There is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced, as by a good tavern or inn. Boswells Johnson, March, 1776.
Whoeer has travelld lifes dull round, Whereer his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn. Shenstone.Written at an Inn at Henley.
Along the varying road of life, In calm content, in toil or strife, At morn or noon, by night or day, As time conducts him on the way, How oft doth man, by care oppressd, Find in an inn a place of rest? William Combe.Doctor Syntax, Chap. IX.
Whereer his fancy bids him roam, In evry inn he finds a home. Will not an inn his cares beguile, Where on each face he sees a smile? William Combe.Doctor Syntax, Chap. IX.