Year: 1876

l never think of the geography of Bos-
ton without being reminded OF q village to
which | was once directed by planter
whom met by the roadside in the back
woods OF Georgia. go street on" he
said. "till you come to a shingled honse, q
blacksmith shop, and q tobacco barn,
standin' round a puddle of water; that's
the village" Boston, to be sure, is some
thing more than shingled house, q black
smith shop. and tobacco barn it is in
fact, town several times larger than the
Georgia village, but, for all that. it stands
right round a puddle-I beg pardon, q
pond-of water. This pool IS known in
history as the Frog Pond, and it probably
derives its name from o family of frogs
who once had there summer residence;
but why it retains its appellation it is diff
cult to conjecture, since all the Boston
croakers now spend their summers at New
port or Nahant, and their winters in much
drier, if not more wholesome quarters.


But pool of wit has already been shed
on this pool Of water, and it is not my in
tention 10 swell small pond into an
ocean. Adler pens than mine have tried
to do that. So shall content myself
with emptying my inkstand upon little
old woman who, in rain or shine, week in
and week out, for many year, kept an
apple-stand near the margin of that fa-r
nous puddle of water.


She was little. and she was old, and
do think about as ugly as any woman who
has lived since the birth of Eve-the first
OF apple women; but she loved and served
her country, and so, in spite of her ugli.
ness, | feel bound to give her "half dog
en- pages of general history"


AT first she served it by vending green
apples and striped sticks of stomach ache
to the hungry lawyers and ragged urchins
who congregate about Court Square and
at this time was mistress of = peripatetic
shop-a huge willow basket, going about
on two legs and open at the top, except
in rainy weather, when it was rooted in
by a big cotton umbrella.


She WAS meagre anatomy, with sharp
nose. a sunken chin, and hatchet face,
covered all over by shrivelled skin of the
precise complexion ofa peeled potato. In
winter she wore a faded hood, blanket
shawl and a woolen gown-short enough
to show a pair of corrugated stockings.
far whittier than the snow in the streets of
Boston. In summer she was clad in a
dimity cap. a calico frock, and cotton
bandana, pinned closely over her bosom
but, summer and winter, she was always
elongated by a pair of stout brogans, with
high heels and thick soles, thick enough,
one would say, to be impervious to all the
moisture that human feet are heir to.
But they were not impervious to the rheu-
the old woman's apple basket. and forced
knr to l,nt hn.. ,nrsr. fnt;<, oh
to open one of less rowing character.


Then she pitched her tent upon the Com
mon; or, more literally, she planted there
IA three-legged stool, the big umbrella,
and rough pine table, heaped high with
russets, pippins and gilly-howers which
she was ready to dispense to all corners.
at the rate of one cent for one, and half
dime for half a dozen-so several paper
placards, floating like flags of truce. from
as many golden pippins. told all and sim
gular who trequented the Common.
| Business here throve with the old wo-
man; for, in pleasant weather, the Com
mon is great resort for young couples,
who bill and coo under the spreading elms,
or on the iron clad benches; and billing
and cooling is decided sharpener OF the
appetite, as is proved by the lamentable
case of the young maiden who died of
love and green apples


There is no telling the quantity of
stomach-ache and cholera-morbus that the
old woman daily dispensed to hungry lov-
ers: but it must have been large, since it
was often noticed that, however high her
table was heaped in the morning, it was
always low down at night, when, with
her basket on her arm she ambled home
ward.


One evening gentleman passing that
way Just at dark found the table almost
untouched and the old woman in great
deal of trouble 1t had rained all day,
and few lovers had come upon the Com
mon: so, with apples and clothes weep
ing in sympathy with her sorrow, she
sat there, with no one to help her home
with her basket.


1t is said that evil loves the dark; but it
is quite as true that many good things
avoid the daylight. Others eyes are then
open, and the fear of what "men saw
often sends US sneaking by on the other
side, like the Priest and Levite in the par
able. But now it was dark so the gem
teman shouldered the apple basket and
went home with the woman She lived
in small room. on the top floor of an old
rickerty house at the North End; and as
he went up the stairs, the gentleman was
in mortal fear of tumbling down, and
spilling both him and the apples. At last,
however, he reached the room, setting
down the basket, sat himself down to rest
his tired legs and shoulder. 1t was mar
row, mean apartment, and SO low that
when he stood upright, his head almost
touched the ceiling. Two young children,
boy and girl, who were spreading the
table for the evening meal. and thin
emaciated woman, with sunken eyes and
pallid features, who was lying on bed in
the corner were its occupants. The floor
was bare. the furniture plain and poor,
and everything indicated that its tenants
lived on the very verge OF starvation;
but on all their faces was a cheerful look
that showed that they imbibed of that d.
vine elixir which gives to the most
wretched comfort and contentment. Gu
rious to get at the secret of their happiness,
the stranger asked the old woman about
her history.


Twenty years before, she said, her two
sons and her hushand had died leaving