Moll Davis

Somewhere about the western angle now formed by the junction of Oxford Street and the Charing Cross Road, there stood in the year 1661 The Mischief Inn. It was a substantial building, consisting of two gabled sections, divided by a third and wider having a pent-roof, and forming with the others a deep recess, in whose ground quarters was plentiful accommodation for the stabling of horses. At the level of the first story ran a railed wooden balcony, common to all the bedrooms behind; and in the yard below were rough benches and trestle-tables disposed about, where customers might forgather to discuss, over their pipes and purl, such topics as went seasonably with them-it might be his popular Majesty's latest roguery, or Old Mob's, almost as great a thief and favourite. The Mischief, standing as it did on the great highway running east and west, formed a convenient terminus for travellers journeying from the contiguous wilds of Berkshire and Wiltshire, the majority of whom, for reasons of economy, came by waggon. This was a vast road craft, with a tilt, and tyres to its wheels a foot wide, whose consistent record of progress never exceeded three miles to the hour. It was drawn commonly by six sturdy roadsters in double harness, and bearing yokes with swinging bells at the hames of their collars; and time was never of the essence of its contract. But it was safe, if slow, being well prepared and armed against surprises, which were by no means of infrequent occurrence by the days-long way, especially as London was approached.