Unter den alten New England Inns; ein Konto der kleinen Reisen in verschiedene urige Gasthäuser und Wirtshäuser in Colonial New England. Apropos dieses wehave Eine charakteristische Geschichte von Continentalsoldiery. Ein Regiment hatte gerade einen forcedmarch von der Vorsehung und hungrig, WEA- ther-geschlagen und mit Müdigkeit theyreached dieses Inn gebrochen. Wenn das WAG von thecrowd gewahr der Mann auf dem Schild mit hismotto, Oh, wie soll ich sie durch thisworld, rief er, mit einem rueful Blick athis eigene geschlagene Person, Liste, verdammt!", und youll erhalten durch diese Welt fastenough. Mit der Hancock Taverne in Mais Hof, wo

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Among old New England inns; being an account of little journeys to various quaint inns and hostelries of colonial New England . Apropos of this wehave a characteristic story of Continentalsoldiery. A regiment had just made a forcedmarch from Providence and hungry, wea-ther-beaten and broken with fatigue theyreached this inn. When the wag of thecrowd espied the man on the sign with hismotto, Oh, how shall I get through thisworld, he exclaimed, with a rueful look athis own battered person, List, darn ye!List, and youll get through this world fastenough. With the Hancock Tavern in Corn Court, where Talleyrand is said by some to havestayed during his visit to Boston in 1795there is connected a story of romantic iftragic interest. The diplomat took a fancyto a delicately-worked pen-knife in thelandlords possession and ofifered to buy itwhereupon it was given to him with thecompliments of mine host. Soon after leav-ing America Talleyrand w^ent to Homburgand there became enamoured of a beautifulbaroness known to the world as Cordelia.This woman in her turn admired the pen-knife and with a kiss and a jest her lover 102. HANCOCK TAVERN, BOSTON The Inns of Old Boston gave it to her. Later he deserted her andshe was found dead on the floor of herapartment with an open note addressed toM. de Talleyrand on the table by her side. I have burned all your letters, this noteread. They do no honour to my memorynor to your heart. You are the author ofmy death; may God forgive you as I do.The lovely baroness had stabbed herselfto the heart with that pen-knife which hadonce been the property of a Boston boniface. T03 CHAPTER VI SOME REVOLUTIONARY TAVERNS The tavern was the breeding-place parexcellence of the Revolution. What morenatural than for a lot of men, sitting arounda blazing fire and talking by the month oftheir wrongs, to say finally to each otherLet us rebel! Flip all around and thenmore flip would be drunk to this reso-lution; after which our sturdy forefathers |would go home i

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