We got to Great
Grimsby in time for a very lamentable lunch in a hostelry near
the station, kept, I think, for such "poore people" as the
Pilgrims were, with stomachs not easily turned by smeary marble
table-tops with a smeary maid having to take their orders, and
her ineffective napkin in her hand. The honesty as well as the
poverty of the place was attested, when, returning to recover a
forgotten umbrella, we were met at the door by this good girl,
who had left her bar to fetch it in anticipation of all question.
At Great Grimsby, it seemed, there was no vehicle but a very
exceptional kind of cab,--looking like a herdic turned wrongside
fore, and unable to orient itself aright,--available for the long
drive to that "large comone a good way distante from any towne,"
which we were to make, if we wished to visit the scene of the
Pilgrims' sufferings in their second attempt to escape from their
dread lord. In this strange equipage, therefore, we set out, and
nine long miles we drove through a country which seemed to rise
with increasing surprise at us and our turnout on each inquiry we
made for the way from chance passers.
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