1776,) which states, that well-attested facts "rendered it certain and notorious that those persons were, with much rancour and bitterness, disaffected to the American cause;"-- for which reason they were requested to go and remain in durance at Winchester, in Virginia.

How they protested at Philadelphia against being taken into custody--protested again at the Pennsylvania line against being carried out of that state--protested again at the Maryland line against being taken into Virginia--and ended by protesting at Winchester against everything in general--it is all written in the Book of the Chronicles of the Valley of Virginia, by Mr.Samuel Kercheval, and also in an interesting Philadelphia publication, "Friends in Exile." To this day the old sun-dial in the garden of "Bousch's Tavern" has upon it the inscription: "_Exul patria causa libertates_" with the names of the unfortunate exiles written under it--always provided that the dial itself remains, and the rain, and snow, and sun, have not blotted out the words.

That they were there, the present chronicler knows upon good authority.
How the exiles passed their time at Winchester, and finally returned, will, some day, be embodied in authentic history.
It was many years after the quaker inroad; in fact the eighteenth century, with all its philosophical, political, and scientific "protests" everywhere, was nearly dead and gone, when another scene occurred at Bousch's tavern, which history knows something of.

As that august muse, however, does not bury herself with personal details, we will briefly refer to this occurrence.
It was about mid-day, then, when a carriage, with travelling trunks behind it, and a white, foreign-looking driver and footman on the seat before, drew rein in front of the old hostelry we have described.
The footman descended from his perch, and approaching the door of the carriage, opened it, and respectfully assisted two gentlemen to alight.

These gentlemen were dressed with elegant simplicity.
The first had an oval face, which was full of good-humor, and in which an imaginative eye might have discerned an odd resemblance to a _pear_; the second, who seemed to be his brother, was more sedate, and did not smile.
The gentlemen entered the inn, and asked if dinner could be furnished.
The landlord replied that nothing could be easier, and called their attention to a noise which issued from the next room.
The elder gentleman, whose accent had indicated his foreign origin, approached the door which led into the dining-room, followed by his companion.
They looked in.
A long table, covered with a profusion of everything which the most robust appetite could desire, was filled with ploughmen, rough farmers, hunters from the neighboring hills, and a nondescript class, which were neither farmers, ploughmen, nor hunters, but made their living by conveying huge teams from town to town.