in 1851, and famous men of later days.

The Buckman Tavern, where the patriots assembled, built in 1690,
still stands with its marks of bullets and flood of old
associations.

These ancient hostelries--Monroe's, Buckman's, Wright's in
Concord, and the Wayside Inn--are by no means the least
interesting features of this historic section. An old tavern is as
pathetic as an old hat: it is redolent of former owners and
guests, each room reeks with confused personalities, every latch
is electric from many hands, every wall echoes a thousand voices;
at dusk of day the clink of glasses and the resounding toast may
still be heard in the deserted banquet-hall; at night a ghostly
light illumines the vacant ballroom, and the rustle of silks and
satins, the sound of merry laughter, and the faint far-off strains
of music fall upon the ear.

We did not visit the Clarke house where Paul Revere roused Adams
and Hancock; we saw it from the road. Originally, and until 1896,
the house stood on the opposite side of the street; the owner was
about to demolish it to subdivide the land, when the Historical
Society intervened and purchased it.

Neither did we enter the old burying-ground on Elm Street. The
automobile is no respecter of persons or places; it pants with
impatience if brought to a stand for so much as a moment before a
house or monument of interest, and somehow the throbbing, puffing,
impatient machine gets the upper hand of those who are supposed to
control it; we are hastened onward in spite of our better