In England the toll-gate was let to the highest bidder, and the man who rented it had to stand the risk of loss by his bargain. But this encouraged him to overcharge when able, or to give wrong change; especially was this possible at night. Although it flattered our vanity to be charged for the Runaway Bedstead the same as for a coach and four, because we had four wheels, we felt it a heavy drain on our pockets, that were not too well filled. We sought where possible, when riding, to evade the turnpike. This was manageable for certain distances, but no town could be entered without the exaction of a toll. There were old pack-horse lanes that could be utilized, but, as these were not kept in repair, it precluded galloping, cantering or trotting on them, and so deprived a ride of more than half the pleasure expected, and as to the Bedstead travelling on them, that was impossible.
After all, the exaction of tolls was more just than the present extortion of way-rates, for those paid who used the roads, and paid in proportion as they used them; whereas by the rates many have to pay who have no conveyances, and trollies, and waggons charged with heavy burdens that tear roads to pieces pay no corresponding charge. Traction engines rip a newly metalled highway to pieces in a very short time.
About this time I began to collect the scraps of the old rood-screen and the oak bench-ends that had been turned out of the church by my grandfather when he revolutionized the interior in 1832 to make it spick and span for my Uncle Charles, on his appointment to the living. The screen had been wholly swept away, and the carved benches displaced to make room for deal pews, painted mustard-yellow, and a pulpit to match. Altar-cloth and pulpit-hangings were blue fringed with yellow, as being the family colours, and the carved oak ribs and bosses of the waggon-head roof of the north aisle were similarly painted. I found the benches, some piled up in the tower, some with scraps of the screen in the wood-house, to be used as fuel in the hall. I collected what I could, and I positively loved every fragment so recovered.
One evening late, our coachman came to the house in a nervous condition, and told my father that there was a bluish light in the church.
