so unexpected: there is a wonderfully added charm about pleasures that are unanticipated. This is why it is so enjoyable to travel through a fresh country with all before you unknown and therefore pregnant with possibilities; the mind is thus kept ever in an agreeable state of expectancy, wondering what each new bend in the road may reveal; and what a special interest there lies in the little discoveries that one makes for oneself! Could a guide-book be produced giving particulars of all one would see on a tour, so that one would always know exactly what to expect everywhere, I make bold to say that a tour undertaken with such a perfect companion would not be worth the taking!

But to get back to the "George" at Huntingdon. There, straight in front of us, stood a goodly portion of the ancient inn, unlike the exterior, happily unmodernised—a fact for all lovers of the beautiful to be deeply grateful for. This bit of building retained its ancient gallery, reached by an outside stairway (so familiar in old prints and drawings of such inns), and in the great tiled roof above, set all by itself in a projecting gable, was the hotel clock, that doubtless erst did duty to show the time to a generation of road-travellers in the days before the despotic reign of the steam-horse, when corn and hay, not coal and coke, sustained the motive power.

It

It

This unchanged corner of a famous old coaching hostelry spoke plainly of the picturesque past. was not a painter's dream, it was a reality! suggested bits from Pickwick, and sundry scenes from novels of the out-of-date romantic school.

AN INN TO OUR LIKING

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Indeed, it must formerly have been quite a Pickwickian inn, and in our mind's eye we conjured up a picture in which the immortal Sam Weller was the chief character, standing in the courtyard below flirting with the neat be-ribboned maids above as they leaned over the open gallery, when for a moment business was slack in the yard, and the chamber bells had a brief respite from ringing. The building and courtyard had a genuine oldworld flavour about them that was very charming, and to add to its interest and attractiveness the building was not decayed or ruined, as so many of the kind are, but was well preserved and maintained, so that it must have looked to us much the same as it did in the days of our ancestors-peace be to their ashes!

At the " George" we were received by a motherly landlady with a welcoming smile, that made us feel more like an expected guest arriving than an utter stranger seeking food and shelter for a time; this ready greeting in the good old-fashioned style promptly recalled to memory Shenstone's famous and often-quoted lines as to the warmness of the welcome a traveller may find at an inn.

So much to our liking were both landlady and hostelry, that we forthwith determined to stop the night beneath the sign of the "George at Huntingdon, though it was only then mid-day. "I really must make a sketch of your pretty courtyard!" I exclaimed to the landlady, after returning her greeting with thanks, for we were always most particular to repay courtesy with courtesy. "Oh! do

wait till to-morrow," she begged, "as you are staying on, for I have ordered some flowers and plants to put round about the yard. They will be here this afternoon, and the place will look so much nicer with them." So smilingly we consented to wait till to-morrow, when the flowers and shrubs would be in evidence. It was something to feel that so charming a relic of the past was thus prized and cared for. Picturesqueness begets picturesqueness; as a pretty house calls for tasteful things about it, so a picturesque bit of old building like this mutely begs for flowers and plants to complete its pleasantness.

As we had the whole afternoon on our hands, we determined to do a little local exploring. The only point to be considered was, in which direction we should go. To settle this our map was consulted, and from it we learnt that the ancient town of St. Ives was only, by rough scale measurement, some four to five miles off; moreover, we noted that our newly-made friend the Ouse flowed between the two towns with many a bend that suggested pleasant wanderings; and as we were informed that there was a footpath by the riverside, the wanderings were feasible. So we made up our minds to get to St. Ives somehow, by railway if needs be and a train served, and at our leisure to follow the winding stream afoot back to Huntingdon. We felt a strong desire to become better acquainted with the Ouse, as the few peeps we had already caught of its quiet beauties much impressed us; still, we had a haunting dread of being disappointed with a wider view, so often have