Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1879-10-17
Letter from Boston.
Mov1Nd-THE AUTUMN WEATHER. 'rBowI-
ING' IN THE NORTH END-A CLUSTER OF OLD
TIME MEMORIES

BosToN, Oct. 3, 1879.
have been in the clutches of the moving
fend. All you housekeepers know what that
is, and how inexorable is his hold Nothing
but instantly packing up your household
goods and putting them in some new place
will induce him to let you alone. 1t makes
no difference in what direction you migrate,
but go you must. / am Just liberated from
the thraldom, but I've not recovered my
wonted peace of mind. The mere sight of
furniture van makes me shudder, recalling
what have lately suffered. advise every
one who believes in my amiability to keep en-
tirely away from me until | recover from the
effects of the nerve-rasping, temper-ruiiing,
back-breaking heart-splitting experience,
through which 1 have just passed else will
the fond belief be shaken.
But these lovely, restful autumn days are
in themselves compensation for any amount
of vexation. So, since have "to q certain
extent can one ever say anything without
quoting from Pinafore ?-eyolved order out of
confusion, I'll take my ease and enjoy the
perfectness of the autumn days. As | write
the sunlight is sifted down through the fast
yellowing leaves of the elms; the branches
sway in the southerly wind, which is soft and
warm as summer. This is Just the sort of
day for 'prowling;' for going about in all
sorts of odd places for no reason except to go
somewhere. l believe / must have strain
of gypsey blood in my veins, for days like
these l always feel vagabondish. Existence
itself is n sufficient boon. One doesn't think
20, Il. Co.. II. l
ter doesn't suggest itself. 1t is on a day like
this that Boston is at her loveiest She
seems to respond to autumn as she does to
no other season, aud | know no other city
where this part of the year is as beautiful as
1t is here. East winds forget us for a little
while; the sun shines with n tempered
warmth; the very atmosphere is tender and
mellowed the pretty squares and parks, with
which the city abounds, are bright with au-
tumn blossoming suburban gardens are RIO
tous with color; the woodbine waves Grim
son flags from porches of pretty houses the
grass is yet green with all the vividncss of
summer, and showers of yellow and scarlet
leaves float softly to the ground
The glory of these days penetrates even
the darkest places, and from the tenement
houses, in the narrow streets, where poverty.
wretchodness and crime have their abodes,
the inmates come pouring out into the
warmth and glory of Gods free sunshine.
Haggard mothers, with sickly, crying babies,
whose little faces wear the pinched look
which hunger gives come up from the eel
lars which they call home to the light and
cheer of the outdoor world. like to stray
down to the North End on a day like this,
and loiter about the quaint old streets each
one full of stories of the past. For many
years, after Fashion had deserted this part of
the city, many of the old North End families
clung to their homes, and wandering down
Salem, Charter or Shenfo streets one would
come across substantial old mansion houses
with an unmistakable ''old family" air about
them, in the midst of ordinary dwellings,
pawnbroker's shops and tenement houses.
They We're occupied by old people, who had
seen their children go away to elegant new
homes on the Back Bay, but who could not
be induced to follow them. There was such
an air of generous hospitality in the very
windows Que felt what the "hominess" in
side must be. 1t is only within very few
months that the last of these homes was bro
ken up. Right under the shadow of the old
Christ church stands roomy old wooden
house with yard full of old-fashioned flow
ers, whose last inmate was carried out in the
early June days to her last resting place.
More than sixty years before, she had come
to the house bride, when Salem street was
an aristocratic portion of the town. The old
chimes lullaI har " c1oav, if,ht Nj
out peace and good will" to her in ushering
in over sixty Christmas festivals. lovely
family grew up about her, but eventually all
went away to homes of their own the hus-
band died and the children tried to make her
leave her North End home, but she would
not. II could not bear transplanting, she
would say, II could not live away from my
home and my bells" And so she stayed on,
the last representative of the old-time people,
that the old house will be allowed to stand,
for every inch of ground is valuable in that
crowded portion of the city.
But we can't 90 away without stopping at
Copp's Hill, one of the Oldest burial grounds
in the city, and studying out some of the
quaint, half-eflaced epitaphs on the moss
grown tombstones. Here are graves that
were filed in 1889. What different Boston
it was that that sleeper closed tired eyes upon
why Copps Hill was chosen for burial
ground. l can fancy what calm, peaceful
spot it must have been in those early days
when Boston was but a provincial town, Civ
ing no promise of the city into which it was
to grow. The sun smiled upon it at rising,
and left benediction upon it at setting The
blue waters of the inner harbor Tapped its
base, and sung lullaby to the sleepers. 1t was
raised above the turmoil of the little town,
and was place where one might sleep unds-
turbed. Something of the calm is left, al
though the waters are full of commerce,
wharves are built at the foot of the hill, and
one enters the grounds through the wrangle
and profanity and brutal poverty of the ex-
treme North End.
didn't mean to keep you here so long,
but never know when to leave the place is
so dear to me. l never get SO much into the
true spirit of Puritan Boston us l do when
come here. did want to take you into the
old Christ Church, whose chimes and chan
uellels anu communion plhte Cane rum LUG
land before the Revolution. The chande-
liors, by the way, were captured from
French vessel during the French and Indian
war with England, and were sent by the gov
ernment to ornament the new church in the
Massachusetts, colony, which had been built
in Boston. 1 wanted you to see the quaint
old frescoing in which very fat cherubims,
with widely distended, cheeks are blowing
trumpets and proclaiming "Peace on earth,