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dug out。 I might be a week here；weeks！
There was a story with a singular idea in it； connected with an Inn I
once passed a night at in a picturesque old town on the Welsh border。 In
a large double…bedded room of this Inn there had been a suicide committed
by poison； in one bed； while a tired traveller slept unconscious in the other。
After that time； the suicide bed was never used； but the other constantly
was； the disused bedstead remaining in the room empty； though as to all
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other respects in its old state。 The story ran； that whosoever slept in this
room； though never so entire a stranger； from never so far off； was
invariably observed to come down in the morning with an impression that
he smelt Laudanum； and that his mind always turned upon the subject of
suicide； to which； whatever kind of man he might be； he was certain to
make some reference if he conversed with any one。 This went on for
years； until it at length induced the landlord to take the disused bedstead
down； and bodily burn it；bed； hangings； and all。 The strange influence
（this was the story） now changed to a fainter one； but never changed
afterwards。 The occupant of that room； with occasional but very rare
exceptions； would come down in the morning； trying to recall a forgotten
dream he had had in the night。 The landlord； on his mentioning his
perplexity； would suggest various commonplace subjects； not one of
which； as he very well knew； was the true subject。 But the moment the
landlord suggested 〃Poison；〃 the traveller started； and cried； 〃Yes！〃 He
never failed to accept that suggestion； and he never recalled any more of
the dream。
This reminiscence brought the Welsh Inns in general before me； with
the women in their round hats； and the harpers with their white beards
（venerable； but humbugs； I am afraid）； playing outside the door while I
took my dinner。 The transition was natural to the Highland Inns； with the
oatmeal bannocks； the honey； the venison steaks； the trout from the loch；
the whisky； and perhaps （having the materials so temptingly at hand） the
Athol brose。 Once was I coming south from the Scottish Highlands in
hot haste； hoping to change quickly at the station at the bottom of a certain
wild historical glen； when these eyes did with mortification see the
landlord come out with a telescope and sweep the whole prospect for the
horses； which horses were away picking up their own living； and did not
heave in sight under four hours。 Having thought of the loch…trout； I was
taken by quick association to the Anglers' Inns of England （I have assisted
at innumerable feats of angling by lying in the bottom of the boat； whole
summer days； doing nothing with the greatest perseverance； which I have
generally found to be as effectual towards the taking of fish as the finest
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tackle and the utmost science）； and to the pleasant white； clean； flower…
pot…decorated bedrooms of those inns； overlooking the river； and the ferry；
and the green ait； and the church…spire； and the country bridge； and to the
pearless Emma with the bright eyes and the pretty smile； who waited；
bless her！ with a natural grace that would have converted Blue…Beard。
Casting my eyes upon my Holly…Tree fire； I next discerned among the
glowing coals the pictures of a score or more of those wonderful English
posting…inns which we are all so sorry to have lost； which were so large
and so comfortable； and which were such monuments of British
submission to rapacity and extortion。 He who would see these houses
pining away； let him walk from Basingstoke； or even Windsor； to London；
by way of Hounslow； and moralise on their perishing remains； the stables
crumbling to dust； unsettled labourers and wanderers bivouacking in the
outhouses； grass growing in the yards； the rooms； where erst so many
hundred beds of down were made up； let off to Irish lodgers at
eighteenpence a week； a little ill…looking beer…shop shrinking in the tap of
former days； burning coach…house gates for firewood； having one of its
two windows bunged up； as if it had received punishment in a fight with
the Railroad； a low； bandy…legged； brick…making bulldog standing in the
doorway。 What could I next see in my fire so naturally as the new
railway…house of these times near the dismal country station； with nothing
particular on draught but cold air and damp； nothing worth mentioning in
the larder but new mortar； and no business doing beyond a conceited
affectation of luggage in the hall？ Then I came to the Inns of Paris； with
the pretty apartment of four pieces up one hundred and seventy…five
waxed stairs； the privilege of ringing the bell all day long without
influencing anybody's mind or body but your own； and the not…too…much…
for… dinner； considering the price。 Next to the provincial Inns of France；
with the great church…tower rising above the courtyard； the horse…bells
jingling merrily up and down the street beyond； and the clocks of all
descriptions in all the rooms； which are never right； unless taken at the
precise minute when； by getting exactly twelve hours too fast or too slow；
they unintentionally become so。 Away I went； next； to the lesser roadside
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Inns of Italy； where all the dirty clothes in the house （not in wear） are
always lying in your anteroom； where the mosquitoes make a raisin
pudding of your face in summer； and the cold bites it blue in winter； where
you get what you can； and forget what you can't： where I should again
like to be boiling my tea in a pocket…handkerchief dumpling； for want of a
teapot。 So to the old palace Inns and old monastery Inns； in towns and
cities of the same bright country； with their massive quadrangular
staircases； whence you may look from among clustering pillars high into
the blue vault of heaven； with their stately banqueting…rooms； and vast
refectories； with their labyrinths of ghostly bedchambers； and their
glimpses into gorgeous streets that have no appearance of reality or
possibility。 So to the close little Inns of the Malaria districts； with their
pale attendants； and their peculiar smell of never letting in the air。 So to
the immense fantastic Inns of Venice； with the cry of the gondolier below；
as he skims the corner； the grip of the watery odours on one particular
little bit of the bridge of your nose （which is never released while you stay
there）； and the great bell of St。 Mark's Cathedral tolling midnight。 Next I
put up for a minute at the restless Inns upon the Rhine； where your going
to bed； no matter at what hour； appears to be the tocsin for everybody
else's getting up； and where； in the table…d'hote room at the end of the long
table （with several Towers of Babel on it at the other end； all made of
white plates）； one knot of stoutish men； entirely dressed in jewels and dirt；
and having nothing else upon them； will remain all night； clinking glasses；
and singing about the river that flows； and the grape that grows； and Rhine
wine that beguiles； and Rhine woman that smiles and hi drink drink my
friend and ho drink drink my brother； and all the rest of it。 I departed
thence； as a matter of course； to other German Inns； where all the eatables
are soddened down to the same flavour； and where the mind is disturbed
by the apparition of hot puddings； and boiled cherries； sweet and slab； at
awfully unexpected periods of the repast。 After a draught o