He is a
good man, as his bitters are good,--an unquestionable goodness. Not what
is called a good man,--good to be considered, as a work of art in
galleries and museums,--but a good fellow, that is, good to be associated
with. Who ever thought of the religion of an innkeeper--whether he was
joined to the Church, partook of the sacrament, said his prayers, feared
God, or the like? No doubt he has had his experiences, has felt a change,
and is a firm believer in the perseverance of the saints. In this last, we
suspect, does the peculiarity of his religion consist. But he keeps an
inn, and not a conscience. How many fragrant charities and sincere social
virtues are implied in this, daily offering of himself to the public. He
cherishes good will to all, and gives the wayfarer as good and honest
advice to direct him on his road as the priest.
To conclude, the tavern will compare favorably with the church. The church
is the place where prayers and sermons are delivered, but the tavern is
where they are to take effect, and if the former are good, the latter
cannot be bad.
