The Bridgeport evening farmer. [volume] (Bridgeport, Conn.) 1866-1917, 1917-06-01
OLDP0ST ROAD INN
QUAINT, COLONIAL
TOURIST RETREAT
Famous Eating Place Re.
tains Same Atmosphere
of Old Hospitality

OF Old hospitality
1t rained Sunday morning, but there
was a possibility that it might clear
off, therefore with heavy hearts, for 1t
was the end of a three days vacation,
we bundled into the car and turned to
the south. It happened to be one OF
those days when i'll luck sits ON the
running board and disaster turks
round corners Of the road.
One trifiing accident followed another,
delay upon delay, until we knew that
we could not reach New, York that
night until very late. IT wish we could
strike a good inn,'' said Jack, straight
ening UP after a session of repairs ana
looking gloonily across the misty
green landscape.
1T wish we could too,' said I, for the
prospect of the city with tumulcous
STREETS and tall dark buildings was alb
horrent to me after our three days on
green fields and trees, with all the
May air full of the sweetness OF ap-
pie blossoms, a flltter with wings and
sounding with bird calls. All this had
taken me captive.
The car was then behaving nicely
and the road ran under the wheels
like a white stream bordered with
green. Over tiny ridges we rolled
where brown brooks, swollen with the
rain, rushed swiftly, tearing at their
banks. One rounded hill after an
other passed us. Fields like patchwork
squares reached to the horizon. Some
times a wooded height shoubdered UP
against the sky. Finally as dusk de-
scended and the hills seemed to close
In round us, we reached, after
smooth long hill climb, a level plateau
where the road swung through a
shaded village street.
The spires of two white churches
glimmered through the treetops
There as a signboard with a gay land
scape painted thereon. "Brookfield
Center and the date as more than
a century ago.. 'tBrookfield," said Jack
'.I'll bet no brooks run up to this
place" .sOh. there's the inn," cried
And truly 1t was. A signboard hung
out with a silhouette of a black stage
coach on a white ground, and the
sign in black and red letters. "Oad
Post Road Inn"
An old Connecticut house with a
fair, green dooryard was shrugged UT
against a low-1ying ledge OF rocks. II
bling. 18th two huge chimneys. Irregu-
Lar porchess amid balconies chung to one
side. There were great trees in front
AS the car stopped the front door
opened, lights appeared, and a. digni-
fled black man wearing white linen
came walking, softly down the flag
ged path.
Eyes SIR certainly there was sup
| per.
Eyes SIR nice accommodations ovel
night.
Eyes SIR the car could be put ii
the barn.
A few minutes later we were In
front of an open fire in a quaint room
a room Of honey delight. The chairs
| and a big couch with many cushions
were covered with chintz. There were
old Windsor chairs and comb backs
of a remote period. There ere "s1at
bacl1s'' and easy chairs to receive
wear people with thenr open arms
Across a big dark chest as a blue AND
white coverlid. Portraits of famou.
personages adorned the alks. A IA
blue pitcher held branches Of apple
blossoms and a queer black earther
bowl was filled with red ounce bios
SONS. The floors were Of stout Ok
oaken planks and Jack found out they
were all dazed. The doors were hank
hewn and polished, painted white, and
all hinges and catches were wrough
Iron.
| Now this is al true thing an admits
of no argument. There are men anS
| women who charm us with an agree
able and fascinating hypocrisy, ant
we cannot tell lies from truth man!
times, but the rooms Of a house speal
PHI inly and truthfully Of the peopl
who dwell In them And so we knew
from the atmosphere, that there wa.
hospitality, happiness and abount1ini
peace under the roof Of the Post Roaa
Inn
Supper was soon ready in long
How dining room and here were tw'
fire places, both glowing. In one wa
Ian old iron crane from which hung
black kettle steaming quietly over tn
flames. For supper there was a no
clam bisque to begin with, then fol
lowed fried chicken, creaIned potatoes
fresh rolls, salad of lettuce and to
matoes and coffee. Conserves of rio
pear and plum in old glass dishe
were on the table. For. desert wer
some especially delicious rhubarb tart
with ruffled edges of delicate crus1
81 shall never leave this place.
Il whispered Jack when we finished SUE
per-.
"Oh, look said I pointing to tn
fireplace where hung from it's strins
, an old pamphlet, Farmers Almanac
1857 Thine is no more said 1. W
shall not have to co.
Later, greatly comforted after
bath in a white tiled tub, in a tbatr
room lighted by electricity, fe
asleep in a peaceful pink and whit
bedroom, to dream of long winiiin
! roads, green fields, flashes of wins
in the orchards and hilltops tbs
reached to the clouds.