Soon we were passing by the Putney Tavern, a venerable old inn catering to farmers and others traveling with goods to deliver. I always loved to watch the long wagons pulling in and out of the field adjacent to the building, and enjoyed imagining what distant places they came from and were going to. There were some smock-clad drivers cooking breakfast over campfires, and others lifting buckets of water for their horses from the well. I gave them a cheerful wave as I went by.
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