With the disuse of stage-coaches has perished that public convenience,
the country tavern, an institution with which the modern hotel has
little in common. It was suited to the needs and tastes of a former
generation, and to a time, it may be,

"When men lived in a grander way,
With ampler hospitality."

But no hotel of the present day, with its showy furnishings and glitter,
its gongs and bell-calls, its multitude of obsequious waiters, gauging
their attention by your clothes, will bear comparison with the old-time
tavern for homelike comfort and hearty good service. The guest, on his
arrival, tired and hungry, was not put off with the cold recognition of
a clerk who simply wrote after his name the number of his room, and then
with averted face said: "Waiter, show this gentleman to number
ninety-seven." On climbing out of the stage-coach, he was sure to see
mine host, a fat, jolly man, who greeted him, whether friend or
stranger, with a bow of genuine welcome, relieved him of his
hand-luggage, ushered him in before the open fire of the bar-room, and
actually asked what he would have for supper. Nor did this personal
interest cease as soon as the guest had been comfortably bestowed; for
the landlord was sure to have some pleasant words with him in the course
of the evening, and to make him feel, ere he went to rest, that, by
coming at that particular time, he had conferred on the host or some
other guest a special favor, so that he retired in the best of humor
with himself.

Such inns of entertainment were to be found in every considerable New
England town a hundred years ago, and each bore some special reputation
for general hospitality, the cordiality of its landlord, or the