that he substituted another and more appropriate design in the form of a fountain pouring punch into a large bowl. This "Fountain Tavern" had substantial platforms in two large shade trees connected with each other and the house by bridges. In these tree nests the traveler might sit through the long afternoon or in the early twilight, cool and remote among the branches, drinking tea; watching horsemen and cartmen, and sturdy pedestrians come and go, and the dashing mail coach rattle. up, a flash of color and noise and life, pour out its motley passengers, and speedily roll away with renewed patrons and splendor.

Concerning this old sign the following interesting incident is vouched for. Just after the battle of Lexington and Concord, a company of Yankee soldiers were on their way from Ipswich to the seat of war. Passing through Georgetown, they came to the old inn, over the front entrance of which hung the portrait of General Wolfe, swinging in the brisk morning breeze. Up to this time of "unpleasantness" between the mother country and our own. the memory of the brave Wolfe had been revered and loved alike by Englishmen and Americans. But now, in their intense hatred of everything British, the soldiers halted, lifted their old flint locks to their shoulders and riddled with bullets the offending sign. Several passed clean through it, while a few remained imbedded in the wood, and are plainly discernible at the present time.

An old tavern at Medford displayed a sign representing two old men shaking hands and bowing, which gave to the place the name of "The Palaver's Tavern." But it proved so offensive to the innkeeper

Among the several ancient inns standing at the present time, is one in Byfield, Massachusetts, kept by "Old J. P." as he was familiarly known, from the fact that these initals were stamped on the barrels of rum with which his cellar was filled. This tavern of Jeremiah Pearson's was a lively center on Muster days, and many a yarn was spun across the board in Independence Hall, so christened at a dinner given the returned troops after

while two bunches of the grapes are stored in a steel vault in the Masonic Temple, Boston, for the Masons take every precaution to preserve this old relic of the inn, in which all the meetings of the oldest benevolent association in New England were held in 1767-8. Here also the first President of the the United States stayed. The tavern of "The Bunch of Grapes" was moved to Congress Street, and here General Stark came after his victory at Bennington. Here also General Rufus Putnam and Manasseh Cutter, the moving

In the settlement of his son's (Fisher Ames) estate, a suit was brought into court. This so disgusted the inn-proprietor, that, although the suit was decided in his son's favor, he expressed his dislike by causing the whole court to be painted on a sign board for his tavern. So faithfully were each of the judges represented, they could not fail to be recognized. The august court heard of the proceeding and sent a sheriff to seize the sign. Ames was in Boston at the time, and hearing of their intention, rode post haste to Ded

ham, reaching the tavern first, and in time to save the sign before the sheriff's arrival. What a thriving business would the sign painters of today have, and where should we find space for the signs, if all men showed their disgust of law suits in this manner?

A sign verse which hung in front of "Mother Red Cap Inn," Holway, England, and which was reproduced on ancient signs in America, savors strongly of our dear old Mother Goose, and possibly these old dames were relatives.

"Old Mother Red Cap, according to her tale,

Lived twenty and one hundred years, by drinking this good ale;

It was her meat, it was her drink, and medicine beside;

And if she still had drunk this ale, she never would have died."

lic houses became greater, more attention being paid to the preferences of guests. A public parlor became a necessity for the entertainment of private parties, and gradually the tavern became more like a well-to-do private house, where one could receive the best of care.

Although a few of the original New England taverns still exist, many of those now standing are more recent ones built on the same site and bearing the same name. The house at Stockbridge, Massachusetts first built in 1773, and added to from time to time, was on the stage route between Boston and Albany, and was a large and popular hotel when burnt in 1896. In the public room of the present tavern, which was re-built on the old site, is a collection of old-fashioned furniture, crockery and bric-a-brac, con

sidered by collectors of the antique, the best in the country. What better advertisement could any hotel of our day want than the reputation which these inns have won,-that of hospitality, bountiful store and upright management.

"The Wayside Inn" at Sudbury, Massachusetts, made famous by Longfellow's "Tales of a Wayside Inn" was the assembly place of the soldiers after the Battle of Lexing

ton.

"Wright's Tavern" at Concord calls to mind a thrilling scene when Major Pitcairn, the British commander, stirring a glass of brandy with his bloody finger the morning before the Battle of Concord, boasted that he would thus stir the blood of his enemy before night. A great structure once stood on the site of the present Stearns Building, Salem, Massachusetts, known as the "Tavern with many peaks" later on as "The Ship Tavern." Here was formed the Social Library in 1760. The "Salem Coffee House" was kept in a building near the site of St. Peter's church, while "Thomas

Beadle's Tavern" stood on Essex Street, nearly opposite its present juncture with Pleasant Street. In this latter house were held the preliminary examinations in witchcraft times.

Many Manchester-by-the-Sea people will tell you of one Elizabeth Crafts, an ancient innkeeper of that town, who went to Boston either by packet or on horseback for her goods. She was an industrious woman and sitting on the deck of the vessel one day, knitting, the sail suddenly veered and Elizabeth was knocked overboard. Tradition, that truth teller, says that she kept on with her knitting and took seven stitches under water before being rescued. This remarkable woman also had a romance. A Scotchman, before leaving his native land, dreamed of a fair-haired American girl with a blue ribbon in her hair. That very night Mrs. Crafts, then a young girl, dreamed that she married a sailor. Not long after the lad's arrival in Boston, he spent the Sabbath in Lynn. Entering the meeting house (this act being the