"Three miles east of Lewisburg, on the banks of the Greenbrier River, is the large brick house now known as “Elmhurst farm”.  Located on part of the Anderson lands, the tavern was built in 1824 (making it 197 years old) by Henry B. Hunter, son-in-Law of Captain John Anderson, whose home, Anderson mansion, was within sight on the opposite side of the river. It was operated for years as a stage stop, being only a few yards from the toll bridge over which passed the east and west stage and wagon road. This bridge was erected in 1821, and the road improved and reconstructed shortly afterwards. The tavern, with its extensive acreage, was sold in 1848 at auction, together with a second tract land, including a gristmill, in the court proceeding of Allen T. Caperton, Executor of Henry Erskine Estate v. Henry B. Hunter heirs. It was bought by John A. North, who, in 1851, presented the tavern as a wedding present to his daughter, Isabelle (Mrs. James R. Caldwell). The Caldwell's took up their residence there about two years later.

The tavern had been a favorite stopping place in the earlier days. It was especially convenient as an attractive spot for the so-called “Picnic Parties” from the Old White, six miles away, though they were anything but rustic affairs. Dozens of people drove into the grounds in their fashionable equipages, and impressive names among those present were the rule rather than the exception. Furbelows and frills, delicacies and champagne, topped off with a band to add to the general festivity, made them extremely gala occasions.

The early writer, Mark Pencil, describes such a party held on “very dust day” August 25, 1837 in which Mr. Van Buren, President of the United States, and his secretary of war were honored guests. Since Mr. Van Buren was a widower, this was strictly a masculine affair, much to the chagrin of the languishing belles at the White. They were truly bereft, for the hundred men who attended the party must have been the most desirable of the beaux.

Served under “a myrtle leaved canopy overhead,” the quests sat down to a lavish assortment of the finest foods obtainable and the choicest of southern dishes, accompanied by the music of popping corks, all of which must have been most sustainable- as the party lasted from two until seven o’clock.

The tavern, now a few feet lower than present highway, was originally on the same level as the turnpike. It was well placed to appeal to the weary traveler, who, pausing to pay toll at the picturesque and dusty old covered bridge, (Replaced in 1932 by a bridge of steel and concrete.) could not fail to observe the charm of the tree-shaded inn by the river. Mr. Hunter also offered other inducements by operating a large wagon and blacksmith shop nearby, as well as a gristmill. He had even obtained exemptions from the 6 and quarter bridge toll not only for himself and his family but for his customers as well. All this made the Hunter accommodations irresistible, and a failure to stop seemed almost unsocial.

 The wooden floors of the old bridge resounded to the tramp of both Northern and Southern armies in the Civil War. Following the Battle of Lewisburg (1862), the retreating Confederates under General Heth burned the bridge, (A ferry was later established by Mr. Hunter, and a son, Henry F. Hunter, lost his life by drowning at this spot. The river was in flood, and in an attempt to secure the ferry more firmly to the bank, the cable broke, and the son was stuck and thrown into the swirling water) to retard the enemy, perhaps not knowing that Anderson’s Ford, the early Indian Train Crossing, was nearby. Indentations of breastworks thrown up by the Confederates my still be seen in the fields near the house. As well as the site where the artillery was mounted on steep Goat Hill across the road from the tavern. In the fighting, several shells struck the building, and one corner was badly damaged, broken bricks in the kitchen walls still show the marks of glancing shots.

So favorable located for peacetime travel, the tavern, then the home of the Caldwell family, proved most dangerously situated in time of war. It remained occupied, however, because of a series of illnesses. In 1861 the Caldwell had suffered the crushing loss of three of their young daughters from diphtheria, and again in 1864 were concerned because of the serious illness of their mother, Mrs. James Caldwell. Owing to her condition the family had been unable to flee to safety when the news of Hunter’s approach in his retreated from Lynchburg, and all they could do was to conceal their most valued possessions as best they might. The silverware was buried under the floor of a poultry house, which still stands.

Hunter's men, separated from their food supplies, were foraging off of the country, leaving destruction and hardship in their wake. When the Federal troops arrived, their intention was to burn the house and other buildings. The officer in charge was told of the illness of Mrs. Caldwell, but, thinking it only a feigned excuse he ordered his surgeon to examine her. Finding her condition as critical as it had been reported, the physician stated it would undoubtedly kill her to be moved. So Elmhurst escaped the torched. A short distance away, however on Howard's Creek, the Caldwell gristmill, built in 1853, did not fare so well; it and the barn were burned to the ground. (A second mill, erected in 1872, was sold 25 years later to a Mr. Mason.) The house, with its long, deep-set windows and very thick walls, is enormous, with at least twenty rooms and six chimneys. A large double porch, the first floor of the is barely above one step above ground, is supported by four tall, square, wood columns extending to the roof. A step-down wood trim decorates the front of the roof. A particularly lovely doorway of reeded pilasters, with unusual circular glass side panels and glass over door design, opens into a very broad central hall, which extends the depth of the building. At the end of the hall, a wide stairway leads to the second color. Great square rooms, one measuring 22 feet, opening into this and a similar hall above. Hanging between the front windows in the first room to the left of the entrance is a long, narrow mirror which once graced the parlor at the Old White. In this and other rooms there are also a number of fine pieces of antique furniture which belonged to earlier members of the North and the Caldwell families- a sideboard, a secretary, a beautiful  circular pedestal table, and other heirlooms. On the stair landing is the grandfather clock one owned by John A. North. The house contains several fine hand carved mantels some with reeded half-columns and sunburst medallions. In later years all the woodwork has been painted ivory, and none of the original color is now in evidence.

The room is used now as a kitchen was originally the dining-room. It still has its low wainscoting around the walls and its carved mantel. Behind the cooking stove! Beyond this room, on a lower level is the original kitchen with two rooms above it. Has a great arched fireplace, with Dutch ovens on each side, a real Williamsburg kitchen. A partition divides in from a quaint stairway to the rooms above.

At one time this property was sold to Ashford M. Caldwell, who was unrelated to the family. This Mr. Caldwell appears to have done a number of grievous things to the hours, including the removal of all the fine box locks from the large 42 inch doors and their replacement with, "New” china door knobs. One wonders if the old locks may yet be buried in the mud of the convenient near-by river bed. Another of his sins was the removal of all the small-paned window glass and the substitution of pans separated by one vertical division. Luckily, the former owners repented of the sale, and in a few years John North Caldwell bought back the house and about 40 acres of the original holdings.

In one of the lower rooms is a pair of amusing wrought-iron and irons, figures a little nigro boys with caps on their heads. They were purchased by me. John A North while in the city on one occasion. He wrote Mrs. North what he was bringing her a present of a “Pair of little black boys” assuming, of course, that he meant to slaves, she at once set about arranging quarters and making other preparations for their arrival. Imagine her surprise when they turned out to be about twelve inches high and of solid iron!

Recently, in the removal of several layers of old wall paper in one of the rooms, a number of names were discovered written on the plaster. No record was kept of them, but the dates of 1831 and 1833 and the name Montgomery from Augusta” are remembered. This interesting building, with its wonderful spreading elm tree, which measures more than 20 feet in circumference and for which the place was named “Elmhurst”. Some of the latter’s children now own and occupy the house. In later years, is yet in the possession of the descendants of John A. North, who grandson J. North Caldwell, died in and the traveler may still secure lodging and good Southern cooking its roof."

"Wanted: A charming ghost to haunt bed and breakfast Inn near Lewisburg. There’s no sign in the window, but the owners say it would be nice to have a ghost on the premises. “I’d love to have a ghost here.” Says Joan Jeter who opened the Greenbrier River Inn last summer at Caldwell. “Everyone asks, but the truth is, there’s no ghost here we know of nevertheless, the atmosphere surrounding this pioneer structure would make a perfect setting for any kind of mystery story, especially a frontier mystery with a focus on West Virginia early history. A giant elm tree spreads it’s graceful branches over the house, which has become one of the State’s newest and oldest inns, offering bed and breakfast an historic southern mansion not far from the farmed health spa at White Sulphur. “It’s quite an adventure for us.” Says Joan, 55, a New York native. “It’s taken a lot of hard work, but it’s been worth it.” Joan and her husband Jim bought the house last July. “We wear a lot of hats.” Joan says with a grin. “Jim is a Charleston attorney. I am a nurse. We’re both sheep farmers at Organ Cave. Now we’re innkeepers, too. It’s marvelous.” Built in 1824, the inn was visited by President Martin Van Buren, Robert E. Lee and other notable during the 19th century. The old structure took a shelling from cannons during the Civil War, when the house was caught in the crossfire between the Union and Confederate forces following the battle of Lewisburg . It is on the National Register of Historic Places. “The building was nearly burned by union soldiers, but there was a women inside who was too sick to be moved out,” Joan explains. “The Union commander had the women examined by his own physician and then gave up on the idea of burning it.” But the building’s history goes back further then the civil war. The Lobby of the Inn is called the Vann Buren Room after the U.S. president who was honored there 140 years ago. Last summer the Jeters worked at restoring the old structure. They removed the false ceilings, painted some of the wood work, put down new wooden floors, uncovered and reopened old fireplaces and refurbished the building with dozens of fine fixtures. All seven bedrooms have a private bath and cable television. But that’s only the beginning. The inn offers fishing and a launch for small boats in the Greenbrier River. It features a tennis court and a river nature walk. “The inn has for fireplaces open.” Joan explains “We’re going to open more later. We’re expecting busy activity this spring. We are making this place available for cocktail parties. We’re having them catered. “We’ve weekend couples who flew in and rented the entire place.” Joan is proud of her furnishings: Oriental rugs, antique beds, old paintings, crystal chandeliers, wooden staircases, tintype photographs, crocks and more. She says the Greenbrier Inn is the only bed-and-breakfast inn for hundreds of miles in any direction. Built in 1824 by Henry B. Hunter to serve as a stagecoach stop, the building has been restored to its original purpose, according to the new owner. But there’s one thing that’s still missing from the old manse. “If I could scare up a ghost, I certainly would,” Joan jokes at the inn. “I’d love to have a ghost here, a charming old spirit that looked over children, but I’m afraid we don’t."