Shortly thereafter the court adjourned for the day. No doubt those who had been present retired to their taverns for a spot of brandy and laughed over Mr. Wickham’s merry argument about the maid of honor and the lord of the bedchamber who was made to marry the king in the indictment. No doubt there were some instances where the quick-witted had to repeat the argument and help the slow-witted to see the point of the joke. Of Richmond’s public establishments for food, refreshment, and shelter for the night none--including even The Eagle--surpassed the Swan Tavern. Standing on Broad Street that separated the Capitol Square and its public buildings from the stylish residential quarter of Shockoe Hill, identified by a sign bearing a white swan on a pale blue background, it was largely favored by the judges of the Court of Appeals and legislators of high rank. Its proprietor, Col. John Moss, was a man of great natural dignity enhanced by starched linen. The Colonel had the reputation for setting an excellent table over which he presided in person. His ham was always prime, his fresh meats the best the market could afford. If any criticism was heard it was only that Colonel Moss was “a nice calculator who aimed to give his guests just enough but no more.” But if his food was the best he ought not to be condemned for seeing that none of it was wasted. Also reflecting the Swan’s high standards were its wine cellar and its bar. The former was stocked, as the popular expression of the day defined quality, with “the best London Particular.” The bar was a favorite place of assemblage for the lawyers after a hard day in court. It was presided over by one Lovell, a droll fellow whose wit was as dry as his wines and spirits. It was perhaps not entirely accidental that the house which Colonel Burr was sharing with Luther Martin was situated close to the Swan and its bar. There, when he was not otherwise engaged, Mr. Martin was likely to be found. On retiring to the Martin house between sessions the Colonel often found Theodosia and little Aaron there. Theo was exercising a careful supervision over the housekeeping and the house was becoming a popular meeting place for Burr sympathizers. Many noticed and remarked that, in spite of his years, old Martin was beginning to exhibit a romantic attachment for Theodosia. To Blennerhassett, under lock and key at the penitentiary and alone, Burr wrote apologetically: “I am surrounded by visitors, which prevents me from adding more than the assurance of my respect and attachment.”