: The Drummer Boy by Trowbridge J T John Townsend - United States History Civil War 1861-1865 Juvenile fiction

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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A COMMON INN AND INNKEEPER.

The last kiss was given--the last embrace over--and, amid a storm of hurrahs and laughter and a hailstorm of old slippers and uncooked rice, we dashed away from my two-hours' bride's father's country mansion in the new family carriage, on our wedding tour. The programme was that we were to stay at the little village of Blank that night, and on the morrow we expected to reach the city of Noname, where we would be able to find conveyances more in accord with the requirements of the last quarter of the nineteenth century of grace than a carriage and pair.

Arm in arm and hand in hand we sat during the long, bright June afternoon, as the prancing grays hurried us along the country roads--now beside grassy meads, now beneath o'erhanging forest trees, then up hill, next down dale, while little squirrels raced along beside us on the fence tops, or little streamlets dashed along near by, bubbling, foaming, roaring and sparkling in the sheen of the merry sunshine, and the broad fans of insect angels gently waved over their golden disks as they floated past; all nature, animate and inanimate, smiling merrily upon us, as if quite conscious who and what we were. But little did we note the beauties of sky or field, cot or hamlet, bird or flower, for was it not our first drive since the mystic word of the white-robed minister of the Church had made of us twain one flesh? The beauties of the other's face and disposition absorbed the contemplation of each of us. Once or twice, indeed, I felt inclined to make a remark or two anent the fields we passed; but remembering that I knew not a carrot from a parsnip, until it was cooked, or wheat from oats, except in the well-known forms of bread and porridge, and not wishing to be like Lord Erskine, who, on coming to a finely cultivated field of wheat, called it "a beautiful piece of lavender," I refrained.

Love in itself is very good, But 'tis by no means solid food; And ere our first day's drive was o'er, I found we wanted something more.

So when at last, as the shadows began to lengthen and still evening drew on, we espied in the valley beneath us the village in which was our intended resting place, I exclaimed:

"Ah! there's our inn at last!"

"At last! so soon wearied of my company!" chid my bride, in gentle tones. "But why do people talk of a village 'inn' and a city 'hotel'? What is the difference between a hotel and an inn?"

"There is no real difference," I replied, glad to have the subject changed from the one Mrs. Lawyer had first started. "The distinction is but one of name, for a hotel is but a common inn on a grander scale. Inn, tavern, and hotel are synonymous terms."

"What do the words really mean?"

"Well, what is the derivation of 'inn'?" queried my wife.

"I was just going to say that that is rather obscure, but is probably akin to a Chaldaic word meaning 'to pitch a tent,' and is applicable to all houses of entertainment. Inns there were in the far distant East thirty-five centuries and more before you appeared to grace this mundane sphere; although, when the patriarch Jacob went to visit his pretty cousins, he was not fortunate enough to find one, and had to make his bed on the ground, taking a stone for his pillow."

"And very famous in after years did that just mentioned pillow become," said Mrs. L., interruptingly. "And much pain and grief, as well as glory and renown, has it brought to those who have used it."

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