im waiter
he was, apparently a genuine descendant of the old Puritans of this
English Boston, and quite as sour as those who peopled the daughter-city
in New England. Our parlor had the one recommendation of looking into the
market-place, and affording a sidelong glimpse of the tail spire and noble
old church.

In my first ramble about the town, chance led me to the river-side, at
that quarter where the port is situated. Here were long buildings of an
old-fashioned aspect, seemingly warehouses, with windows in the high,
steep roofs. The Custom-House found ample accommodation within an ordinary
dwelling-house. Two or three large schooners were moored along the river's
brink, which had here a stone margin; another large and handsome schooner
was evidently just finished, rigged and equipped for her first voyage; the
rudiments of another were on the stocks, in a ship-yard bordering on the
river. Still another, while I was looking on, came up the stream, and
lowered her main-sail, from a foreign voyage. An old man on the bank
hailed her and inquired about her cargo; but the Lincolnshire people have
such a queer way of talking English that I could not understand the reply.
Farther down the river, I saw a brig, approaching rapidly under sail. The
whole scene made an odd impression of bustle, and sluggishness, and decay,
and a remnant of wholesome life; and I could not but contrast it with the
mighty and populous activity of our own Boston, which was once the feeble
infant of this old English town;--the latter, perhaps, almost stationary
ever since that day, as if the birth of such an offspring had taken away
its own principle of growth. I thought of Long Wharf, and Faneuil Hall,
and Washington Street, and the Great Elm, and the State-House, and exulted
lustily,--but yet began to feel at home in this good old town, for its
very name's sake, as I never had before felt, in England.

The next morning we came out in the early sunshine, (the sun must have
been shining nearly four hours, however, for it was after eight o'clock,)
and strolled about the streets, like people who had a right to be there.
The market-place of Boston is an irregular square, into one end of which
the chancel of the church slightly projects. The gates of the church-yard
were open and free to all passengers, and the common footway of the
towns-people seems to lie to and fro across it. It is paved, according to
English custom, with flat tombstones; and there ar