University of Virginia Library

LETTER XV.

To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—In my last letter I
told you I was gwine to Yankeedoodledum. Well,
I've been to Boston and Lowell, and seed the live
Yankees, Bunkerhill monument and the factry galls, and
a heap of other natural curiosities that more'n paid me
for the trip.

Hooper, who you know is a Odd Feller as well as a very
clever one, wanted to go to the great celebration what
was to take place in a few days in Boston, and as I
wanted to see that part of the world before I went home,
we agreed to go together, and last Monday evenin we
tuck passage in the steamboat Narryganset for Boston.
We hadn't been gone long from the wharves when the
fust thing I know'd the ingine was stopped, the boat
commenced slewin round, and the peeple runnin in evry
direction. Bimeby the ingine give another lick or two
and then stopped agin. Thinks I ther's something out
of jint. Thinkin the biler was gwine to bust or the bote
was broke, I ax'd a old gentleman what was the matter?”

“We is rite at Hell-gate,” ses he.

“The devil we is!—as close as that!” sed a man
with mustashys on his mouth.

Hell-gate! thinks I, and I looked out, and shore enuff
the water was whirlin round and round, and runnin up
stream and crossways and evry other way. Jest then
thump went the old bote agin something, and evry woman
squalled, and the men stood on ther tip-toes. Thinks
I, if we is to go to the bottom, I'd a good deal rather
take a swim in some other place. Everybody said don't

be alarmed—and one man sed it didn't make much difference
to him, for he started to go to Boston, anyhow.
Bimeby the bell rung, the old ingine sot up a
terrible puffin and snortin, and in a few minits we was
leavin the gate of the infernal regions far behind us.
We passed Frog's Neck—whar they're bildin a young
Giberalter to keep the British from coming down to New
York when Mr. Polk drives 'em out of Oregon—before
sundown, and by dark we was in what they call the
Sound. After smokin a segar we went to our berths,
whar we was soon sound asleep.

It was 'bout daylight next mornin when we got to
Stunnington, in Connecticut, whar they say the peeple
live on fish so much that they smell like whale oil and
have scales on their backs. This may be a bug what
they put on me, but one thing I do know—and that is
that they is great whalers, for they whaled the British
out of ther harbor in the last war, a monstrous sight
quicker than they cum in. It was a bominable dark
foggy mornin, and I couldn't see much of Stunnington,
but what I did see made me think it wasn't badly named
—for it is rocks from one eend to tother, and it was long
after we was out of sight of the town fore we could see
any thing but rock-fences and rock-chimneys, and whole
corn-fields of rocks from the size of a goose-egg up to
that of a gin-house. We got a mere squint at Providence,
in Rodeisland, when we was crossin the river
in the steambote, and in about a ower more we was in
sight of Boston, which looked at a distance like it
was bilt on stilts in the middle of a everlastin big frog-pond.

When we got to the depo, the white hackmen cum
rearin and pitchin at us like evry one of 'em had a capias
ad satisfaction, as the lawyers say, for us, and to keep
from gittin tramped into the yeath by 'em, we jumped
into the fust hack what had the dore open, and told the
man to drive us to the Purl street Hotel. Well, bein as
it wasn't near dinner-time, we tuck a walk round to see

the city, but we soon found out that wouldn't do. If a
man could walk like Mr. Robert Acres wanted to fite
his duel, edgeways, he mought possibly manage to git
through a square or two of Boston 'thout gittin nocked
off the side-walk more'n a dozen times. But for a man
of my size to git along in sich little crooked alleys as
them Boston streets is, is out of the question. Col.
Bill Skimer would be like Mr. Gulliver was in the city
of the Lillypushins—the corporation would be bound
to accommodate him in the common to keep him from
blockin up the streets intirely. Why, they aint much
wider than the space between the rows of a pea-patch,
and then they are so twistified that it's as much as a
common sized body can do to keep both feet in the
same street at the same time. And then what makes it
worse, is the way the Boston peeple walks. They all
go dashin along like they was gwine to die, and hadn't
but a few hours left to settle ther bisness. As for givin
the walk to a lady, or half of it to a gentleman, they
don't think of no sich a thing, and if you don't want to
have your breth nocked out of you evry few steps, you
mought as well take the middle of the street at once,
whar, if you don't keep a monstrous sharp lookout, you
is certain to be run over by ther everlastin grate, long,
sheep-shear lookin carts. Hooper and me tried to keep
together on the side-walk. But it wasn't no use. After
bumpin along for 'bout half a square, I found myself in
the street and my frend half way into a store dore, whar
he was nocked by a feller what was stavin ahead with a
armfull of wooden clocks.

We made our way the best way we could in the direction
of the Monument, what stands over in Charlestown.
The Native Americans had a celebration on the hill, and
one of ther orators was makin a speech to a heap of
peeple what was crowdin all round the stand, jest like
our peeple in Georgia at a Fourth of July Barbycue.
As none of ther speeches couldn't make us no better
Americans than we is, we left the orator and his flights

of eloquence for the flight of steps what tuck us, after
puffin and blowin enuff to work a two-hos-power steam
ingine, up to the top of the great Yankee Monument,
what has been raised on this Sinai of American Freedom.
If ther is a man in the nation what don't like the
Union and don't feel willin to shed his blood to preserve
it, he ought to make a pilgrimage to this consecrated
spot. If, standin on this majestic pile and looking down
on the ground that received the fust red baptism of
Liberty, while he breathes the air that received the
expirin breth of so many martyred heroes, and looks
upon the sky that witnessed ther heroic valor, he does
not feel his bosom glow with patriotic emotion, and
imbibe a love of country above all sectional prejudices
or interests, then he may be sure he was born on the rong
side of the Atlantic.

From the top of the monument, which is about three
hundred feet high, we could see half over Massachusetts.
Among other things that was pinted out to us in the
guide book, was another monument, of which the Boston
peeple needn't be so very proud. The ruins of the
Ursuline Convent is still standin in sight, to reproach the
intolerant spirit of a peeple who have violated the laws
and disregarded the principles which ther fathers died
to establish in this country.

After cumin down from the monument, we tuck a
walk through the navy-yard and the rope-walk, whar
they was makin rope's long enuff and strong enuff to
pull the Stone Mountain, in De Kalb county, up by
the root, and then went back to our hotel.

On the way back, I tuck the opportunity, when we
was ridin in the hack, and nobody couldn't run over us,
to notice the stores and houses. Exceptin the narrow,
crooked streets, Boston looks a good deal like the other
Northern cities, though to my taste it aint to compare
in no respect to either Baltimore, Filladelfy or New
York. In sum parts of the city the streets is wide enuff
and very clean, and the houses is very fine, but ther's a

aristocratic air about it, a sort of starchy Sundy-go-to-meetin
kind of a look about this part of the city, that I
don't like a bit better than I do the pinched up, narrow
contrived appearance of the rest.

I noticed one thing about the signs in Boston, which
accounts for the curious way they pronounce ther words.
Ther letters is all littler in the middle than they is at the
eends—as for instance, a letter I looks like a lady that
was dyin of tite lacin. Now, you know the Yankees
ses kyew for cow, and gives a sort of loud-at-both-eends-and-low-in-the-middle
sound to all ther words. Well,
it's my opinion that it is the shape of the letters on ther
signs that makes 'em do it, or maybe the letters is made
by the painters to suit the pronunciation of the peeple.
In Filladelfy the most of the signs is painted in grate
big block letters, and in New York, in all sorts and
kinds. Well, the Filladelfy peeple talk very square
and plain, and in New York ther aint no peculiarity
about their pronunciation—no body can't tell a New
Yorker by his accent. So you see what the influence
of association is.

After dinner we was gwine to smoke our cigars, but
jest as I was biten off the eend of mine, I happened to
look up and see a notice what sed, “No smokin 'lowed
here.”

“Well,” ses Hooper, “I spose they consider this
room aft the machinery—less go forard.”

We went into another room, but the fust thing we
seed thar was, in grate big letters, “No smokin 'lowed
here.” With that we went to the door, thinkin we
mought smoke on the steps, but thar was the everlastin
“No smokin 'lowed here,” stickin up on both sides
of the door.

I looked at Hooper and laughed, but he didn't feel
like laughin.

“What kind of a place is this; I'd like to know,”
ses he. “I wonder if they allow peeple to sneeze when
they take cold?”

I proposed to git sum matches and go to the common.

“Agreed,” ses Hooper; “any whar whar we can
breathe 'thout violatin the rules.”

I ax'd the man in the office, what had been lookin at
my cigar all the time, like it was a rattle-snake, for a
match.

“I guess you'll find sum in the smokin-room,” ses
he.

“Smokin-room,” ses I, “whar's that?”

“This way, sir,” ses he, and he opened a door of a
little dirty room that smelled strong enuff of tobacker
smoke to nock a man down. Thar was no body in it
but a old codger, in a snuff-colored coat, what was
smokin one of the worst kind of American segars, and
readin “all sorts of paragraphs” in the Boston post.
The floor was covered with ashes and old stumps of
segars, the walls looked like the inside of a Georgia
smoke-house, and the air was strong enuff of smoke
to turn a man into well cured bacon in 'bout fifteen
minits.

“Majer,” ses Hooper, “I can't stand this place—
I've had jest as much of Boston as I want. Less go to
Lowell this afternoon. Maybe we can smoke a cigar
thar, and if you want to see any more of Boston, we can
stop when we cum back.”

I was jest about as sick of the city of everlastin anty's
as he was, and in less than no time we was on the railroad
to Lowell.

This is one of the finest roads in the world, leadin
through a country that seems like one continual village.
The land is poor and covered with rocks, but it's studded
all over with butiful country-residences, with churches
and mills and factories of one kind and another, til you
git to Lowell, which is the handsumest small town I was
ever in. We tuck rooms at the Merrymack House, one
of the best hotels, and, before tea, tuck a walk over the
place. It was a pleasant afternoon, and as we walked
along on the bank of the canal what carries the water

from the river to the factories, we couldn't help but
notice the clean and healthy appearance of the town.
The clear cool water went sweepin along, deep and
strong, in its rock-banks, over which the green grass
and flowers hung to dip themselves in the stream, while
a roarin sound, that cum from the direction of the great
blocks of five-story factories, reminded us that it was
no idle stream, runnin to waste its usefulness on the
desert shore, but that it gave its power to aid the industry
of man, and to contribute to the wealth of the
nation.

We tuck a stroll on the banks of the Merrymack, below
the town. From different pints we got a fine view
of the place, and found plenty to interest us til tea-time.
We was passin up Merrymack street to our hotel when
the bells rung, and the fust thing we know'd the whole
town was full of galls. They cum swarmin out of the
factories like bees out of a hive, and spreadin in every
direction, filled the streets so that nothin else was to be
seen but platoons of sun-bonnets, with long capes hangin
down over the shoulders of the factory galls. Thousands
upon thousands of 'em was passin along the streets,
all lookin as happy, and cheerful, and neat, and clean,
and butiful, as if they was boardin-school misses jest
from ther books. It was indeed a interestin sight, and
a gratifyin one to a person who has always thought
that the opparatives as they call 'em in the Northern
factories, was the most miserable kind of peeple in the
world.

It was a butiful moonlight night, and after tea we
walked out into the street agin. The stores was all lit
up and the galls was walkin about in pairs, and half
dozens, and dozens, shoppin from store to store, and
laughin and talkin about ther purchases, as if it didn't
hurt 'em to spend ther earnins no more'n other peeple.
Under ther curious lookin cracker-bonnets thar was sum
lovely faces and eyes, that looked better by moonlight
than any I have seed sense I left Georgia; and poor

Hooper, who you know is a bachellor, bein exposed to
sich a constant display of silf-like forms, rosy cheeks,
bright eyes, and silver-toned voices, begun to feel monstrous
weak about the heart long before the ower cum
for the galls to retire to ther boardin houses; and I was
monstrous fraid he would need settin up with the balance
of the night, his simptoms was so alarmin. By ten
o'clock not a cracker-bonnet was to be seen in the
streets, though the moonlight was as bright as day, and
the stars twinkled and danced in the Heavens above,
and a cool breeze played through the branches of the
trees and rippled the surface of the canal, while the
waters, escapin from ther confinement in many a millrace,
sent up a dreamy murmur, that blended harmoniously
with the scene, and made it one of the loveliest
evenins imaginable. It was a scene and a ower to inspire
love—when the world is turned into a Paradice
and wimmin into angels—and I couldn't help but feel
sorry for the six thousand little nimphs of the spindles,
who had no lovers thar to court 'em on sich a night.

It was late before we went to bed. As I'm to the
eend of my sheet, I'll stop here, and tell you about my
adventures in Lowell, the factories and the factory galls,
in my next. So no more at present from