where we understood we should meet with every thing comfortable; but, to
our disappointment, we found a most miserable, dirty pot-house, destitute
of even the common comforts of life. I recollected Shenstone’s
complimentary lines on an inn, but could not apply them on the present
occasion:
“Whoe’er has travell’d life’s dull round,
Where’er his stages may have been,
May sigh to think that he has found
The warmest welcome at an inn.” {82b}
The road from Haverford to Newgin we found very uninteresting; and the
shell of