Situate on the York Road, one of the greatest coach roads in England, with open Heath on all sides, it would have been strange indeed if Royston and the neighbourhood had not got mixed up with traditions of Dick Turpin, and that famous ride to York in which we get a flying vision as the horseman passes the boundaries of the two counties. The stories of Dick Turpin, regarded as an historical figure, would not quite fall within the limits assigned to these sketches, but as { 14} the traditions in this district which have become associated with the name of Turpin, are a real reflection of a state of things which did undoubtedly prevail in this locality during the latter half of the last century, a passing reference to them will scarcely be out of place in this concluding sketch of the old locomotion and its dangers. The stories have unquestionably been handed down orally from father to son in this neighbourhood, without, I believe, having appeared in cold type hitherto. There is, for instance, the tradition of a young person connected with one of the well-known families still represented in the town, being accosted by a smart individual in a cocked hat, who insisted upon kissing her, but gave her this consolation that she would be able to say that she had been "kissed by Dick Turpin."
Among other stories associated with Dick Turpin, which have gained a local habitation in Royston and its neighbourhood, the best known is that which clings around the old well (now closed) in the "Hoops" Yard in the High Street and Back Street, though other wells have been coupled with the scene. As the story goes, Turpin on one occasion played something of the part of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, with his horses. Having a sort of duplicate of Black Bess, he used this animal for his minor adventures in this neighbourhood, reserving Black Bess for real emergencies. He had been out on one of these errands, probably across the Heath, leaving Black Bess in the stables in the Hoops Yard in the Back Street. As luck would have it he was so hotly pursued by the officers of the law, that the pattering of their horses was pretty close upon him down the street. Finding himself almost at bay, with the perspiring horse to testify against him, he conceived and promptly carried out the bold expedient of backing the tell-tale horse into the well in the inn yard! He had only just accomplished this desperate feat and rushed into the house and jumped into bed, when his pursuers rode up and demanded their man. With the utmost coolness the highwayman denied having been out, and advised them to examine his mare, which they would find in the stall, and they would see that she had never been out at all that night. The party proceeded to the stables where they found, as Turpin had told them, that Black Bess was indeed without a wet hair upon her and could not have been ridden! They were obliged to accept this evidence as establishing Turpin's innocence, and he escaped the clutches of the law by the sacrifice of one of his steeds!