I thank Heaven--and it is no small matter, for surely one may be thankful for a good inn--that there yet remain many old inns in this Old England of ours, and that it is not yet quite (although nearly) a misdemeanour for the wayfarer to drink a tankard of ale and eat a modest lunch of bread and cheese in a stone-flagged, sanded rustic parlour; or even, having come at the close of day to his halting-place, to indulge in the mild dissipation and local gossip in the bar of an old-time hostelry.
This is one of the last surviving joys of travel in these strange times when you journey from great towns for sake of change and find at every resort that the town has come down before you, in the shape of an hotel more or less palatial, wherein you are expected to dine largely off polished marble surroundings and Turkey carpets, and where every trace of local colour is effaced. A barrier is raised there between yourself and the place. You are in it, but not of it or among it; but something alien, like the German or Swiss waiters themselves, the manager, and the very directors and shareholders of the big concern.
At the old-fashioned inn, on the other hand, the whole establishment is eloquent of the place, and while you certainly get less show and glitter, you do, at any rate, find real comfort, and early realise that you have found that change for which you have come.
But, as far as mere name goes, most inns are "hotels" nowadays. It is as though innkeepers were labouring under the illusion that "inn" connotes something inferior, and "hotel" a superior order of things. Even along the roads, in rustic situations, the mere word "inn"--an ancient and entirely honourable title--is become little used or understood, and, generally speaking, if you ask a rustic for the next "inn" he stares vacantly before his mind grasps the fact that you mean what he calls a "pub," or, in some districts oftener still, a "house." Just a "house." Some employment for the speculative mind is offered by the fact that in rural England an inn is "a house" and the workhouse "_the_ House." Both bulk largely in the bucolic scheme of existence, and, as a temperance lecturer might point out, constant attendance at the one leads inevitably to the other. At all events, both are great institutions, and prominent among the landmarks of Old England.