st, from which swung the sign of the Earl of Halifax. The
landlord was a stanch loyalist--that is to say, he believed in the king,
and when the overtaxed colonies determined to throw off the British
yoke, the adherents to the Crown held private meetings in one of the
back rooms of the tavern. This irritated the rebels, as they were
called; and one night they made an attack on the Earl of Halifax, tore
down the signboard, broke in the window-sashes, and gave the landlord
hardly time to make himself invisible over a fence in the rear.

For several months the shattered tavern remained deserted. At last the
exiled innkeeper, on promising to do better, was allowed to return; a
new sign, bearing the name of William Pitt, the friend of America, swung
proudly from the door-post, and the patriots were appeased. Here it was
that the mail-coach from Boston twice a week, for many a year, set
down its load of travelers and gossip. For some of the details in this
sketch, I am indebted to a recently published chronicle of those times.

It is 1782. The French fleet is lying in the harbor of Rivermouth, and
eight of the principal officers, in white uniforms trimmed with gold
lace, have taken up their quarters at the sign of the William Pitt. Who
is this young and handsome officer now entering the door of the tavern?
It is no less a personage than the Marquis Lafayette, who has come all
the way from Providence to visit the French gentlemen boarding there.
What a gallant-looking cavalier he is, with his quick eyes and coal
black hair! Forty years later he visited the spot again; his locks were
gray and his step was feeble, but his heart held its young love for
Liberty.

Who is this finely dressed traveler alighting from his coach-and-four,
attended by servants in livery? Do you know that sounding name, written
in big valorous letters on the Declaration of Independence--written as
if by the hand of a giant? Can you not see it now? JOHN HANCOCK. This is
he.

Three young men, with their valet, are standing on the doorstep of the
William Pitt, bowing politely, and inquiring in the most courteous terms
in the world if they can be accommodated. It is the time of the French
Revolution, and these are three sons of the Duke of Orleans--Louis
Philippe and his two brothers. Louis Philippe never forgot his visit
to Rivermouth. Years afterwards, when he was seated on the throne of
France, he asked an American lady, who chanced to be at his court, i