June 15th.--The red light which the sunset at this season diffuse; there
being showery afternoons, but the sun setting bright amid clouds, and
diffusing its radiance over those that are scattered in masses all over
the sky. It gives a rich tinge to all objects, even to those of sombre
lines, yet without changing the lines. The complexions of people are
exceedingly enriched by it; they look warm, and kindled with a mild fire.
The whole scenery and personages acquire, methinks, a passionate
character. A love-scene should be laid on such an evening. The trees
and the grass have now the brightest possible green, there having been so
many showers alternating with such powerful sunshine. There are roses
and tulips and honeysuckles, with their sweet perfume; in short, the
splendor of a more gorgeous climate than ours might be brought into the
picture.
The situation of a man in the midst of a crowd, yet as completely in the
power of another, life and all, as if they two were in the deepest
solitude.
Tremont, Boston, June 16th.--Tremendously hot weather to-day. Went on
board the Cyane to see Bridge, the purser. Took boat from the end of
Long Wharf; with two boatmen who had just landed a man. Row round to the
starboard side of the sloop, where we pass up the steps, and are received
by Bridge, who introduces us to one of the lieutenants,--Hazard. Sailors
and midshipmen scattered about,--the middies having a foul anchor, that
is, an anchor with a cable twisted round it, embroidered on the collars
of their jackets. The officers generally wear blue jackets with lace on
the shoulders, white pantaloons, and cloth caps. Introduced into the
cabin,--a handsome room, finished with mahogany, comprehending the width
of the vessel; a sideboard with liquors, and above it a looking-glass;
behind the cabin, an inner room, in which is seated a lady, waiting for
the captain to come on board; on each side of this inner cabin, a large
and convenient state-room with bed,--the doors opening into the cabin.
This cabin is on a level with the quarter-deck, and is covered by the
poop-deck. Going down below stairs, you come to the ward-room, a pretty
large room, round which are the state-rooms of the lieutenants, the
purser, surgeon, etc. A stationary table. The ship's main-mast comes
down through the middle of the room, and Bridge's chair, at dinner, is
planted against it. Wine and brandy produced; and Bridge calls to the
Doctor to drink with him, who answers affirmatively from his state-room,
and shortly after opens the door and makes his appearance. Other
officers emerge from the side of the vessel, or disappear into it, in the
same way. Forward of the ward-room, adjoining it, and on the same level,
is the midshipmen's room, on the larboard side of the vessel, not
partitioned off, so as to be shut up. On a shelf a few books; one
midshipman politely invites us to walk in; another sits writing. Going
farther forward, on the same level we come to the crew's department, part
of which is occupied by the cooking-establishment, where all sorts of
cooking is going on for the officers and men.
Through the whole of this space, ward-room and all, there is barely room
to stand upright, without the hat on. The rules of the quarter-deck
(which extends aft from the main-mast) are, that the midshipmen shall not
presume to walk on the starboard side of it, nor the men to come upon it
at all, unless to speak to an officer. The poop-deck is still more
sacred,--the lieutenants being confined to the larboard side, and the
captain alone having a right to the starboard. A marine was pacing the
poop-deck, being the only guard that I saw stationed in the vessel,--the
more stringent regulations being relaxed while she is preparing for sea.
While standing on the quarter-deck, a great piping at the gangway, and
the second cutter comes alongside, bringing the consul and some other
gentleman to visit the vessel. After a while, we are rowed ashore with
them, in the same boat. Its crew are new hands, and therefore require
much instruction from the cockswain. We are seated under an awning. The
guns of the Cyane are medium thirty-two pounders; some of them have
percussion locks.
At the Tremont, I had Bridge to dine with me: iced champagne, claret
in glass pitchers. Nothing very remarkable among the guests. A
wine-merchant, French apparently, though he had arrived the day before
in a bark from Copenhagen: a somewhat corpulent gentleman, without so
good manners as an American would have in the same line of life, but
good-natured, sociable, and civil, complaining of the heat. He had rings
on his fingers of great weight of metal, and one of them had a seal for
letters; brooches at the bosom, three in a row, up and down; also a gold
watch-guard, with a seal appended. Talks of the comparative price of
living, of clothes, etc., here and in Europe. Tells of the prices of
wines by the cask and pipe. Champagne, he says, is drunk of better
quality here than where it grows.--A vendor of patent medicines, Doctor
Jaques, makes acquaintance with me, and shows me his recommendatory
letters in favor of himself and drugs, signed by a long list of people.
He prefers, he says, booksellers to druggists as his agents, and inquired
of me about them in this town. He seems to be an honest man enough, with
an intelligent face, and sensible in his talk, but not a gentleman,
wearing a somewhat shabby brown coat and mixed pantaloons, being
ill-shaven, and apparently not well acquainted with the customs of a
fashionable hotel. A simplicity about him that is likable, though, I
believe, he comes from Philadelphia.--Naval officers, strolling about
town, bargaining for swords and belts, and other military articles; with
the tailor, to have naval buttons put on their shore-going coats, and for
their pantaloons, suited to the climate of the Mediterranean. It is the
almost invariable habit of officers, when going ashore or staying on
shore, to divest themselves of all military or naval insignia, and appear
as private citizens. At the Tremont, young gentlemen with long
earlocks,--straw hats, light, or dark-mixed.--The theatre being closed,
the play-bills of many nights ago are posted up against its walls.
July 4th.--A very hot, bright, sunny day; town much thronged; booths on
the Common, selling gingerbread, sugar-plums, and confectionery, spruce
beer, lemonade. Spirits forbidden, but probably sold stealthily. On the
top of one of the booths a monkey, with a tail two or three feet long.
He is fastened by a cord, which, getting tangled with the flag over the
booth, he takes hold and tries to free it. He is the object of much
attention from the crowd, and played with by the boys, who toss up
gingerbread to him, while he nibbles and throws it down again. He
reciprocates notice, of some kind or other, with all who notice him.
There is a sort of gravity about him. A boy pulls his long tail, whereat
he gives a slight squeak, and for the future elevates it as much as
possible. Looking at the same booth by and by, I find that the poor
monkey has been obliged to betake himself to the top of one of the wooden
joists that stick up high above. There are boys, going about with
molasses candy, almost melted down in the sun. Shows: A mammoth rat; a
collection of pirates, murderers, and the like, in wax. Constables in
considerable number, parading about with their staves, sometimes
conversing with each other, producing an effect by their presence,
without having to interfere actively. One or two old salts, rather the
worse for liquor: in general the people are very temperate. At evening
the effect of things rather more picturesque; some of the booth-keepers
knocking down the temporary structures, and putting the materials in
wagons to carry away; other booths lighted up, and the lights gleaming
through rents in the sail-cloth tops. The customers are rather riotous,
calling loudly and whimsically for what they want; a young fellow and a
girl coming arm in arm; two girls approaching the booth, and getting into
conversation with the folks thereabout. Perchance a knock-down between
two half-sober fellows in the crowd: a knock-down without a heavy blow,
the receiver being scarcely able to keep his footing at any rate.
Shoutings and hallooings, laughter, oaths,--generally a good-natured
tumult; and the constables use no severity, but interfere, if at all, in
a friendly sort of way. I talk with one about the way in which the day
has passed, and he bears testimony to the orderliness of the crowd, but
suspects one booth of selling liquor, and relates one scuffle. There is
a talkative and witty seller of gingerbread holding forth to the people
from his cart, making himself quite a noted character by his readiness of
remark and humor, and disposing of all his wares. Late in the evening,
during the fire-works, people are consulting how they are to get hone,--
many having long miles to walk: a father, with wife and children, saying
it will be twelve o'clock before they reach home, the children being
already tired to death. The moon beautifully dark-bright, not giving so
white a light as sometimes. The girls all look beautiful and fairy-like
in it, not exactly distinct, nor yet dim. The different characters of
female countenances during the day,--mirthful and mischievous, slyly
humorous, stupid, looking genteel generally, but when they speak often
betraying plebeianism by the tones of their voices. Two girls are very
tired, one a pale, thin, languid-looking creature; the other plump, rosy,
rather overburdened with her own little body. Gingerbread figures, in
the shape of Jim Crow and other popularities.
In the old burial-ground, Charter Street, a slate gravestone, carved
round the borders, to the memory of "Colonel John Hathorne, Esq.," who
died in 1717. This was the witch-judge. The stone is sunk deep into the
earth, and leans forward, and the grass grows very long around it; and,
on account of the moss, it was rather difficult to make out the date.
Other Hathornes lie buried in a range with him on either side. In a
corner of the burial-ground, close under Dr. P-----'s garden fence, are
the most ancient stones remaining in the graveyard; moss-grown, deeply
sunken. One to "Dr. John Swinnerton, Physician," in 1688; another to his
wife. There, too, is the grave of Nathaniel Mather, the younger brother
of Cotton, and mentioned in the Magnalia as a hard student, and of great
promise. "An aged man at nineteen years," saith the gravestone. It
affected me deeply, when I had cleared away the grass from the
half-buried stone, and read the name. An apple-tree or two hang over
these old graves, and throw down the blighted fruit on Nathaniel Mather's
grave,--he blighted too. It gives strange ideas, to think how convenient
to Dr. P------'s family this burial-ground is,--the monuments standing
almost within arm's reach of the side windows of the parlor,--and there
being a little gate from the back yard through which we step forth upon
those old graves aforesaid. And the tomb of the P. family is right in
front, and close to the gate. It is now filled, the last being the
refugee Tory, Colonel P------ and his wife. M. P------ has trained
flowers over this tomb, on account of her friendly relations with Colonel
P------.
It is not, I think, the most ancient families that have tombs,--their
ancestry for two or three generations having been reposited in the earth
before such a luxury as a tomb was thought of. Men who founded families,
and grew rich, a century or so ago, were probably the first.
There is a tomb of the Lyndes, with a slab of slate affixed to the brick
masonry on one side, and carved with a coat of arms.
July 10th.--A fishing excursion, last Saturday afternoon, eight or ten
miles out in the harbor. A fine wind out, which died away towards
evening, and finally became quite calm. We cooked our fish on a rock
named "Satan," about forty feet long and twenty broad, irregular in its
shape, and of uneven surface, with pools of water here and there, left by
the tide,--dark brown rock, or whitish; there was the excrement of
sea-fowl scattered on it, and a few feathers. The water was deep around
the rock, and swelling up and downward, waving the sea-weed. We built
two fires, which, as the dusk deepened, cast a red gleam over the rock
and the waves, and made the sea, on the side away from the sunset, look
dismal; but by and by up came the moon, red as a house afire, and, as it
rose, it grew silvery bright, and threw a line of silver across the calm
sea. Beneath the moon and the horizon, the commencement of its track of
brightness, there was a cone of blackness, or of very black blue. It was
after nine before we finished our supper, which we ate by firelight and
moonshine, and then went aboard our decked boat again,--no safe
achievement in our ticklish little dory. To those remaining in the boat,
we had looked very picturesque around our fires, and on the rock above
them,--our statures being apparently increased to the size of the sons of
Anak. The tide, now coming up, gradually dashed over the fires we had
left, and so the rock again became a desert. The wind had now entirely
died away, leaving the sea smooth as glass, except a quiet swell, and we
could only float along, as the tide bore us, almost imperceptibly. It
was as beautiful a night as ever shone,--calm, warm, bright, the moon
being at full. On one side of us was Marblehead lighthouse, on the
other, Baker's Island; and both, by the influence of the moonlight, had a
silvery hue, unlike their ruddy beacon tinge in dark nights. They threw
long reflections across the sea, like the moon. There we floated slowly
with the tide till about midnight, and then, the tide turning, we
fastened our vessel to a pole, which marked a rock, so as to prevent
being carried back by the reflux. Some of the passengers turned in
below; some stretched themselves on deck; some walked about, smoking
cigars. I kept the deck all night. Once there was a little cat's-paw of
a breeze, whereupon we untied ourselves from the pole; but it almost
immediately died away, and we were compelled to make fast again. At
about two o'clock, up rose the morning star, a round, red, fiery ball,
very comparable to the moon at its rising, and, getting upward, it shone
marvellously bright, and threw its long reflection into the sea, like the
moon and the two lighthouses. It was Venus, and the brightest star I
ever beheld; it was in the northeast. The moon made but a very small
circuit in the sky, though it shone all night. The aurora borealis shot
upwards to the zenith, and between two and three o'clock the first streak
of dawn appeared, stretching far along the edge of the eastern horizon,--
a faint streak of light; then it gradually broadened and deepened, and
became a rich saffron tint, with violet above, and then an ethereal and
transparent blue. The saffron became intermixed with splendor, kindling
and kindling, Baker's Island lights being in the centre of the
brightness, so that they were extinguished by it, or at least grew
invisible. On the other side of the boat, the Marblehead lighthouse
still threw out its silvery gleam, and the moon shone brightly too; and
its light looked very singularly, mingling with the growing daylight. It
was not like the moonshine, brightening as the evening twilight deepens;
for now it threw its radiance over the landscape, the green and other
tints of which were displayed by the daylight, whereas at-evening all
those tints are obscured. It looked like a milder sunshine,--a dreamy
sunshine,--the sunshine of a world not quite so real and material as
this. All night we had heard the Marblehead clocks telling the hour.
Anon, up came the sun, without any bustle, but quietly, his antecedent
splendors having gilded the sea for some time before. It had been cold
towards morning, but now grew warm, and gradually burning hot in the sun.
A breeze sprang up, but our first use of it was to get aground on Coney
Island about five o'clock, where we lay till nine or thereabout, and then
floated slowly up to the wharf. The roar of distant surf, the rolling of
porpoises, the passing of shoals of fish, a steamboat smoking along at a
distance, were the scene on my watch. I fished during the night, and,
feeling something on the line, I drew up with great eagerness and vigor.
It was two of those broad-leaved sea-weeds, with stems like snakes, both
rooted on a stone,--all which came up together. Often these sea-weeds
root themselves on muscles. In the morning, our pilot killed a flounder
with the boat-hook, the poor fish thinking himself secure on the bottom.
Ladurlad, in the Curse of Kehama, on visiting a certain celestial region,
the fire in his heart and brain died away for a season, but was rekindled
again on returning to earth. So may it be with me in my projected three
months' seclusion from old associations.
Punishment of a miser,--to pay the drafts of his heir in his tomb.
July 13th.--A show of wax-figures, consisting almost wholly of murderers
and their victims,--Gibbs and Hansley, the pirates, and the Dutch girl
whom Gibbs murdered. Gibbs and Hansley were admirably done, as natural
as life; and many people who had known Gibbs would not, according to the
showman, be convinced that this wax-figure was not his skin stuffed. The
two pirates were represented with halters round their necks, just ready
to be turned off; and the sheriff stood behind them, with his watch,
waiting for the moment. The clothes, halter, and Gibbs's hair were
authentic. E. K. Avery and Cornell,--the former a figure in black,
leaning on the back of a chair, in the attitude of a clergyman about to
pray; an ugly devil, said to be a good likeness. Ellen Jewett and R. P.
Robinson, she dressed richly, in extreme fashion, and very pretty; he
awkward and stiff, it being difficult to stuff a figure to look like a
gentleman. The showman seemed very proud of Ellen Jewett, and spoke of
her somewhat as if this wax-figure were a real creation. Strong and Mrs.
Whipple, who together murdered the husband of the latter. Lastly the
Siamese twins. The showman is careful to call his exhibition the
"Statuary." He walks to and fro before the figures, talking of the
history of the persons, the moral lessons to be drawn therefrom, and
especially of the excellence of the wax-work. He has for sale printed
histories of the personages. He is a friendly, easy-mannered sort of a
half-genteel character, whose talk has been moulded by the persons who
most frequent such a show; an air of superiority of information, a moral
instructor, with a great deal of real knowledge of the world. He invites
his departing guests to call again and bring their friends, desiring to
know whether they are pleased; telling that he had a thousand people on
the 4th of July, and that they were all perfectly satisfied. He talks
with the female visitors, remarking on Ellen Jewett's person and dress to
them, he having "spared no expense in dressing her; and all the ladies
say that a dress never set better, and he thinks he never knew a
handsomer female." He goes to and fro, snuffing the candles, and now and
then holding one to the face of a favorite figure. Ever and anon,
hearing steps upon the staircase, he goes to admit a new visitor. The
visitors,--a half-bumpkin, half country-squire-like man, who has
something of a knowing air, and yet looks and listens with a good deal of
simplicity and faith, smiling between whiles; a mechanic of the town;
several decent-looking girls and women, who eye Ellen herself with more
interest than the other figures,--women having much curiosity about such
ladies; a gentlemanly sort of person, who looks somewhat ashamed of
himself for being there, and glances at me knowingly, as if to intimate
that he was conscious of being out of place; a boy or two, and myself,
who examine wax faces and faces of flesh with equal interest. A
political or other satire might be made by describing a show of
wax-figures of the prominent public men; and, by the remarks of the
showman and the spectators, their characters and public standing might be
expressed. And the incident of Judge Tyler as related by E---- might be
introduced.
A series of strange, mysterious, dreadful events to occur, wholly
destructive of a person's happiness. He to impute them to various
persons and causes, but ultimately finds that he is himself the sole
agent. Moral, that our welfare depends on ourselves.
The strange incident in the court of Charles IX. of France: he and five
other maskers being attired in coats of linen covered with pitch and
bestuck with flax to represent hairy savages. They entered the hall
dancing, the five being fastened together, and the king in front. By
accident the five were set on fire with a torch. Two were burned to
death on the spot, two afterwards died; one fled to the buttery, and
jumped into a vessel of water. It might be represented as the fate of a
squad of dissolute men.
A perception, for a moment, of one's eventual and moral self, as if it
were another person,--the observant faculty being separated, and looking
intently at the qualities of the character. There is a surprise when
this happens,--this getting out of one's self,--and then the observer
sees how queer a fellow he is.
July 27th.--Left home [Salem] on the 23d instant. To Boston by stage,
and took the afternoon cars for Worcester. A little boy returning from
the city, several miles, with a basket of empty custard-cups, the
contents of which he had probably sold at the depot. Stopped at the
Temperance House. An old gentleman, Mr. Phillips of Boston, got into
conversation with one, and inquired very freely as to my character,
tastes, habits, and circumstances,--a freedom sanctioned by his age, his
kindly and beneficent spirit, and the wisdom of his advice. It is
strange how little impertinence depends on what is actually said, but
rather on the manner and motives of saying it. "I want to do you good,"
said he with warmth, after becoming, apparently, moved by my
communications. "Well, sir," replied I, "I wish you could, for both our
sakes; for I have no doubt it will be a great satisfaction to you." He
asked the most direct questions of another young man; for instance, "Are
you married?" having before ascertained that point with regard to myself.
He told me by all means to act, in whatever way; observing that he
himself would have no objection to be a servant, if no other mode of
action presented itself.
The landlord of the tavern, a decent, active, grave, attentive personage,
giving me several cards of his house to distribute on my departure. A
judge, a stout, hearty country squire, looking elderly; a hale and rugged
man, in a black coat, and thin, light pantaloons.
Started for Northampton at half past nine in the morning. A respectable
sort of man and his son on their way to Niagara,--grocers, I believe, and
calculating how to perform the tour, subtracting as few days as possible
from the shop. Somewhat inexperienced travellers, and comparing
everything advantageously or otherwise with Boston customs; and
considering themselves a long way from home, while yet short of a hundred
miles from it. Two ladies, rather good-looking. I rode outside nearly
all day, and was very sociable with the driver and another outside
passenger. Towards night, took up an essence-vendor for a short
distance. He was returning home, after having been out on a tour two or
three weeks; and nearly exhausted his stock. He was not exclusively an
essence-pedler, having a large tin box, which had been filled with dry
goods, combs, jewelry, etc., now mostly sold out. His essences were of
anisc-seed, cloves, red-cedar, wormwood, together with opodeldoc, and an
oil for the hair. These matters are concocted at Ashfield, and the
pedlers are sent about with vast quantities. Cologne-water is among the
essences manufactured, though the bottles have foreign labels on them.
The pedler was good-natured and communicative, and spoke very frankly
about his trade, which he seemed to like better than farming, though his
experience of it is yet brief. He spoke of the trials of temper to which
pedlers are subjected, but said that it was necessary to be forbearing,
because the same road must be travelled again and again. The pedlers
find satisfaction for all contumelies in making good bargains out of
their customers. This man was a pedler in quite a small way, making but
a narrow circuit, and carrying no more than an open basket full of
essences; but some go out with wagon-loads. He himself contemplated a
trip westward, in which case he would send on quantities of his wares
ahead to different stations. He seemed to enjoy the intercourse and
seeing of the world. He pointed out a rough place in the road, where his
stock of essences had formerly been broken by a jolt of the stage. What
a waste of sweet smells on the desert air! The essence-labels stated the
efficacy of the stuffs for various complaints of children and grown
people. The driver was an acquaintance of the pedler, and so gave him
his drive for nothing, though the pedler pretended to wish to force some
silver into his hand; and afterwards he got down to water the horses,
while the driver was busied with other matters. This driver was a
little, dark ragamuffin, apparently of irascible temper, speaking with
great disapprobation of his way-bill not being timed accurately, but so
as to make it appear as if he were longer upon the road than he was. As
he spoke, the blood darkened in his cheek, and his eye looked ominous and
angry, as if he were enraged with the person to whom he was speaking; yet
he had not real grit, for he had never said a word of his grievances to
those concerned. "I mean to tell them of it by and by. I won't bear it
more than three or four times more," said he.
Left Northampton the next morning, between one and two o'clock. Three
other passengers, whose faces were not visible for some hours; so we went
on through unknown space, saying nothing, glancing forth sometimes to see
the gleam of the lanterns on wayside objects.
How very desolate looks a forest when seen in this way,--as if, should
you venture one step within its wild, tangled, many-stemmed, and
dark-shadowed verge, yon would inevitably be lost forever. Sometimes we
passed a house, or rumbled through a village, stopping perhaps to arouse
some drowsy postmaster, who appeared at the door in shirt and pantaloons,
yawning, received the mail, returned it again, and was yawning when last
seen. A few words exchanged among the passengers, as they roused
themselves from their half-slumbers, or dreamy, slumber-like abstraction.
Meantime dawn broke, our faces became partially visible, the morning air
grew colder, and finally cloudy day came on. We found ourselves driving
through quite a romantic country, with hills or mountains on all sides, a
stream on one side, bordered by a high, precipitous bank, up which would
have grown pines, only that, losing their footholds, many of them had
slipped downward. The road was not the safest in the world; for often
the carriage approached within two or three feet of a precipice; but the
driver, a merry fellow, lolled on his box, with his feet protruding
horizontally, and rattled on at the rate of ten miles an hour. Breakfast
between four and five,--newly caught trout, salmon, ham, boiled eggs, and
other niceties,--truly excellent. A bunch of pickerel, intended for a
tavern-keeper farther on, was carried by the stage-driver. The drivers
carry a "time-watch" enclosed in a small wooden case, with a lock, so
that it may be known in what time they perform their stages. They are
allowed so many hours and minutes to do their work, and their desire to
go as fast as possible, combined with that of keeping their horses in
good order, produces about a right medium.
One of the passengers was a young man who had been in Pennsylvania,
keeping a school,--a genteel enough young man, but not a gentleman. He
took neither supper nor breakfast, excusing himself from one as being
weary with riding all day, and from the other because it was so early.
He attacked me for a subscription for "building up a destitute church,"
of which he had taken an agency, and had collected two or three hundred
dollars, but wanted as many thousands. Betimes in the morning, on the
descent of a mountain, we arrived at a house where dwelt the married
sister of the young man, whom he was going to visit.
He alighted, saw his trunk taken off, and then, having perceived his
sister at the door, and turning to bid us farewell, there was a broad
smile, even a laugh of pleasure, which did him more credit with me than
anything else; for hitherto there had been a disagreeable scornful twist
upon his face, perhaps, however, merely superficial. I saw, as the stage
drove off, his comely sister approaching with a lighted-up face to greet
him, and one passenger on the front seat beheld them meet. "Is it an
affectionate greeting?" inquired I. "Yes," said he, "I should like to
share it"; whereby I concluded that there was a kiss exchanged.
The highest point of our journey was at Windsor, where we could see
leagues around over the mountain, a terribly hare, bleak spot, fit for
nothing but sheep, and without shelter of woods. We rattled downward
into a warmer region, beholding as we went the sun shining on portions of
the landscape, miles ahead of us, while we were yet in chillness and
gloom. It is probable that during a part of the stage the mists around
us looked like sky clouds to those in the lower regions. Think of
driving a stage-coach through the clouds! Seasonably in the forenoon we
arrived at Pittsfield.
Pittsfield is a large village, quite shut in by mountain walls, generally
extending like a rampart on all sides of it, but with insulated great
hills rising here and there in the outline. The area of the town is
level; its houses are handsome, mostly wooden and white; but some are of
brick, painted deep red, the bricks being not of a healthy, natural
color. There are handsome churches, Gothic and others, and a court-house
and an academy; the court-house having a marble front. There is a small
wall in the centre of the town, and in the centre of the Mall rises an
elm of the loftiest and straightest stem that ever I beheld, without a
branch or leaf upon it till it has soared seventy or perhaps a hundred
feet into the air. The top branches unfortunately have been shattered
somehow or other, so that it does not cast a broad shade; probably they
were broken by their own ponderous foliage. The central square of
Pittsfield presents all the bustle of a thriving village,--the farmers of
the vicinity in light wagons, sulkies, or on horseback; stages at the
door of the Berkshire Hotel, under the stoop of which sit or lounge the
guests, stage-people, and idlers, observing or assisting in the arrivals
and departures. Huge trunks and bandboxes unladed and laded. The
courtesy shown to ladies in aiding them to alight, in a shower, under
umbrellas. The dull looks of passengers, who have driven all night,
scarcely brightened by the excitement of arriving at a new place. The
stage agent demanding the names of those who are going on,--some to
Lebanon Springs, some to Albany. The toddy-stick is still busy at these
Berkshire public-houses. At dinner soup preliminary, in city style.
Guests: the court people; Briggs, member of Congress, attending a trial
here; horse-dealers, country squires, store-keepers in the village, etc.
My room, a narrow crib overlooking a back court-yard, where a young man
and a lad were drawing water for the maid-servants,--their jokes,
especially those of the lad, of whose wit the elder fellow, being a
blockhead himself, was in great admiration, and declared to another that
he knew as much as them both. Yet he was not very witty. Once in a
while the maid-servants would come to the door, and hear and respond to
their jokes, with a kind of restraint, yet both permitting and enjoying
them.
