Hence
Country Stages And Farmers' Wagons And Buggies, With The Whir And Din
That Belong To Them, Are Wanting.
This being the port of entry, all vessels have to stop here, and they
make a lively show about the wharves and in the bay.
The winds stir
the flags of every civilized nation, while the Indians in their long-beaked canoes glide about from ship to ship, satisfying their
curiosity or trading with the crews. Keen traders these Indians are,
and few indeed of the sailors or merchants from any country ever get
the better of them in bargains. Curious groups of people may often be
seen in the streets and stores, made up of English, French, Spanish,
Portuguese, Scandinavians, Germans, Greeks, Moors, Japanese, and
Chinese, of every rank and station and style of dress and behavior;
settlers from many a nook and bay and island up and down the coast;
hunters from the wilderness; tourists on their way home by the Sound
and the Columbia River or to Alaska or California.
The upper story of Port Townsend is charmingly located, wide bright
waters on one side, flowing evergreen woods on the other. The streets
are well laid out and well tended, and the houses, with their
luxuriant gardens about them, have an air of taste and refinement
seldom found in towns set on the edge of a wild forest. The people
seem to have come here to make true homes, attracted by the beauty and
fresh breezy healthfulness of the place as well as by business
advantages, trusting to natural growth and advancement instead of
restless "booming" methods.
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