They styled themselves the Bohemian Brigade, and exhibited that
touch of the vagabond which Irving charitably attributes to all
poetic temperaments. They were quartered in a wretched little tavern
eminently First Class in its prices. It was very southern in style.
A broad balcony in front, over a cool brick pavement; no two rooms
upon the same level; no way of getting up stairs except by going out
of doors; long, low wings, shooting off in all directions; a gallery
in the rear, deeper than the house itself; heavy furniture, from the
last generation, with a single modern link in the shape of a piano in
the ladies' parlor; leisurely negro waiters, including little boys
and girls, standing behind guests at dinner, and waving long wands
over the table to disconcert the omnipresent flies; and corn bread,
hot biscuits, ham, and excellent coffee. The host and hostess were
slaveholders, who said "thar" and "whar," but held that Secessionists
were traitors, and that traitors ought to be hung.