweets, and under the stone gateway with its time-worn
+tracery, to the south porch of the Cathedral, where a tricycle was
+standing. As the pilgrims had to pray before they could approach the
+sacred tomb, so we, after we had entered the nave, had to wait and listen
+to morning service. Then we were told that no one could go to the shrine
+unless led thither by the verger. There was nothing to do but to fall into
+the ranks of a detachment of tourists on their way to it. With them we
+were marshalled through the iron gate, separating the choir from the
+chapels, by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> a grey-bearded, grey-haired man, who kept his eye sternly
+upon us as we deposited our sixpences, our modest offerings in place of
+&#8216;silver broch and ryngis.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Where is the shrine?&#8217; we asked, as soon as we were on the other side of
+the gate.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;The shrine which it lies but a few steps further on,&#8217; the verger
+answered; &#8216;and you will come to it in good time.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>Then he showed us the &#8216;horgan and its pipes, which they lie in the
+triforium,&#8217; and the &#8216;Norman Chapel of Saint Hanselm, which it is the
+holdest part of the building,&#8217; and about all of which he had much to say.
+But we interrupted him quickly. &#8216;Take us to the shrine,&#8217; we commanded. But
+just then another tourist, eager for information, began to ask questions
+not only about the Cathedral, but about the whole city. Before we knew
+where we were, she had carried us all out to Harbledown, and then, without
+stopping, whisked us off to Saint Martin&#8217;s-on-the-Hill. This was too much.
+We started to find the shrine for ourselves, but our friend the priest ran
+after us.</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;You must wait for the verger,&#8217; he said. &#8216;I hope you don&#8217;t mind my telling
+you; but then, you know, you&#8217;re Americans, and I thought you mightn&#8217;t
+understand.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img31tmb.jpg" alt="Canterbury, from the river." /><br />
+<a href="images/img31.jpg"><small>Larger Image</small></a></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>His interest by degrees extended from us to the rest of the party. By some
+peculiar method of reasoning he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> concluded that, because we were
+Americans, all who were following the verger, except himself, must be so
+likewise. Every now and then he would dart from our side to ask each one
+in turn, in a gentle whisper, &#8216;You&#8217;re an American, are you not?&#8217; The
+results were not always satisfactory. I saw one Englishman, with John Bull
+written in every feature, glare at him in suppressed rage; while a lady,
+after saying, rather savagely, &#8216;Well, is there any harm in being one?&#8217;
+dismissed him abruptly, as if to remind him that not she, but the
+Cathedral, was the show.</p>
+
+<p>The verger lingered on the broad stairway, &#8216;which the pilgrims they
+mounted it on their knees, as is seen by the two deep grooves in the stone
+steps.&#8217; He stood long by the tomb of Prince Hedward, the Black Prince, and
+when we came to the stone chair used only when archbishops are
+consecrated, he deliberately stopped, to suggest that some lady might like
+to sit in it, &#8216;though which it won&#8217;t make her a harchbishop,&#8217; he added.
+Then at last he led us to the chapel just beyond, and close to the choir.
+He waited until we had all followed and formed a semicircle around him,
+then he pointed to the pavement,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;Which now,&#8217; he said, solemnly, &#8216;you have come to the shrine of the
+saintly Thomas.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>We had reached our goal. We stood in the holy place for which Monk and
+Knight, Nun and Wife of Bath, had left husbands and nunnery, castle and
+monastery, and for which we had braved the jests and jeers of London
+roughs, and had toiled over the hills and struggled through the sands of
+Kent. Even the verger seemed to sympathise with our feelings. For a few
+moments he was silent; presently he continued&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8216;&#8217;Enery the Heighth, when he was in Canterbury, took the bones, which they
+was laid beneath, out on the green, and had them burned. With them he took
+the &#8217;oly shrine, which it and bones is here no longer!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><br />Shrine and Tabard, Chapels and Inns by the way, all have gone with the
+pilgrims of yester-year.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="large"><i>FINIS.</i></span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><i>London: Printed by</i> <span class="smcap">Strangeways &amp; Sons</span>, <i>Tower Street, Upper St. Martin&#8217;s Lane.</i></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img32.jpg" alt="" /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 36383-h.txt or 36383-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/3/8/36383">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/3/8/36383</a></p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Canterbury Pilgrimage, by Joseph Pennell
+and Elizabeth Robins Pennell
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Canterbury Pilgrimage
+
+
+Author: Joseph Pennell and Elizabeth Robins Pennell
+
+
+
+Release Date: June 11, 2011  [eBook #36383]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
+Internet Archive (http://www.archive.org)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 36383-h.htm or 36383-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36383/36383-h/36383-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36383/36383-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/canterburypilgri00penniala
+
+
+
+
+
+A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE
+
+This work is Copyright in England and America.
+
+
+A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE.
+
+Ridden, written, and illustrated by
+
+JOSEPH AND ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+London: Published by Seeley and Company,
+xlvi. xlvii. xlviii. Essex Street. Mdccclxxxv.
+
+
+
+
+  _TO_ Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson,
+
+  _We, who are unknown to him,
+  dedicate this record of one of our short
+  journeys on a Tricycle,
+  in gratitude for the happy hours we have spent
+  travelling with him and his Donkey._
+
+
+
+
+We do not think our book needs an apology, explanation, or preface; nor
+does it seem to us worth while to give our route-form, since the road from
+London to Canterbury is almost as well known to cyclers as the Strand, or
+the Lancaster Pike; nor to record our time, since we were pilgrims and not
+scorchers. And as for non-cyclers, who as yet know nothing of time and
+roads, we would rather show them how pleasant it is to go on pilgrimage
+than weary them with cycling facts.
+
+JOSEPH PENNELL.
+ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL.
+
+  36 BEDFORD PLACE,
+      _May 14th, 1885_.
+
+
+
+
+First Day
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Folk do go on Pilgrimage through Kent.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+It was towards the end of August, when a hot sun was softening the asphalt
+in the dusty streets of London, and ripening the hops in the pleasant land
+of Kent, that we went on pilgrimage to Canterbury. Ours was no ordinary
+journey by rail, which is the way latter-day pilgrims mostly travel. No.
+What we wanted was in all reverence to follow, as far as it was possible,
+the road taken by the famous company of bygone days, setting out from the
+hostelrie where these lordings lay one night and held counsel, making
+stations by the way at the few places they mention by name, and ending it,
+as they did, at the shrine of the 'holy, blissful martyr,' in the
+Canterbury Cathedral. How better could this be done than by riding over
+the ground made sacred by them on our tricycle?
+
+[Illustration: _Our only Race._]
+
+And so it came to pass that one close, foggy morning, we strapped our bags
+to our machine and wheeled out of Russell Square before any one was
+stirring but the policeman, making his last rounds and trying door after
+door. Down Holborn and past Staples' Inn, very grey and venerable in the
+pale light, and where the facetious driver of a donkey-cart tried to race
+us; past the now silent and deserted cloisters of Christ's Hospital, and
+under Bow Bells in Cheapside; past the Monument of the famous fire, and
+over London Bridge, where the mist was heavy on the river and the barges
+showed spectre-like through it, and where hucksters greeted us after their
+fashion, one crying, 'Go in, hind one! I bet on you. You'll catch up if
+you try hard enough!' and another, 'How are you there, up in the second
+story?' A short way up the Borough High Street, from which we had a
+glimpse of the old red roof and balustraded galleries of the 'White Hart;'
+and then we were at the corner where the 'Tabard' ought to be. This was to
+have been our starting-point; but how, it suddenly occurred to us for the
+first time, could we start from nothing? If ours had no beginning, would
+it be a genuine pilgrimage? This was a serious difficulty at the very
+outset. But our enthusiasm was fresh. We looked up at the old sign of
+'_Ye Old Tabard_,' hanging from the third story of the tall brick building
+which has replaced Chaucer's Inn. Here, at least, was something
+substantial. And we rode on with what good cheer we could.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Then we went for some distance over the Old Kent Road, which is laid with
+Belgian paving--invented, I think, for the confusion of cyclers, and where
+in one place a Hansom cab blocked the way. In endeavouring to pass around
+it our big wheel ran into the groove of the track, and we had to dismount
+and lift it out. The driver sat scowling as he looked on. If he had his
+way, he said, he would burn all _them things_. We came to Deptford, or
+West Greenwich, at half-past seven, the very hour when mine host and his
+fellows passed. So, in remembrance of them, we stopped a few minutes
+opposite a little street full of old two-storied houses, with tiled roofs
+and clustered chimney-pots and casement windows, overtopped by a distant
+church steeple, its outline softened in the silvery mist, for the fog was
+growing less as we journeyed onwards. At the corner was an Inn called the
+'Fountain,' and as a man who talked with us while we rested there said
+that an old fountain had stood in the open space near by, it pleased us to
+think that here had been one of the Waterings of Saint Thomas where
+pilgrims to the shrine made short halts, and that perhaps it was at this
+very spot that Davy Copperfield, a modern pilgrim who travelled the same
+road, had come to a stop in his flight from the young man with a
+donkey-cart. A little way out of Deptford we came to Blackheath, where
+sheep were peacefully grazing, rooks cawing overhead, and two or three
+bicyclers racing, and where a woman stopped us to say that 'That's the
+'ouse of Prince Harthur yander, and onst the Princess Sophia stayed in it
+on her way to Woolwich,' and she pointed to the handsome brick house to
+our left.
+
+[Illustration: The Pilgrims are Chased by Dogs.]
+
+After Blackheath the mist vanished, and the sun, gladdened by the sweet
+air, shone on the fields and woods, and the ugly barracks and pretty
+cottages by which we wheeled. Red-coated soldiers turned to look and dogs
+ran out to bark at us. In the meadows men and women leaned on their hoes
+and rakes to stare. From tiny gardens, overflowing with roses and
+sunflowers, children waved their delight. London was many miles behind
+when, at a few minutes before nine, we drew up on the bridge at Crayford.
+
+It seemed at first a sleepy little village. The only signs of life were on
+the bridge. Here about a dozen men were smoking their morning pipes, and
+as many boys were leaning over the wall, lazily staring into the river
+below, or at the cool stretches of woodland and shady orchards on the
+hillside beyond. But presently, as we waited, the village clock struck
+nine, and at once the loud bell in the factory on the other side of the
+little river Cray began to ring. One by one the older loungers knocked the
+ashes from their pipes and passed through the gate. The boys lingered. But
+their evil genius, in the shape of an old man in a tall white cap, came
+out, and at his bidding they left the sunshine and the river and hurried
+to work. A man with a cart full of shining onions went by, and we followed
+him up a hilly street, where the gabled and timbered cottages seemed to be
+trying to climb one over the other to reach a terrace of shining white
+houses at the top. The first of these was but one-storied, and its tall
+chimney-pot threw a soft blue shadow on the higher wall of the house next
+to it. On a short strip of ground which stretched along the terrace
+patches of cabbages alternated with luxuriant crops of weeds. In one place
+there were stalks of pink hollyhock and poles covered with vines, and in
+the windows above were scarlet geraniums. About them all there was a
+feeling of warmth and light, more like Italy than England. J. took out his
+sketch-book. Several women, startled by the novelty of strangers passing
+by, had come out and were standing in their small gardens. When they saw
+the sketch-book they posed as if for a photographer--all except one old
+woman, who hobbled down the street, talking glibly. Perhaps it was as well
+we did not hear what she said, for I think she was cursing us. When she
+was close at our side and turned, waving her hands to the other women, she
+looked like a great bird of ill-omen. 'Go in! go in!' she croaked: 'he's
+takin' of yere likenesses. That's wot he's arter!' Her wrath still fell
+upon us as we wheeled out of Crayford.
+
+[Illustration: Crayford, August 84]
+
+There were many pilgrims on the road; a few, like us, were on machines,
+but the greater number were on foot. As in Chaucer's day, both rich and
+poor go upon pilgrimage through Kent; but, whereas in his time there were
+monasteries and hospitals by the way where the latter were taken in at
+night, now they must find shelter under hedges or in dingles. Their lot,
+however, did not seem hard. It is sweet to lie beneath the sky now as it
+was when Daphnis sang. And the pilgrims whom we saw looked as if soft turf
+was luxury compared to the beds they had just left, for they belonged to
+the large army of hop-pickers who, every autumn, come from London to make
+the Kentish roads unsafe after dark and the householder doubly watchful.
+Whitechapel and other low quarters are nearly emptied at this season. It
+is pleasant to know that at least once a-year these people escape from
+their smoky, squalid streets, into green places where they can breathe
+pure air, but their coming is not welcomed in the country. Many poor,
+honest women in towns and villages thereabouts will rather lose a few
+shillings than let their children go to the hop-fields during the picking
+season, lest they should come away but too much wiser than they went. As
+we rode further the number of tramps increased; all the morning we passed
+and overtook them. There were grey-haired, decrepit men and women, who
+hobbled painfully along, and could scarcely keep pace with their more
+stalwart sons and daughters; there were children by the score, some of
+whom ran gaily on, forgetting fatigue for joy of the sunshine; others
+lagged behind, whimpering and weary; and still others were borne in their
+mothers' arms. Almost all these people were laden with their household
+goods and gods. They carried heavy bags thrown over their shoulders, or
+else baskets and bundles slung on their arms, and pots and kettles and all
+manner of household furniture. One man, more enterprising than the
+others, had brought a push-cart; when we saw it, two babies, almost hidden
+in a confused mass of clothing and pots and pans, were sleeping in it, and
+one clasped a kitten in her arms. Now, with a sharp bend in the road, we
+came suddenly upon a man sitting under a tree, who, though we rang our
+bell right in his ear, never raised his eyes from a hole in an old silk
+handkerchief he was holding; and now we came to a man and woman resting on
+a pile of stones by the roadside, who sat upright at the tinkling of our
+bell. I shall never forget the red and swarthy face of the woman as she
+turned and looked at us, her black hair, coarse and straight as an
+Indian's, hanging about her shoulders and over her eyes: she was
+unmistakably young in years but old in vice, and ignorant of all save
+evil--compared to hers an idiot's face would have been intelligent, a
+brute's refined. I could now understand why honest countrywomen kept
+their children from the hop-fields. As a rule, the tramps were as
+careless and jolly as Beranger's Bohemians, and laughed and made merry as
+if the world and its hardships were but jests. We, as figures in the
+farce, came in for a share of their mirth. 'That's right! ladies fust!'
+one old tattered and torn man called after us, gaily; 'that's the
+principle on which I allus hacts!' Which, I suppose, is a rough way of
+saying '_Place aux dames_.' A very little joke went a great way with them.
+'Clear the path!' another man cried to the women walking with him, as we
+coasted down the hill outside of Dartford: 'ere's a lady and gen'leman on
+a happaratus a-runnin' over us!' 'They're only a 'enjoyin' of 'emselves,'
+an old hag of the party added; 'so let luck go wi' 'em!' Then she laughed
+loud and long, and the others joined with her, and the sound of their
+laughter still reached our ears as we came into the village.
+
+[Illustration: _An Enterprising Pilgrim._]
+
+[Illustration: _An Indifferent Pilgrim._]
+
+[Illustration: _Unwelcome Pilgrims._]
+
+Dartford, from a cycler's point of view, is a long narrow street between
+two hills, one of which is good to coast, the other hard to climb. The
+place, as we saw it, was full of hucksters and waggons, and footmen and
+carriages, and we passed on without stopping, save by the river that runs
+near a church, with a tower and an unconventional clock looking out from
+one side instead of from the centre, which is the proper place for clocks.
+
+From Dartford to Gravesend the road became more pleasant every minute.
+Here and there were brown fields, where men were ploughing, or perhaps
+burning heaps of stubble, and sending pale grey clouds of smoke
+heavenwards; here and there were golden meadows where gleaners were busy,
+and then, perhaps, a row of tall, dark poplars, or a patch of brilliant
+cabbages. To the south, broad plains, where lazy, ease-loving cattle were
+grazing, stretched as far as the eye could see. To the north, every now
+and then, as the road turned, we saw the river, where ships were at
+anchor, and steamers were steaming up to London, and black barges, with
+dark-red sails, were floating down with the tide. The water was blue as
+the sky, and the hills in the distance seemed to melt into a soft purple
+mist hanging over them. By the road and by the river were many deep
+deserted quarries, whose white chalk cliffs could be seen from afar, while
+they brought out in strong contrast the red roofs of the cottages built at
+their feet. We came to one or two small villages and another church, with
+its tower and a clock awry, so that we wondered whether this was a fashion
+in Kent. And all along the hedges were white and pink with open
+morning-glories, and the trees threw soft shadows over the white road,
+and everywhere the air was sweet with the scent of clematis.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration: _Burning Stubble near Gravesend._]
+
+Gravesend is not a very striking place as you enter it from the road. It
+was to us remarkable chiefly for the Rosherville Gardens, which hitherto
+we had known only in our Dickens. But we found a pleasant 'ale-stake' by
+the river, where we rested to 'both drinke and biten on a cake;' or,
+rather, on substantial beefsteak and vegetables. There was no one else in
+the coffee-room, but one or two dogs strayed in from the private bar, and
+seeing we were at dinner became very sociable. The maid who waited on us
+was friendly too, and while J. was busy putting away the tricycle she was
+even moved to confide in me. She was the only maid in the house, she said.
+There had been another, but she had gone some time ago; 'and there's a
+jolly hard lot of work for one woman to do, ma'am,' she went on. 'I'm not
+used to it, and I can't stand it much longer. I've always been in a
+private before. It's easy enough to go from a private to a public, but to
+get from a public to a private again is another thing. Onst in a public is
+always in a public, ma'am!' Then some one called her. I was glad to have
+her go, for her way of telling her trouble had in it something of the
+Greek doctrine of fate, and so long as her eye was upon me I had an
+uncomfortable feeling, as if I were one of the instruments decreed from
+all time to work out her cheerless destiny. It was more agreeable to look
+out of the window on the little lawn in front, where two comfortable
+matrons were drinking beer, and a Blue-coat boy, home for the holidays,
+was running around, showing his orange legs to the best advantage. It was
+quiet on the river. Large steamers, small steam-tugs and row-boats, were
+lying at anchor. An old coastguard hulk was moored opposite, and an
+officer walked solemnly up and down the deck, every now and then halting
+to look through a spyglass for suspicious craft. But as we stood on the
+pier, after we had dined, the tide turned, and swiftly and silently all
+the boats turned with it. Tugs gave shrill whistles in warning of their
+speedy departure. Sail-boats unfurled their sails. Sailors came down the
+watersteps, leading from the houses built on high walls at the water's
+edge, and rowed quickly to the coastguard boat, saluted the solitary
+officer, and disappeared below. In the large P. and O. steamer, anchored
+at some distance from the pier, we could see the red turbans and white
+tunics of Lascars moving to and fro on the decks. The river was now as
+lively as it had before been quiet. But it monopolised the activity of the
+place, for when we went back for our tricycle we met only one or two
+seamen and a handful of children.
+
+[Illustration: _By the River at Gravesend._]
+
+When we set forth again the air was warm and sleep-inspiring. This,
+together with the consciousness of having well dined, it must be
+confessed, made us return to the pedals unwillingly. Not even the fact
+that a whole Sunday school, off for a picnic, waited to look at us, could
+stimulate us into speed. A sun-dial on a church tower just outside of
+Gravesend seemed to take us to task for our indolence. In large black
+letters on its white face it said--
+
+  'Be quick: your time's short!'
+
+But we knew better. Rochester was but seven miles off, and in Rochester we
+had made up our minds to sleep that night. The tramps had grown as lazy as
+we, but they did not even pretend to struggle with their laziness. All
+along the road we saw them lying under the hedges and in shady places.
+Some were asleep, others day-dreaming. Three women had roused themselves
+somewhat, and were making preparations for afternoon tea. They had kindled
+a fire by the wayside, and hung their kettle over it. A little further on,
+a mother and her children were just coming to the road from the deep,
+sweet shade of a dingle. On the hill beyond was a grey church, with a
+graveyard whose graves straggled down the hillside, and next to it a large
+farmhouse, with red roof and walls, whose colour was softened and
+harmonised by time. When the children saw we had stopped the machine they
+ran up at once to beg us to buy queer little round calico-balls, which
+they called pin-cushions. One had bright black eyes, and, not in the least
+discomfited by our refusal of the balls, danced merrily around the
+tricycle. Then she peered into J.'s sketch-book.
+
+[Illustration: _Afternoon Tea._]
+
+'He's drawrin!' she called to her mother, in a loud stage whisper.
+
+The latter bade her mind her manners. But she still continued her
+observations.
+
+'Oh, mother, it's the church!' was her next cry.
+
+'Which, I'm sure, it's a werry decent church,' the mother declared, as if
+to encourage us with her approval; and then they went their way.
+
+Later, when, as we were coasting down a hill, we overtook the party, the
+same child jumped and clapped her hands, 'It's goin' all by its lone
+self!' she screamed; but her sister trudged stolidly on, and spake never a
+word.
+
+Of the many places on the road to Canterbury, made famous by latter-day
+pilgrims, few are better known and loved than Gad's Hill, where honest
+Jack Falstaff performed his deeds of valour, and where Charles Dickens
+spent the last years of his life. We had counted upon making it, too, a
+station by the way. But whether it was that we were just then drifting
+along in lotus-eaters' fashion, our feet moving mechanically, or whether
+the prospect of another long coast made us forgetful of all else, certain
+it is that, with a glance of admiration at the dark spreading cedars, and
+another at the inn and its sign, adorned with the picture of Falstaff, we
+went by without a thought as to where we were. At the foot of the hill a
+baker told us that up yonder was the house where Mr. Dickens had lived.
+Were we already in danger of forgetting the aim of our pilgrimage? Would
+we sacrifice our great end for what we had intended to be but a means to
+it? 'Let us,' I said humbly, 'try to keep our wits from wool-gathering
+again, lest we ride through Rochester and Canterbury without knowing it!'
+We collected our thoughts in good time; for, lo! as mine host said to the
+monk, Rochester stands there hard by. Before many minutes we saw in the
+distance the town of Strood, and beyond it the broad Medway and Rochester,
+its castle and cathedral towering above the houses clustering about them.
+
+We stayed all night in Rochester. The early pilgrims went to the 'Crown.'
+But the 'Crown,' alas! stands no longer, and so we slept at the 'Queen's
+Head,' the C. T. C. headquarters. There is, somewhere in the city, the
+chapel where pious travellers of old stopped to pray, but we could not
+find it. The further we went the more it seemed as if we were in pursuit
+of a shadow. And, indeed, it was here that we discovered that even the
+road we had ridden over was not that along which mine host and his company
+had passed as they told their tales. There was no use, however, in our
+going back to London and starting out again, so as to take the right road;
+for, alas! it--that is, as far as Rochester--has gone the way of the
+Tabard and Crown. Only the yew-trees, planted at intervals along its
+course, survive to show where it once ran.
+
+After we had had our tea, we walked out in the twilight. The town deserves
+the name of Dulborough, given it by Dickens; and so, indeed, our little
+maid at the inn thought. There was nothing to do to amuse one's self, she
+said. She had been up to London for a month in the spring, and since then
+she couldn't abide Rochester.
+
+Having produced a Castle and ruined it, and a Cathedral and restored it,
+it has ever since rested on its laurels. We wandered a little way through
+the narrow twisting street, meeting only soldiers and a few young girls
+and men, and through the gabled gatehouse, where opium-eating Jasper
+lived; past the wonderful Norman doorway of the Cathedral and then to the
+Castle, where we rested awhile in the public garden the city has made
+around it. The pigeons had gone to roost, two or three women sat silently
+on the benches, a group of children played a singing game in the Pavilion.
+Away in the west, beyond the river, we could see the green and yellow
+fields and the poplars, radiant in the light of the afterglow; on the
+horizon, a dark windmill rose above the hillside like a sentinel on duty,
+and its long arms moved slowly around. It was even more peaceful down by
+the river: two men were pulling a long outrigger against the tide; a few
+heavy-laden barges floated up the stream with it. The figures of the men
+on board were silhouetted in black against the now fading western light.
+The red sails were furled and the masts slowly fell as the barges neared
+the bridge; noiselessly and swiftly they disappeared under the black
+arches. They seemed to carry with them all the sounds of the day; the
+silence of night came over the place, our voices sank lower, and we walked
+quietly back to the lonely street and to the Inn.
+
+
+
+
+Second Day
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Oh, what a Fall!
+
+
+
+
+Second Day
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+There was a little more stir in the place the next morning, but it was
+because it was filled with tramps, who were wisely taking advantage of the
+early coolness and hurrying on their way. But when we turned off the High
+Street the town was as still in the glare of day as it had been in the
+late twilight. The high brick walls of the private gardens might have
+enclosed dwelling-places of the dead rather than of the living, for not a
+sound came over them. The little pointed houses might have been sepulchres
+for all the signs of life they gave. The whole town, instead of one little
+street, should be called Tranquil Place. It seemed very characteristic
+that the Cathedral should be closed, and this at the season when the
+tourist is abroad in the land. It was being cleaned, an old man told us.
+We looked through the iron railing of the door into the nave, and at the
+marble floor, and the tall, white, rounded arches. 'It's like looking down
+the throat of Old Time!' Mr. Grewgious thought when he stood there. At
+the farther end by the chancel steps a charwoman was at work on bended
+knees. By her side was one small bucket. Here, truly, was a Liliputian set
+to do the work of Brobdignag. At that rate it is probable visitors were
+shut out for many months.
+
+After we had looked at the 'Bull,' which still reminds the public by a
+sign of the good beds enjoyed by Mr. Pickwick and his friends, at the Town
+Hall where Pip was apprenticed, at the many-gabled, lattice-windowed house
+in which Rosa Bud bloomed into young ladyhood, and were standing in front
+of the 'Six Poor Travellers'' lodging-place, reading the inscription over
+the door, and wondering who were the proctors classed with rogues who
+could not rest within, a benevolent Englishman passing that way fell upon
+us. He was a worthy fellow-citizen of Richard Watts. Seeing we were
+strangers, he, without waiting to be asked, bestowed upon us the charity
+of information.
+
+'Do you know what a Proctor is, Sir?' he asked, addressing himself to J.,
+who meekly, as befits one receiving alms, said that he did not. 'No! Well,
+then, I will tell you. It is a proc-u-ra-tor,--one who collects Peter's
+pence for the Pope, Sir. Richard Watts lived in the sixteenth century,
+when Protestantism made people feel bitterly, Sir, and he would have no
+friends of the Pope beneath his roof. Proc-u-ra-tor! That's what a Proctor
+is, Sir.'
+
+He had disappeared around the curve of the street before we had finished
+thanking him. As the information was new to us, I, with the common belief
+that others must be as ignorant as myself, now imitate his benevolence,
+and here bestow it in alms upon whoever may be in need of it.
+
+It was one o'clock when we mounted our tricycle and set out once more for
+Canterbury. The sky was still unclouded and the day warm, but a good
+breeze was blowing, and we were fresh for our ride. The streets of Chatham
+were as busy as those of Rochester were idle, and blocked with waggons, so
+that we had to fall in line and go at snail's pace. Once, with a sudden
+halt, we were brought so near a horse just in front, that my foot knocked
+against his leg; but he bore the blow stoically, as if he were used to
+Chatham streets. An American circus was about to start out on its grand
+street parade, and children hung about corners and out of windows. At the
+foot of the hill outside the town, and marked 'Dangerous' by the National
+Cyclists' Union, for the benefit of cyclers, two very small boys offered
+to 'Push it up, Sir!' but as it looked as if _it_ would push them down, we
+declined. At the top we met a cycler on his way from Canterbury, and he
+gave us evil tidings of the road. It became worse with every mile, he
+said, and it was heavy and hilly, and the dust was enough to stifle one.
+To this last statement his appearance bore good testimony.
+
+[Illustration: _The Marshes._]
+
+But at first we found it fair enough. From Chatham to Sittingbourne our
+journey was one of unmixed pleasure. The wheels went easily, and the wind
+blew on our backs. Now we passed on our right a vast treeless expanse,
+divided into squares of green, and golden, and brown, all shining softly
+in the sunlight, with here and there a windmill; but to the left we could
+see far below us the white line of the river winding between the flat
+grey marshes, where in Pip's day the escaped convicts prowled. Again we
+wheeled through small, sleepy villages, with church and tower half hidden
+in clumps of trees, and with red oasts, whose crooked cowls loomed up over
+the chimney-pots of the low cottages: for we had come to the hop country,
+and at every step the land of Kent grew fairer. Beyond Rainham the road
+lay between hop-gardens, as they are appropriately called, and
+cherry-orchards. In places the vines formed tall, shady hedges; in others
+the gardens were shut in by bare poles hung with coarse brown cloth, to
+defy the wind and the depredations of small boys, and other destructive
+animals: but the prettiest fields were those which were in no way hedged
+about, so that we could look down the long, narrow, green aisles, which
+seemed to lead to fields of light beyond. The vines twisted lovingly up
+the poles, which in many places bent beneath masses of green fruit, or
+else the topmost shoots crossed and intertwined from one pole to another,
+and the whole field was woven into a large arbour. Where the sunlight fell
+upon the green clusters it turned them to pure gold, and the leaves,
+blowing gently to and fro, seemed to rejoice in their great beauty. The
+cherry-orchards were so pretty and trim that I wondered if, like the
+hop-fields, they were not sometimes called gardens. The trees had been
+long stripped of their fruit, but their branches were well covered with
+cool green leaves, and their shadows met on the grass beneath. There was
+one in particular, before which we rested. Sheep were browsing placidly on
+the downy turf, and when we looked low down between the trees we could see
+the shining white river far in the distance. I half expected to hear a
+new Daphnis and Menalcas singing their pastorals in gentle rivalry.
+
+[Illustration: _A Cherry Orchard._]
+
+We met few people. The tramps who come down to Kent for the hop-picking
+turn off from Rochester to go to Maidstone, where the largest hop-fields
+are, and where there is more chance for them to be hired; but a
+comparatively small number go on to Canterbury. Some cyclers were making
+the most of the fine day. As we sat idly between the hop-gardens three
+passed us. Two rode a tandem; the third, a bicycle; but they were of the
+time-making species, for whom the only beauty of a ride is that of speed.
+Looking at them, and then at the sheep in a field beyond, I thought the
+latter were having the best of it. A little further on we met a party of
+three Frenchmen. One rode ahead on a bicycle, the two others followed on a
+tandem like ours. One of the latter, when he saw us, called out to the
+bicycler, '_C'est bon d'aller comme ca!_' I suppose he thought we should
+not understand him, and if we did--well, ought not a Frenchman always to
+be gallant?
+
+[Illustration: A Kentish Pastoral.]
+
+We rode on with light hearts. An eternity of wheeling through such perfect
+country and in such soft sunshine would, we thought, be the true earthly
+paradise. We were at peace with ourselves and with all mankind, and J.
+even went so far as to tell me I had never ridden so well!
+
+It was, then, in a happy frame of mind, that we reached the inn at
+Sittingbourne. It was an unassuming place, but quiet and clean; the bar
+was on one side of the hall, the coffee-room on the other. The latter was
+empty, and the landlady, after laying the cloth for our bread and cheese
+and shandy-gaff--of all drinks the most refreshing to the cycler--left us
+alone to study this printed notice, which hung in a frame over the door:--
+
+  'Call frequently,
+  Drink moderately,
+  Pay honourably,
+  Be good company,
+  Part friendly,
+  Go home quietly.'
+
+We soon had the opportunity of putting into practice one clause of this
+advice, for the door was suddenly burst open, and a short man with a bald
+head, who wore the Cyclists' Touring Club uniform, rushed in.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+'Are you the lady and gentleman that came on the tandem?' he asked, before
+he was quite in the room.
+
+We said we were.
+
+'I don't like tandems, do you?' he continued, fiercely, as if he were
+daring us to differ from him. He seemed to think we had come there that he
+might tell us his grievances; which he did, with much elaboration, while
+we ate our lunch. He and his wife had been down to Margate from London,
+and were now on their way back, he said. They had made the trip on a
+tandem; it was the first time he had ridden one, and it would be the last,
+for he didn't like tandems--they were horrid things! Did we like tandems?
+To avoid repetition, I may here mention that this expression of dislike,
+together with the query as to our opinion, was the refrain to everything
+he said. It was always given with the same interest and emphasis as if it
+were an entirely original remark. The only variation he made was by
+sometimes beginning with the statement, and at others with the question.
+He explained the reasons for his dislike. The principal was, that the
+people one met on the roads always insulted riders on a tandem. Why, he
+had been off his machine a dozen times that morning, fighting men who had
+been chaffing him! I thought, with a shudder, of the crowd of hucksters
+J. would have had to fight by London Bridge, had he been of the same mind.
+Then, the next objection was, that he had to sit behind his wife--she had
+to steer, and he would not be surprised if he were seriously injured, or
+even killed, before he got back to London. Women were heedless things, and
+easily frightened. His wife, who had joined us a few minutes before, here
+grew angry, and a slight skirmish of words followed between them: she
+reminded him of the dangers they had escaped through her nerve and
+skill; he recalled the dangers into which they had run owing to her
+thoughtlessness and timidity. But, just at this point of the discussion J.
+took out his watch. At sight of it the little man forgot his anger to
+pounce upon it, with never as much as 'An it please you!' Then, looking up
+in triumph, he exclaimed, 'I knew it! it's an American watch! They know
+how to make watches over there, but they're ruining our trade.' Then he
+explained that he was a London watchmaker, and he pulled out of his pocket
+a large substantial specimen of his workmanship.
+
+The talk now turning upon America, we told him, in answer to his
+inquiries, that we were Americans.
+
+'From Canada?' his wife asked.
+
+'Oh, no!' I answered; 'from Philadelphia.'
+
+'Dear me!' the watchmaker said; 'then you're _real_ Americans! But you
+speak English very well!'
+
+'Yes,' J. admitted, modestly. 'But then, you know, English is sometimes
+spoken in our part of the world!'
+
+All this made the fierce little cycler very friendly, and he next wanted
+to know where we were going.
+
+'To Canterbury,' we said.
+
+'To Canterbury!' he cried; and then, to give greater force to his words,
+he came and stood directly in front of us on the other side of the table.
+'To Canterbury! Well, then, my advice to you is, if you have no other
+object than pleasure, don't go! No, don't you go! I've been there, and I
+know what I say. It's a rotten place. There's nothing in it but an old
+cathedral and a lot of old houses and churches, and they charged me
+sixpence for keeping my tandem one night. I don't like tandems-horrid
+things! Do you like tandems? Yes, it's a rotten place, and if I had my way
+I'd raze it to the ground!'
+
+I now understand why it is that Mr. Matthew Arnold thinks the average
+Briton so very terrible.
+
+By this time we had finished our lunch, and were ready to start. The
+watchmaker and his wife had engaged in another battle. She did not agree
+with him in his opinion of Canterbury. Indeed I believe they did not
+agree upon any one subject, and the tandem had tried their tempers. They
+had both said they wanted to see us off, and to compare machines; but we,
+being modest people, thought we would as lieve escape without their
+comments and farewells. This seemed a favourable opportunity. In the heat
+of the argument we left the room and paid our bill, without their noticing
+our retreat; but just as we had mounted our tricycle, and were wheeling
+softly away, we heard a voice calling, 'Oh, I say now! do come back a
+minute: I want to show you my machine!' It would have been more than
+uncivil to have refused, so we sat patiently while the much-abused tandem
+was brought out. The owner, in his pride, rode out on it, pedalled by us,
+and then wheeled round and faced us with an abruptness that fairly took
+away our breath. It was the shortest turn I have ever seen, and I waited
+for the end with the same uncertainty with which one watches a trapeze
+performance. Then there was some little talk about bells and brakes, and
+tyres and saddles. In the meantime the landlady, with two or three of her
+friends, had come out, and was staring at us with a curiosity for which I
+could not account. But presently she said, 'Are you going back soon?' And
+then I knew she had heard we were Americans, and had come to have a look
+at these strange people who had sailed across the sea, apparently for no
+other reason than to test the cycling properties of the roads of Kent.
+After this exhibition was over we said good-bye very pleasantly, and rode
+off, followed by their wishes for our good luck, while the watchmaker
+called out encouragingly, 'You Americans ride pretty well; but I don't
+like tandems. Horrid things! Do you like tandems?'
+
+But their wishes were the only good luck we met with. We had not gone far
+from Sittingbourne, when we admitted that the pilgrim we had met just
+outside of Chatham was no false prophet after all; for the road now began
+to be heavy with sand and rough with flints. And oh, the hills! They were
+not very steep, but I was a novice in cycling. No sooner were we on
+up-grades than I exhausted myself by my vigorous back-pedalling. I have
+heard the uninitiated say that tricycling must be _so_ easy, just like
+working the velocipedes of our childhood. But let them try! The country
+had lost none of its beauty. Fields were as green and golden, orchards as
+shady, and sheep as peaceful, as those we had seen before lunch. There
+were little churches on hilltops and pretty dingles by the wayside;
+handsome country-houses with well-kept lawns, and fields where cricketers
+were playing, and young girls in gay-coloured dresses were applauding;
+and there were old-fashioned farm-houses and quaint inn-yards. We passed
+through villages by which little quiet rivers ran, some with boats lying
+by the shore, and others, as at Ospringe, where horses and waggons were
+calmly driven through the water. But the heaviness had spread from the
+road to my heart, and all joyousness had gone from me.
+
+[Illustration: _A Farmhouse near Rochester._]
+
+[Illustration: _A Little River._]
+
+The worst of it was, that as the road here wound little, we could see it
+miles ahead--a white perpendicular line on the purple hill which bounded
+the horizon. We knew this must be Boughton Hill, the fame of whose
+steepness has gone abroad in the cycling world. With the knowledge of what
+was to come ever before me, I began to pedal so badly that J. told me so
+very plainly, and said, moreover, that I was more of a hindrance than a
+help to him. For some time we rode on very silently. Earlier in the
+afternoon we had been passed by a man driving an empty carriage, of whom
+we had asked one or two questions. He had stopped to watch the
+cricket-match, but he now overtook us, and, to add to my misery, asked me
+if I would not like him to drive me into Canterbury. All this was hard to
+bear.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Finally, we came to Boughton, a small village with ivy-grown houses and a
+squirrel and a dolphin staring at each other amicably from rival inns. It
+is right at the foot of Boughton Hill. Now that we were near it, the white
+line we had seen for so long widened into a broad road, but it looked no
+less perpendicular. It was here that Chaucer's pilgrims
+
+                      'gan atake
+  A man that clothed was in clothes blake,
+  And undernethe he wered a white surplis.'
+
+There is no record that mine host and the Chanones Yeman dismounted and
+walked to rest their horses. But all the many waggons and carriages and
+cycles we saw above us on the modern road were being led, not driven.
+Halfway up was an old lumbering stage, with boxes piled on the top, and
+big baskets and bundles swinging underneath. The driver was walking; but a
+tramp, who had made believe to push when on level ground, now sat
+comfortably on the backseat, taking his ease. A little lower was the
+friendly driver with his empty carriage, for he had rested at the
+'Squirrel,' and so we had caught up to him again. At the top we looked
+back to see that the West was a broad sea of shining light. A yellow mist
+hung over the plain, softening and blending its many colours. Far off to
+the north the river glittered and sparkled, and a warm glow spread over
+the green of the near hillsides. The way in front of us was grey and
+colourless by comparison. It was almost all down-hill after this. Did I
+want to be driven into Canterbury, indeed? My benevolent friend might now
+have asked us to pull him in. The stage made a show of racing us, but we
+gave it only a minute's chance. An officer in braided coat driving a drag
+passed us triumphantly while we were on our up-grade; but when we came
+again to a level we left him far behind.
+
+  'Wete ye not wher stondeth a litel toun,
+  Which that ycleped is Bob up-and-doun,
+  Under the blee in Canterbury way?'
+
+It is better known now as Harbledown. A little of our trouble here came
+back, for the road leading to that part of it 'ycleped Bob-up,' was steep
+and heavy, and we had to walk. To our right were the old red-brick
+almshouses and the little church of St. Michael, one of the many oldest
+churches in Kent, and of which all we could see was the ivy-covered tower.
+It was here that Henry, when on his way to the holy shrine, dismounted,
+that, as became his humble calling of pilgrim, he might walk into
+Canterbury. And it was here, too, that the Person began his long-winded
+discourse. But we, less reverent than King Henry, now mounted again; and,
+less phlegmatic than the Person, we held our peace. For as we rode further
+up we heard far-away chimes, just as Erasmus did when he went from
+Harbledown; and there gradually rose before us a tall, grey tower, then
+two more, and at last, as we reached the top of the hill, we saw in the
+plain below the great Cathedral itself, standing up far above the low red
+roofs of Canterbury. We were almost at our goal.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A little further on we passed a hop-field, where the picking had already
+begun. In one part the poles were stripped of their vines, so that it
+looked as if the farmer had reaped for his sowing a crop of dead
+sticks. In the other the poles were still green, but the day's work was
+just over. Women were packing up kettles and pans, jugs and bottles, and
+stowing babies and bundles into perambulators, while two or three men were
+going the rounds with bag and basket, measuring the day's picking, and
+marking off the account of each picker by notching short, flat pieces of
+wood held up for the purpose. In the road beyond a large cart, packed with
+well-filled bags, was being drawn homewards by three horses, while a young
+man rode up and down the green aisles. 'I beg your pardon, Sir,' a farm
+hand said to J., who had been sketching, 'but you've been takin' some of
+our people, and now you hought to take our Guvnor on his 'oss;' and he
+pointed to the young man. All the way into the town we passed groups of
+pickers: women with large families of children, small boys with jugs and
+coats hung over their shoulders, and young girls with garlands of hops
+twisted about their hats, and all were as merry as if they had been on a
+picnic. We saw them still before us, even after we had turned into Saint
+Dunstan's Street, from which the gold of the afterglow was fast fading,
+and were riding between the quaint, gabled houses, through whose
+diamond-paned windows lights were beginning to appear. Before us was the
+old, grey-towered city gate, through which royal and ecclesiastical
+processions and knights and nobles once passed, but where we now saw only
+the tramps who had arrived at the eleventh hour sitting at its foot with
+their bags and baggage.
+
+[Illustration: Westgate from without.]
+
+We 'toke' our inn at the sign of the 'Falstaff,' without the gate. Honest
+Jack, in buff doublet and red hose, hanging between the projecting windows
+and far out over the pavement by a wonderful piece of wrought-iron work,
+gave us welcome, and within we found rest and good cheer for weary
+pilgrims. Then we 'ordeyned' our dinner wisely, but it was too late to go
+to the Cathedral that same evening, as we should have liked to have done,
+and we were forced to wait for the morrow. After we had come downstairs
+from our dimity-curtained bed-chamber, had dined, and were sitting over
+our tea in a little, low-ceilinged room, from whose window we looked into
+a pretty garden of roses and grapevines, a stranger sent us greeting, and
+asked if he might come and sit with us. He was a priest, also making
+pilgrimage, who had ridden from Rochester on a machine like ours; so that
+we became friendly forthwith, and, like the pilgrims who rested at the
+'Chequers of the Hope,' every man of our party
+
+          'in his wyse made hertly chere,
+  Telling his felowe of sportys and of chere,
+  And of other mirthis that fellen by the way,
+  As custom is of pilgrims and hath been many a day.'
+
+And just before we parted for the night we held counsel together and
+agreed that, in the morning, we would in company visit the holy shrine.
+
+
+
+
+Third Day
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A Tale of the Verger.
+
+
+
+
+Third Day
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+We rose early the next day, and, that we might be in all possible things
+like the men in whose steps we were walking, we 'cast on fresher gowns'
+before we started to walk through the town. Then, after we had
+breakfasted, we set out with our new friend for the Cathedral. Our way led
+through the gate, on which the sun shone brightly, and where tramps were
+still waiting to be hired; and then through the High Street, filled with
+other pilgrims, who spake divers tongues, who wore not sandal, but canvas
+shoon, and who had their 'signys' in their hands and upon their 'capps,'
+for many had puggarees about their hats, and still more carried red
+guide-books. The air was warm, but fresh and pure as if the sea-breeze had
+touched it; and the gables and carvings of the old houses were glowing
+with sunlight. The reflection of the red roofs and of geraniums and
+hollyhocks in gardens by the way made bright bits of colour in among the
+tall reeds of the little river Stour, and as we went slowly along we
+talked, as befitted the occasion, of bygone times, for at every step we
+were reminded of those earlier travellers whose humble followers we were.
+Here we came to the Hospital of St. Thomas, now an almshouse, of old the
+place where poor pilgrims found shelter; and here, in the ground-floor of
+a haberdasher's shop, we saw a few arches of what was once the
+'Chequers of the Hope,' where the rich were lodged; and so, when in
+Mercery Lane, where the houses almost met above in a friendly,
+confidential way, we saw a man in cocked-hat and knee-breeches and much
+gold lace, it seemed as if he, like everything else in Canterbury, must be
+a relic of the olden time.
+
+[Illustration: _Waiting to be Hired._]
+
+[Illustration: On the Stour.]
+
+'I must know who that fellow is!' the priest exclaimed; and, without more
+ado, walked up to him and boldly addressed him thus: 'Ahem!--I say
+now--who are you, any way?'
+
+And the man, in his wonder, forgot to take offence, and answered, 'Why I,
+Sir, am the town crier!'
+
+Talk of Yankee cheek indeed!
+
+Then we went on down the lane, past the round marketplace, where women
+were selling sweets, and under the stone gateway with its time-worn
+tracery, to the south porch of the Cathedral, where a tricycle was
+standing. As the pilgrims had to pray before they could approach the
+sacred tomb, so we, after we had entered the nave, had to wait and listen
+to morning service. Then we were told that no one could go to the shrine
+unless led thither by the verger. There was nothing to do but to fall into
+the ranks of a detachment of tourists on their way to it. With them we
+were marshalled through the iron gate, separating the choir from the
+chapels, by a grey-bearded, grey-haired man, who kept his eye sternly
+upon us as we deposited our sixpences, our modest offerings in place of
+'silver broch and ryngis.'
+
+'Where is the shrine?' we asked, as soon as we were on the other side of
+the gate.
+
+'The shrine which it lies but a few steps further on,' the verger
+answered; 'and you will come to it in good time.'
+
+Then he showed us the 'horgan and its pipes, which they lie in the
+triforium,' and the 'Norman Chapel of Saint Hanselm, which it is the
+holdest part of the building,' and about all of which he had much to say.
+But we interrupted him quickly. 'Take us to the shrine,' we commanded. But
+just then another tourist, eager for information, began to ask questions
+not only about the Cathedral, but about the whole city. Before we knew
+where we were, she had carried us all out to Harbledown, and then, without
+stopping, whisked us off to Saint Martin's-on-the-Hill. This was too much.
+We started to find the shrine for ourselves, but our friend the priest ran
+after us.
+
+'You must wait for the verger,' he said. 'I hope you don't mind my telling
+you; but then, you know, you're Americans, and I thought you mightn't
+understand.'
+
+[Illustration: Canterbury, from the river.]
+
+His interest by degrees extended from us to the rest of the party. By some
+peculiar method of reasoning he had concluded that, because we were
+Americans, all who were following the verger, except himself, must be so
+likewise. Every now and then he would dart from our side to ask each one
+in turn, in a gentle whisper, 'You're an American, are you not?' The
+results were not always satisfactory. I saw one Englishman, with John Bull
+written in every feature, glare at him in suppressed rage; while a lady,
+after saying, rather savagely, 'Well, is there any harm in being one?'
+dismissed him abruptly, as if to remind him that not she, but the
+Cathedral, was the show.
+
+The verger lingered on the broad stairway, 'which the pilgrims they
+mounted it on their knees, as is seen by the two deep grooves in the stone
+steps.' He stood long by the tomb of Prince Hedward, the Black Prince, and
+when we came to the stone chair used only when archbishops are
+consecrated, he deliberately stopped, to suggest that some lady might like
+to sit in it, 'though which it won't make her a harchbishop,' he added.
+Then at last he led us to the chapel just beyond, and close to the choir.
+He waited until we had all followed and formed a semicircle around him,
+then he pointed to the pavement,--
+
+'Which now,' he said, solemnly, 'you have come to the shrine of the
+saintly Thomas.'
+
+We had reached our goal. We stood in the holy place for which Monk and
+Knight, Nun and Wife of Bath, had left husbands and nunnery, castle and
+monastery, and for which we had braved the jests and jeers of London
+roughs, and had toiled over the hills and struggled through the sands of
+Kent. Even the verger seemed to sympathise with our feelings. For a few
+moments he was silent; presently he continued--
+
+''Enery the Heighth, when he was in Canterbury, took the bones, which they
+was laid beneath, out on the green, and had them burned. With them he took
+the 'oly shrine, which it and bones is here no longer!'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Shrine and Tabard, Chapels and Inns by the way, all have gone with the
+pilgrims of yester-year.
+
+
+_FINIS._
+
+
+  _London: Printed by_ STRANGEWAYS & SONS,
+  _Tower Street, Upper St. Martin's Lane._
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE***
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