These
Matters Are Private, And Should Hardly Be Told Of In A Book; But In
Writing Of The States, I
Should not do justice to my own convictions
of the country if I did not say how pleasantly social intercourse
There will ripen into friendship, and how full of love that
friendship may become. I became enamored of Boston at last. Beacon
Street was very pleasant to me, and the view over Boston Common was
dear to my eyes. Even the State House, with its great yellow-
painted dome, became sightly, and the sunset over the western waters
that encompass the city beats all other sunsets that I have seen.
During my last week there the world of Boston was moving itself on
sleighs. There was not a wheel to be seen in the town. The
omnibuses and public carriages had been dismounted from their axles
and put themselves upon snow-runners, and the private world had
taken out its winter carriages, and wrapped itself up in buffalo
robes. Men now spoke of the coming thaw as of a misfortune which
must come, but which a kind Providence might perhaps postpone - as we
all, in short, speak of death. In the morning the snow would have
been hardened by the night's frost, and men would look happy and
contented. By an hour after noon the streets would be all wet and
the ground would be slushy, and men would look gloomy and speak of
speedy dissolution. There were those who would always prophesy that
the next day would see the snow converted into one dull, dingy
river.
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