, 1877-07-20
Boston.

The more l see Of Boston, the more re-
alize how widely it differs from New
York. 1t is never in hurry, to begin
with. Business men get earlier to their
offices, and taTy later, than in Gotham.
They go home to their dinner more fire.
quently. Then on the streets there are
seldom many signs of haste. Sidewalk
are narrow; women lOiter along the more
fashionable thoroughfares, and men make
their way leisurely onward as best thew
can, not seeming to care overmuch for
delay. The whole spirit of the place il
that of cultivated leisure, rather than
commercial greed. The fever of gain
RACES in subdued degree, if it may be
said to rage at all.
Laugh as the world may, and as the
great New York world does, at the in
timation, Boston is literary in a SUPER
lative sense. In no other city of its size
can you find 80 many famous men of let
ters, so many thriving publishers of
books, so rich provisions for the brains
of the people. Books are made here
lavishly; they are as laSishly placed in
reach of all who care to read them. The
great Free Library is but one expression
of Boston's cultured thought-eoually
magnificent and munifcent 1t is sun
plemented by numerous lecture halls.
which the masses frequent. Indeed, the
Lyceum has here peculiarly its home,
Boston believes in platform teaching.
and sends out a noble list of platform
teachers. Phillips and Garrison dwell
here, and have long been exponents of
the type of Boston thought. joseph
Cook, the new lion of radicalism who
has created such sensation through New
England, is more recent Boston voice.
speaking to community at large. In no.
other large American city Of my &C.
quaintance does the life of to-day seem
so intimately linked with the life of the
past as here. Landmarks of q buried
century abound. The Old North
Church, where hung the lantern on that
memorable night of Paul Revere's ride.
is one of these; the Old South, promi-
nent on the chief business street, is an
other, and much better known to the.
public; Faneuil Hall abides in good pre-
servation down by Haymarket Squares.
and the old State House does duty for
commercial interests not far from the
Old South. But even these, around
which and in which the life of to-day
throbs and pulses, are hardly 30 sugges--
tive to me as those old-time buriali
grounds, silent in the city's very heart
where sleep the half-forgotten genera
tons. You will pass two or three Of these.
within gunshot of the Common; in fact
there is one in the Common itself. They
are guarded by strong iron fences, and
kept in fair condition. All the head
stones look ancient; nearly all Of them
are of dark-colored slate or slabs similar.
II is my purpose to spend an hour or
two in each, some time, that may note .
down the quaint and curious epitaphs 1.
am sure may there be found.
The Common and the Botanical Car
dens-now blooming in springs fresh
ness, and redolent of bud and leaf-may
be said to divide Old Boston from the
New. Beyond these lovely breathing
places are the 'made lands" that stand
as a witness to BOston's enterprise and
good sense, whereon are splendid blocks,
grand hotels and costly churches. There
the streets are straight and fine; and
there the stranger may walk for hours if :
he will, up and down the avenues, and
never dream that twenty years ago this
space was overfowed from the sea. 4
The Common is rather noisy place.
Here the masses throng, of q sunny \
morning; here the children make merry;
here the sparrows chirp and the wrens
witter, and the fountains play. In every
tree, almost, are cunning little bird
houses-seems to me there must be
thousands of them-and they are popu-
lous. In the corner is the deer Park,
where pretty herd win general admira-
ton, and reach up their sleek heads to
be fed and petted by those who linger
near. suspect Boston has greater love
for its unpretentious Common than New
York has for its princely Park.-A.
Drift. IN American Rural Homo.