I examined the board, and found it was a sign,--a hanging sign,--and on it was painted in letters that were yet quite plain: "FARMERS' AND MECHANICS' HOTEL." I called to Euphemia and told her that I had found the old tavern sign.
She came to look at it, and I pulled it out.
"Soldiers and sailors!" she exclaimed; "that's funny." I looked over on her side of the sign, and, sure enough, there was the inscription: "SOLDIERS AND SAILORS' HOUSE." "They must have bought this comprehensive sign in some town," I said.
"Such a name would never have been chosen for a country tavern like this.

But I wish they hadn't taken it down.

The house would look more like what it ought to be with its sign hanging before it." "Well, then," said Euphemia, "let's put it up." I agreed instantly to this proposition, and we went to look for a ladder.

We found one in the wagon-house, and carried it out to the sign-post in the front of the house.

It was raining, gently, during these performances, but we had on our old clothes, and were so much interested in our work that we did not care for a little rain.