This Has Been No Easy Task In Cities Built Of Wood,
Which In That Dry Climate, When Ignited, Burns Like Pine-Knots.
Even now,
fires occur in a very unaccountable manner.
At New York my slumbers were,
frequently disturbed by the quick-tolling bell, announcing the number of
the district where a fire had broken out. These fire companies have
regular organizations, and their members enjoy several immunities, one of
which I think is, that they are not compelled to serve as jurymen.
They are principally composed of young men, some of them the wilder
members of the first families in the cities.
Their dresses are suitable and picturesque, and, with the brilliant
painting and highly-polished brasses of their large engines, they form one
of the most imposing parts of the annual pageant of the "Glorious
Fourth." The fireman who first reaches the scene of action is captain for
the night, and this honour is so much coveted, as to lead them often to
wait, ready equipped, during the winter nights, that they may be able to
start forth at the first sound of the bell. There is sufficient dangerous
adventure, and enough of thrilling incident, to give the occupation a
charm in the eyes of the eager youth of the cities. They like it far
better than playing at soldiers, and are popular in every city. As their
gay and glittering processions pass along the streets, acclamations greet
their progress, and enthusiastic ladies shower flowers upon their heads.
They are generous, courageous, and ever ready in the hour of danger. But
there is a dark side to this picture. They are said to be the foci of
political encroachment and intrigue, and to be the centre of the restless
and turbulent spirits of all classes. So powerful and dangerous have they
become in many instances, that it has been recently stated in an American
paper, that one of the largest and most respectable cities in the Union
has found it necessary to suppress them.
The Blind Asylum is one of the noblest charitable institutions of Boston.
It is in a magnificent situation, overlooking all the beauties of
Massachusett's Bay. It is principally interesting as being the residence
of Laura Bridgman, the deaf and blind mute, whose history has interested
so many in England. I had not an opportunity of visiting this asylum till
the morning of the day on which I sailed for Europe, and had no
opportunity of conversing with this interesting girl, as she was just
leaving for the country. I saw her preceptor, Dr. Howe, whose untiring
exertions on her behalf she has so wonderfully rewarded. He is a very
lively, energetic man, and is now devoting himself to the improvement of
the condition of idiots, in which already he has been extremely
successful.
Laura is an elegant-looking girl, and her features, formerly so vacant,
are now animated and full of varying expression. She dresses herself with
great care and neatness, and her fair hair is also braided by herself.
There is nothing but what is pleasing in her appearance, as her eyes are
covered with small green shades. She is about twenty-three, and is not so
cheerful as she formerly was, perhaps because her health is not good, or
possibly that she feels more keenly the deprivations under which she
labours. She is very active in her movements, and fabricates numerous
useful and ornamental articles, which she disposes of for her mother's
benefit. She is very useful among the other pupils, and is well informed
with regard to various branches of useful knowledge. She is completely
matter-of-fact in all her ideas, as Dr. Howe studiously avoids all imagery
and illustration in his instructions, in order not to embarrass her mind
by complex images. It is to be regretted that she has very few ideas on
the subject of religion.
One of the most interesting places to me in the vicinity of Boston was the
abode of General Washington. It became his residence in 1775, and here he
lived while the struggle for freedom was going on in the neighbourhood.
It is one of the largest villas in the vicinity of Boston, and has side
verandahs resting on wooden pillars, and a large garden in front. Some
very venerable elms adjoin the house, and the grounds are laid out in the
fashion which prevailed at that period. The room where Washington penned
his famous despatches is still held sacred by the Americans. Their
veneration for this renowned champion of independence has something almost
idolatrous about it. It is very fortunate that the greatest character in
American history should be also the best. Christian, patriot, legislator,
and soldier, he deserved his mother's proud boast, "I know that wherever
George Washington is, he is doing his duty." His character needed no lapse
of years to shed a glory round it; the envy of contemporary writers left
it stainless, and succeeding historians, with their pens dipped in gall,
have not been able to sully the lustre of a name which is one of the
greatest which that or any age has produced.
This mansion has, however, an added interest, from being the residence of
the poet Longfellow. In addition to his celebrity as a poet, he is one of
the most elegant scholars which America has produced, and, until recently,
held the professorship of modern languages at the neighbouring university
of Cambridge. It would be out of place here to criticise his poetry.
Although it is very unequal and occasionally fantastic, and though in one
of his greatest poems the English language appears to dance in chains in
the hexameter, many of his shorter pieces well upwards from the heart, in
a manner which is likely to ensure durable fame for their author. The
truth, energy, and earnestness of his 'Psalm of Life' and 'Goblet of
Life,' have urged many forward in the fight, to whom the ponderous
sublimity of Milton is a dead language, and the metaphysical lyrics of
Tennyson are unintelligible.
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