Colonial Coffee

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

Pewter Coffee Pot

It was a dark and stormy afternoon…and my foggy brain craved some coffee before starting this blog post. I knew my mind could use a hefty dose of caffeine to get the wheels of creativity turning.

It was just yesterday, when I was measuring the rich brown grounds into my French press, that a thought occurred to me. When exactly did coffee come to America? I knew that tea had been the most popular beverage in the colonies up until the Tea Party in Boston—a rebellion that sent cases of tea leaves floating in the murky harbor. But what about coffee?

The answer may surprise you as much as it did me. Coffee, tea, and chocolate all arrived in the American colonies at about the same time in the late 17th century.

Coffee originated in the Arab countries but live plants were transported to greenhouses in Holland in 1616. From there, the Dutch began to grow this popular bean in India and Java (now called Indonesia). Within a few years, the Dutch were the main suppliers of coffee to Europe.

According to the International Coffee Organization, the first European coffeehouse opened in Venice in 1683. It was called Caffe Florian in Piazza San Marco and it is still open for business today! And Lloyd’s of London—the largest insurance market in the world? It also started out as a coffee house.

Metal and China Coffee Pots

Now, the Holland connection brings up another interesting tidbit from my research. A mortar and pestle for “braying” coffee beans into powder was brought over on the Mayflower in 1620 by William and Susanna White (two of the passengers). The emigrants onboard the Mayflower had resided in Holland for a time before leaving for the New World. Thus, the first coffee may have arrived with the first colonists arriving at Plymouth, although there was no record of the beans actually carried as cargo onboard.

The first literary reference to coffee consumption in North America is from 1668, when coffee houses were established in New York, Philadelphia, Boston and other cities. Often these coffee houses also served other beverages such as tea, ale and cider.

In 1773, the coffee house known as the Green Dragon, became the location where enraged colonists planned the Boston Tea Party to protest British taxes on tea. I imagine lots more coffee than tea was served there after that date.

A reference to coffee and tea is found in Shirley Glubock’s Home and Child Life in Colonial Days:

“In 1670, a Boston woman was licensed to sell coffee and chocolate, and soon coffee houses were established there. Some did not know how to cook coffee any more than tea, but boiled the whole coffee beans in water, ate them, and drank the liquid; and naturally this was not very good either to eat or drink.

At the time of the Stamp Act, when patriotic Americans threw the tea into Boston Harbor, Americans were just as great tea drinkers as the English. Coffee-drinking, first acquired in the Revolution, has also descended from generation to generation, and we now drink more coffee than tea. This is one of the differences in our daily life caused by the Revolution.”

Johnson Brothers Coffee Pot

Just one of the many differences, indeed.

My favorite excerpt about coffee and the American Revolution was an incident recorded by Abigail Adams in 1778, and quoted in Revolutionary Mothers by Carol Berkin:

“An eminent, wealthy, stingy merchant (also a bachelor) had a hogshead of coffee in his store, which he refused to sell…under six shillings per pound. A number of females, some say a hundred, some say more, assembled with a cart and trunks, marched down to the Warehouse and demanded the keys which he refused to deliver. Upon which one of them seized him by his neck and tossed him into the cart. Upon his finding no quarter, he delivered the keys when they tipped up the cart and discharged him; then opened the Warehouse, hoisted out the coffee themselves, put it into the trunks and drove off…a large concourse of men stood amazed silent spectators.”

Wow. I guess the moral of that tale, is never stand between a woman and her coffee—especially during a Revolution!

(Pewter Coffee Pot from ColonialSense.com)

A Vessel for Him

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

Staring at the suitcase on my bed, an audible sigh escaped. Fighting back tears, I turned to my constant companion, Jesus.

Lord, I just want to go home.

I had just arrived at the conference center after a long day of traveling by planes and automobiles (but no trains, unless you count the underground subway at the airport). It had been a month fraught with family concerns as well as travel and my inner resources had depleted to the point of exhaustion.

Why did I come?

I did not know anyone there except through online friendships. Would I even recognize anybody? I felt even more awkward when I realized how many people there had lovely southern accents. Certain that my Massachusetts/California/Iowa accent would sound harsh, I wondered if I would stick out like a dissonant note in a melodious orchestra of voices.

Am I supposed to be here?

There were many conferences available throughout the year but I truly felt the Holy Spirit drawing me to this time and place. Clinging to that thought for reassurance, I refreshed myself as best I could and trudged to the first dinner and meeting.

I prayed that God would strengthen my exhausted body and guide me in the next few days to follow His purpose for why I was there.

When we all gathered together for praise and worship time, we were led by a wonderful composer named Lynn DeShazo. She is the author of “Ancient Words” which happens to be one of my favorite songs.

The lyrics melted my heart because I knew that I was not here at this time and place for me. I was here for HIM—to be a vessel of use for His work here on earth and to praise Him with all of my being.

Holy Words long preserved
For our walk in this world.
They resound with God’s own heart.
O let the ancient words impart.
Words of life, words of hope,
Give us strength, help us cope.
In this world, where e’er we roam,
Ancient words will guide us home.

Singing with hundreds of other voices of fellow writers, submitting myself to Him in praise and humble worship, I experienced just a little taste of heaven.

I am so blessed that I got to see a glimpse.

While I have come away from this conference with a heart full of new friends that I cherish, it is the ancient words found in God’s Holy Bible that will forever be the most treasured memory of my obedience to Him.

Ancient words ever true,
Changing me and changing you,
We have come with open hearts,
O let the ancient words impart.

Beauty Under Pressure

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

***WINNER**of The Promise of Deer Run! Janet Grunst! Congratulations!***

On a recent trip to Los Angeles, I was excited to visit a museum I had not been to in many years: the Natural History Museum. Eagerly anticipating huge displays of dinosaur bones, I was not disappointed. Remnants of large lizards from long ago filled the large halls and display cases, reminding me anew of the incredible variation in God’s creation.

What really surprised me on this visit, however, was the room filled with geologic crystals. It was a display I had apparently forgotten about. Talk about God’s creation! The variety of colors and rock formations from all over the world was astonishing and beautiful.

When I got to the display of amethyst, I paused, utterly amazed. The magnificent purple quartz was embedded deep inside the cavity of an ugly, ordinary rock.

Staring at the glass-encased exhibit, I read the brief explanation of the precious stone’s formation. It explained something about the amethyst being formed by the cooling of heated ground water, silica, and deposits lining the walls of rock cavities. What?

Further research into this process revealed to my inquiring mind that heat and pressure play a role in causing these openings in the rocks which then allows—in some mysterious fashion to my non-scientific understanding—the development of the lovely, shining quartz within. Beauty forming under pressure when the heat is on—from an ordinary, ugly rock.

God seems to work His way in our ugly sin nature in a similar fashion. He applies the heat of duress in our lives, and takes what could be an unattractive shell and infuses it with His perfection through trials that He allows in our lives to change our sinful nature into something of polished refinement.

Crystals of holiness, wrought through the pressures that will mold us into the shining creation He wants us to be.

“In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen Him, you love Him; and even though you do not see Him now, you believe in Him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.” (1Peter 1:6-9 NIV)

Meet “Reflections” on John 3:16 Blog Hop Tour

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

Welcome, Friends!

My usual post here every other Friday is my Revolutionary Faith column, as I discuss all things about book research as well as Colonial America, my particular area of interest. On the other Fridays, I post devotionals that will hopefully inspire my readers to draw closer to the Lord.

But this week a wonderful network of Christian writers and readers that I belong to is doing a Blog Hop Tour to spread the word about their wonderful books as well as their inspirational blogs. On top of that, John 3:16 (the network group) is also offering free books AND the chance to be in a drawing for two kindle giveaways!! Not a bad contest. But you must leave comments to be entered in the drawings.

Here is the link to all 50 plus blog tour participants:

http://reflectionsinhindsight.wordpress.com/wp-mepvo1a-1vm/

So go ahead…hop around and visit these wonderful websites, leave comments, and hopefully, you too will be a winner of one of these prizes!

Those who leave comments on my blog that I have linked to above, will be entered into a drawing to win a copy of both The Road to Deer Run and The Promise of Deer Run. Please leave your e-mail addy so I can contact you.

Have a Blessed Friday!

Now available on kindle and soon to be released in paperback:

The Legacy of Deer Run

The Legacy of Deer Run (The Deer Run Saga)

Sunday Book Review: The Map Quilt by Lisa J. Lickel

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

What could more intriguing than a contemporary mystery/romance about buried treasure that’s also filled with history? The Map Quilt by Lisa J. Lickel is a fun and satisfying read for the grown ups that still long for an involving mystery that provides plenty of detail without overemphasizing the grittier aspects of a story involving bodies.

The central focus of this novel, which is the sequel to Lickel’s The Gold Standard, is an old family quilt that turns out to be so much more. Dating back to the days of slavery and the underground railroad, the quilt becomes the link from the past to the present.

Judy and Hart Wingate, now married and expecting their first child, become caught in the middle of both business intrigue and the ownership rights of property based on an old deed—an important document that has gone missing. After generations of an African-American family’s loss of their land ownership, will big business win against the rights of justice for all?

As is her usual style with characters, Lickel is engagingly creative with her descriptions and personalities, leaving a reader smiling frequently over the fun quirks of all her characters. A few are familiar returnees from her first book in this Buried Treasure Series, but there are a few additions to this cast in The Map Quilt that are equally charming.

The historical aspects included in this book are such a precious part of the plot. It reminds us how close our nation’s amazing history is to our present—and in The Map Quilt, it is as close as the characters’ backyard.

It was not that long ago that some white families reached out to help their black fellow Americans reach freedom. Some on both sides survived the dangerous endeavor, while others died in the effort. This is a book that will entertain as well as touch the heart and soul of America—freedom for all.

Well worth the read.

I give this book: 5 out of 5 Reflections

Book Synopsis

Death in rural Wisconsin is only the beginning to new chaos in Robertsville. What do a stolen piece of revolutionary agricultural equipment, a long-buried skeleton in the yard, and an old quilt with secrets have in common? Hart and Judy Wingate, who met in The Gold Standard, are back to solve the mystery of The Map Quilt. Hart’s new battery design could forever change the farm implement industry. But after the death of Hart’s most confrontational colleague in a fire that destroys Hart’s workshop, the battery is missing.

Throw in a guest speaker invited to Judy’s elementary classroom who insists she owns the land under Hart’s chief competitor’s corporate headquarters, and a police chief who’s making eyes at Hart’s widowed mother, it’s no wonder Hart is under a ton of pressure to make sure his adventurous pregnant wife stays safe while trying to preserve his company and his reputation.

About the Author:

Lisa Lickel is a Wisconsin writer who lives with her husband in a hundred and sixty-year-old house built by a Great Lakes ship captain. Surrounded by books and dragons, she writes inspiring fiction. Her novels include mystery and romance, all with a twist of grace. She has penned dozens of feature newspaper stories, short stories, magazine articles and radio theater. She is the editor in chief of Creative Wisconsin Magazine, a workshop leader, book reviewer, contest judge, and a freelance editor who loves to encourage new authors.

Where you can purchase The Map Quilt:

http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=376&category_id=8&manufacturer_id=196&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1&vmcchk=1&Itemid=1

Under His Wings

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

“There are babies!” My husband sounded almost as excited as if he was becoming a grandparent again.

I admit, I felt a bit thrilled that the goslings had finally hatched.

For weeks, the entire staff where my husband works had been watching the nest near their office building—and avoiding the protective and aggressive parents!

Knowing the hatching should be occurring soon, my husband and I stopped by the office building on the way home from church last Sunday. We were rewarded for the visit with high-pitched goslings peeps, the sound of cracking eggs, and a brief glimpse of a fuzzy-headed baby bird.

No sooner did we arrive, however, than Mrs. Goose did an amazing gesture. She slowly spread out her large wings and held them protectively over her brood. We could still see occasional moving bodies under her soft feathers, but they were all completely covered by her massive wings. She was not taking a chance in case we had harmful intentions against her babies—which of course, we did not.

Her maternal, protective response was inspiring.

I could not help but think of the verses throughout the Bible of God’s loving protection over His children, keeping us safe from attacks by the enemy. Our visit to the mother goose and her babies was a visible illustration from His Word on a rainy, cold Sunday afternoon. My husband and I will never forget its beauty.

“How priceless is your unfailing love! Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings.” (Psalm 36:7 NIV)

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.’ Surely He will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” (Psalm 91:1-4)

Jason Russell, American Patriot

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

When I was a child, I walked by the Jason Russell House on my way to school in Arlington, Massachusetts. Looking at the empty two-story dwelling, I somehow could feel its history—and its fear.

“There’s still blood on the floor in there,” my brother had told me.

Blood? I quivered at the thought.

I felt as vulnerable as Scout in “To Kill a Mockingbird” when her brother and Dill, the curious friend visiting from out of town, discussed Boo Radley, a mentally-challenged neighbor who they feared.

I viewed that dwelling in a whole new light when I learned that people had died there in the American Revolution.

And though my brother/sister conversation gave me the creeps, it also instilled in me a fascination for the war that birthed our nation. History had come alive for me while on my way to the classroom.

The story of my hometown of Arlington is often swallowed up in the historical accounts of the Revolution. The focus has always been on the “shot heard round the world” and the initial battles in Lexington and Concord on April 19, 1775.

One of the reasons that Arlington has not received as much acknowledgement on that first day of the war was that it went by a different name in 1775. It was known as Menotomy, from an Indian word for “swift running water.”

Situated between Boston and Concord, Menotomy Village was actually called “the bloodiest half mile of all the battle road.” More redcoats and patriots were killed or wounded there on April 19 than in all the other towns combined. This occurred when the British troops were marching back to Boston after the skirmishes at Lexington and Concord.

The Jason Russell House stands as a living memorial to those who died there that day.

Russell was a 59-year-old farmer, loyal to the cause of freedom. He owned a large farm—120 acres—right on Concord Road, the path upon which the British troops journeyed. Prior to the battles, Paul Revere and William Dawes both rode by Russell’s house on their way to warn the Minutemen.

When the Redcoats retreated from Lexington, word reached the villagers in Menotomy that the enemy was coming. Russell sent his wife and children to a neighbors’ house for safety.

It became a brutal battle.

A group of rebel Americans running from the British regulars sought refuge in Russell’s house where they could make a stand against the Redcoats. Russell, who had a lame foot, was the last to reach his doorway and was wounded by British bullets. He was bayoneted numerous times. Several other Americans were wounded.

Eight survivors ran into the cellar and shot and killed the first two regulars to come after them. The battle went on, to the Russell orchard and beyond.

In Victor Brooks’ The Boston Campaign April 1775 to March 1776, he describes the horrible scene:

“The ‘battle of Menotomy’ became the most brutal engagement of the day as house-to-house and room-to-room fighting resulted in Regulars and militiamen clubbing and bayoneting one another, pistols flashing, men swinging tomahawks and hunting knives and dozens of casualties on each side.”

Wow. No wonder my brother claimed there was still blood on the floor of the Jason Russell house. Even if it was not still visible, surely the floorboards echoed the carnage.

There still are several holes from musket balls visible in the house today.

Jason Russell was buried nearby his home, in the Old Burying Ground. His inscription reads:

“Jason Russell was barbarously murdered in his own house by Gage’s bloody troops on the 19th of April, 1775. Age 59. His body is quietly resting in this grave with eleven of our friends who in like manner with many others were cruelly slain on that fateful day. Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.”

In 1923, the Jason Russell house on the corner of Jason St. and Massachusetts Avenue was acquired by the Arlington Historical Society and restored. In 1974, it was added to the National Registry of Historic Places. Tours of the home are still given and a museum has been added.

I think I should go back there for a visit. I’ll be looking closely at the floorboards for any blood stains.

For more information on the battle and the Jason Russell House, visit:

http://www.arlingtonhistorical.org/battle.php

Sunday Book Review: Prize of My Heart by Lisa Norato

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

Captain Brogan Talvis, veteran of the War of 1812, returns home to search for his son. Before he had gone to war, his spiteful wife sent his child away, breaking the devoted father’s heart. Now that his wife has died during his absence at sea, all he can focus on is finding his son and becoming the parent that he longs to be.

Returning to the mainland, his search takes him to the family of Nathaniel Huntley, a wealthy ship builder, whose daughter Lorena has become the boy’s adopted mother. Brogan devises a plan to obtain a new ship from Huntley. At the same time, the war veteran plots to abduct his child that is his only living relation.

But Brogan has not taken into account the love the surrogate mother and the now five-year-old have for each other. Nor does the desperate captain realize the attraction that he would feel for Lorena. Could he consider the consequences of breaking her heart as well as his son’s, while satisfying his own desire to get his son back?

An unexpected turn of events forces him to reconsider his quest when Lorena is in danger and Mr. Huntley begs him for help. Brogan must decide if he will help the very man standing in the way of reuniting with his precious son.

Reading Prize of My Heart was an uplifting spiritual journey of a man tormented by his past. A victim of childhood abuse and of destitution, Talvis has risen to the rank of a successful captain of his own ship. But the nightmares of his youthful traumas continue to haunt him. They drive him to reclaim his only child that he fears could suffer his own painful upbringing if he leaves him in someone else’s hands.

Talvis is a man consumed with both fear and yet faithfulness to those that he loves. But in the end, it is his realization of God’s love for him that becomes his source of healing and fulfillment.

Author Lisa Norato’s research is impeccable and the romance sweet.

A satisfying read for lovers of historical romance with a strong thread of faith woven throughout.

I give Prize of My Heart: 4 Reflections

Author Bio

Lisa Norato first discovered a love of writing when assigned to write and illustrate a children’s book at the art college she attended. She also enjoys walks with her Yorkie-poo, the New England seacoast and changing seasons, good friends, Italian food, historical dramas, and British comedy. A lifelong New Englander, Lisa lives in a historic village with homes and churches dating as far back as the eighteenth century. Currently she works as a legal assistant in the corporate department of a Rhode Island law firm. Lisa is also a member of Colonial American Christian Writers.

Amazon.com: Prize of My Heart (9780764209420): Lisa Norato: Books

I Want Off This Plane!

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

“May I have your attention, Ladies and Gentleman? I guess this is one of those flights where everything is going wrong, but we now have a light showing up here in the cockpit. We are turning around and heading back to the airport.”

My heart sank as I put my book down. Nothing had seemed right about this flight from the get go. Since my triplet grandbabies were born, I have accrued many a frequent flyer mile—but I had never experienced a flight like this one.

* * *

At first I didn’t pay too much attention to the extra TSA agents hanging around the gate where our flight was due to depart. Normally you see these agents at Security checkpoint and that’s usually the extent of their presence. But several in uniform seemed to be hugging our gate and making their presence known, long before it was time to board.

I noticed on the screen in the terminal that our flight was going first to Minneapolis—our destination—then on to London. Over the PA system, the agent at the gate called several passengers to present their passports to her. It was noticeable that a few never brought theirs to her, even after repeated requests. A few names called were of middle-eastern origin.

As all the passengers waited to board, the clock was ticking. The employees made repeated announcements about the reasons for the delay but they didn’t make sense. Surely they would have known that the catering trucks needed to be unloaded long before now. Why this explanation? The more they offered reasons for delays in leaving, the more bogus they sounded.

Then came the next alarming announcement overhead: “All passengers must present their photo ID to the TSA agent before boarding.” Now, I have experienced this before. But the scanning of the crowds by the agents was a bit unnerving. I had noticed a few individuals that seemed to stand out in the crowd of passengers as a bit unsettling. But one always hopes that EVERYONE has been thoroughly screened prior to getting to THIS place in the process of flying.

So we all boarded after displaying our photo ID’s. My husband and I were not able to get seats together on this completely filled flight, so I went to my assigned seat alone and paused in surprise. Every single seatbelt was neatly buckled.

What? That never happens! Had they been searching the plane during that delay looking for something and then buckled every belt so other employees would know which seats had been checked? Now I was really starting to feel uncomfortable.

I settled in, determined not to worry.

I’m sure there’s an explanation…

Everyone else boarded and sat down. A male passenger suddenly came from the back of the plane, pushing against the flow of the crowd. He was carrying a backpack and rudely forcing his way forward. As he found his way to his seat in the front, I was alarmed as to why he had gone to the back of the plane first. I had noticed him earlier in the terminal, speaking loudly on his cell phone in a foreign language.

What was he doing in the back?

Another announcement overhead: “Maintenance will be coming through to check the lavatories.”

A gloved “maintenance person” came onboard. My husband, who was sitting several rows behind me, told me later that the maintenance person never made it back to the bathroom but turned around near the lavatory and then exited the plane. I’ve been personally searched before flights enough to know that they test gloves for explosives that linger on the nitrile material.

Is that what he was doing? He certainly didn’t use them in the bathroom.

After everyone was seated, the safety instructions were shown on the video monitors.

Then another announcement: “Ladies and gentleman, we have no water on this flight. The crew has had to flush the lines so we will not have water for flushing or hand- washing. We will provide wipes in the lavatory for your use.”

Great. This was a nearly three-hour flight.

I immersed myself in my book, wondering how long I could hold off using the facilities.

Silently praying my usual prayer at takeoff, everything seemed to be going relatively smoothly—until this latest announcement 30 minutes into the flight about the light in the cockpit: “We are returning to the airport.”

I felt an intense urge to pray. Setting my book aside, I closed my eyes and beseeched the Lord for protection for all of us onboard. I had no way of knowing what was going on…but I knew that the Lord did. I earnestly prayed that no matter what evil might be planned, that God would surrounded us with His angels of protection.

We landed safely. Thank God. But looking out the cabin windows, we noticed that we were escorted to the gate by fire trucks.

Oh my.

After the engines of the jet were shut down, I started to get up and gather my things. A few others began to as well.

I want off this plane.

“Please be seated everyone. Our maintenance people will come onboard to check out our door latch.”

We all gasped. The door latch? Were we in danger of the door coming off??

I looked at my fellow seatmates and said, “I am not staying on this plane.”

I sat down, determined to leave this jet, even if they said it was safe to fly.

It’s not safe enough in my opinion. Too much is wrong here.

Then the next announcement: “Ladies and gentlemen, we need to have everyone disembark and get the cabin re-pressurized.”

Repressurized! “Oh, so we needed oxygen? Is that why my head feels so strange?” I looked at the woman sitting in the seat in front of me. She met my eyes and nodded in agreement.

Get me off this plane.

We all exited while the agents in the terminal said that they would let us know when we could re-board.

Are you serious?

I looked at my husband and said, “I am not getting back on that plane.”

I called the airline number and set up new reservations for my husband and I. We would be flying all night but I didn’t care. I refused to get back on that jet. I could not get the image of the flight attendants’ faces out of my mind as I had disembarked. These normally calm and cool professionals looked as if they’d seen a ghost. That said it all.

They never did let the passengers back onboard, but got a new aircraft for that flight.

By now, several of us had re-booked. My husband and I had dinner at the nice seafood restaurant in the terminal, discussing all of the strange events that we had observed. It was a flight unlike any other that either of us had ever experienced.

But we were safe. And we praised God  that we were free from danger. I had felt surrounded by evil, but God is always greater than the forces of darkness.

And I knew that, no matter the outcome of those circumstances, that God would still be there, in the midst of fear. He is there, even in a world of terror.

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33b NIV)

Colonial American Motels

Posted by Elaine Marie Cooper

Some kinds of research can be just plain fun.

For instance, who knew that in place of a chain of motels in the 1700’s, travelers stayed in taverns? Of course, there were no restaurant chains; folks stopped in designated homes called “ordinaries” for quick sustenance while on the road. These accommodations were usually strewn across the countryside every few miles—at least in the more settled areas. If it was frontier, well, better get out the musket to shoot some dinner.

While taverns provided alcoholic beverages, they were also licensed by law to serve not just suitable beds for travelers, but also feed for their horses or oxen.

Food such as roast beef, leg of mutton, ham and cabbage, or perhaps a “fat fowl” were some of the dinners available to guests. Drinks were ale, wine and cider, but drunkenness was frowned upon and cause for a fine.

Most colonials never drank water as it was usually not clean and was known to cause illness. Boiling would have cured that problem but knowledge of bacteria and other microscopic troublemakers was unknown. Folks just knew the water made them sick.

Tavern keepers were usually citizens of good character with a good reputation in their community. Many were magistrates, politicians, or officers in the militia.

Colonial taverns were typically two story buildings with one large main room on the first floor and several smaller rooms for lodgers on the second. Besides offering hospitality to travelers however, these establishments were the main social center of a town. Business meetings were conducted here as well as militia meetings to muster men for the army just in case (let us suppose) they wanted to fight for freedom from England. Just supposing, of course.

One such tavern (still in existence as a historical landmark) is the Keeler Tavern in Ridgefield, Connecticut. Owned by a well-known patriot in the 1770’s named Timothy Keeler, there was suspicion that musket balls for the Continental Army were being manufactured in the tavern basement. In 1777, the British decided to assault the building by firing a few cannon balls, one of which put a large hole in the north wall. Another shot barely missed a patron ascending the tavern stairs. It frightened the poor man so much that it is said he screamed, “I’m a dead man, I’m a dead man!” until his friends convinced him otherwise. The landlord’s son, Jeremiah Keeler joined the Continental Army at age 17, and the story goes that the young sergeant was the first to scale the British redoubt at Yorktown in that decided victory against England.

Colonial American history is so fascinating!

What is truly fun about researching for fiction, is then translating these historical facts into a story. Here is an excerpt from The Promise of Deer Run that developed from the information I gleaned about traveling in the 1700’s:

The afternoon sleigh ride seemed endless. Mile after mile, forests of chestnuts, oaks, and maples lined the roadway. Occasionally an open field widened the landscape and a few deer in the meadows would scurry away at the sound of their sleigh. Dusk was nearing, and Nathaniel prodded Babe to drive a little faster. They had already traveled a total of thirty miles or more and were trying tor each a town called Brookfield before dark. At last Nathaniel caught sight of a two-story house with a sign in front.
“There! There’s the tavern, Sarah.”
The exhausted young woman peeked out from beneath the quilts.
“It could not have come any too soon.” Sarah sat up, her face twisting in pain. “I feel so stiff and sore.”
They both read the wooden sign out front:

Drink for the thirsty
Food for the hungry
Lodging for the weary
And good keeping for horses

Nathaniel grinned at Sarah.
“I’m certain Babe will be relieved at the ‘keeping for horses.’” He jumped out of the sleigh, the prospect of warmth and rest invigorating his limbs. “Let us get you inside first.” He carefully helped her out of the sleigh and hurried her inside out of the cold. A blast of warmth and pulsating light from the large hearth inside greeted the travelers.
The tavern keeper was pouring ale for a customer. When he looked up and saw the couple a look of concern swept across his face.
“Needin’ a midwife, are ye?”
“No sir…not yet. But we do need lodging for the night.”
“That I can provide. But birthin’? Not part of my hospitality, sir.”

Photo above: Keeler Tavern, Ridgefield, CT

In celebration of The Promise of Deer Run winning Best Romance at the 2012 Los Angeles Book Festival, I will be offering a free book giveaway to one of today’s commenters! Leave a comment with your E-mail address and I will enter you in a drawing!