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JAMES W. WITHEE, Landlord of the Stoddard House, Farmington.
A KEEPER of the wayside inn, a teller of quaint tales. A host, whose tavern-door stands wide. whose welcome never fails Whose fires leap high and, on whose board a generous cheer prevails.
I wish I had his kindly art, good storIes to relate, I wish I had his memory of the very day and date. "You understand, suh, if I had. I wouId e-Iu-ci-date."
I'd tell you tales of other days, upon the turf of Maine --Those struggles on the Pittsfield track; when Getchell drew the rein; When "Togus Boy" -- well, Togus Boy; there's something in a name!
I'd tell you of the talent that supposed they knew the horse; How, frequently, they tried to hold Friend Withee up for loss And how, the only thing they got was "hosses" and re-morse.
I'd tell you of the good he's done to traveler and to beast. The inns he's been the landlord of, for forty years at least; --Where comfort's ministered. In joy. to one perpetual feast.
I've known him-for he's been mine host: his stories my delight; His kindly purpose I well know; I know his heart is right. So pray I, on a weary road, I reach his inn, at night.
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