Review And Telegraph

Correspondence of the New England Review

Boston; The People; Customs and Manners; Ladies; Business Habits; Church Going; Scenery Around; Cambridge; Colleges; Mount Auburn; Spurzheim's Tomb.

Boston! Boston! the far famed city of notions; the metropolis of the Bay State; the birth place of Franklin; the cradle of genius; the temple of literature and science. Such were the reflections that thrilled through me on my first visit to this city, as I saw in the distance on my approaching the rail road cars from Worcester, its giant spires and steeples glittering in the sun and flashing its rays around like meteor-light. And such I believe would be the reflections of almost any one who has not seen Boston, but who has read of its founders, its "tea-party," its devotion to the interests of civilization, refinement and religion as well as all the moral enterprises in operation. Such were mine at least. I have been here but a moon and yet how many lessons have I been taught by what is floating around me! I can't say I like the society of Boston, it is a cold and unsociable place, but the literati form a different class altogether from its common society, at least, they seem different in their feelings, and act differently towards strangers. They pay the greatest possible attention to a stranger; invite him abroad; show him all the lions of the city, and take him around with a seeming pleasure, which always adds to the interest whether real or feigned. But the general society of Boston does not furnish a soil suitable for the germs of friendship and sociability to expand and grow. It is too cold, selfish, would-be aristocratic and calculating. A southerner would freeze to death there with the formalities and ceremonial observances which he would be compelled to undergo. But Boston has some most beautiful females. I think, take the ladies of this city together in comparison with those of any other city of equal size in the United States, and they will far surpass them in point of fairness of complexion grace and elegance of motion, and general intelligence. They do not bestow that same degree of luxurious refinement upon their manner of dress, but it is made up in the symmetry and excellent proportions of their persons. But what a place for business! Business! business! business is the constant cry of all. Ask a man if he will ride to Nahant, and he tells you his business will prevent. Ask another to go to a pic-nic over in Cambridge, and he says, "I'll see if I have any bills due there." Ask a third if he will attend a concert, or go to the museum, theatre, or other place of amusement, and he makes the same reply as the first. But the Boston merchants are the safest men to do business with in the world; there's no mistake about that I have heard the character of your Hartford merchants extolled for promptness and integrity. and the success that has attended their clerks on entering houses in New York, but I must still say, give me a Boston merchant to drive business with safety and despatch. Boston is much famed for its church-going people as New Orleans is for its Sunday amusements. Church, church, church; ding-dong, ding-dong, goes the clack of voices and a hundred bells in simultaneous concert.— See what a throng presses to St. Paul's, what a dense mass is congregating round Christ's Church and how crowded is Pleasant street! At 12 o'clock. on Sunday Boston seems deserted, desolate. It brings to my memory the solitary appearance of Philadelphia at the time of the Yellow fever.— Not a voice to be heard; not the least stir or bustle of New York; no rattling of hacks, omnibuses, and carry-alls; no noise of steam and clouds of smoke from trains of cars whizzing and whirling through every part of the city. But for all that I like it. I like one peaceful day in a week when meditation can busy herself without interruption, and the tumult of the mind can subside into peace and quietude. I have visited Cambridge College, whose location is delightful, but the architectural superstructure of the buildings does not equal my expectations. The library is magnificent, and its chemical and philosophical apparatus is superior to any in the United States. The scenery all around the vicinity of Boston is glorious, and none better if equal to Mount Auburn. This is the most romantic and seemingly most sacred spot upon which I ever trod. It is a motley of hill and dale, woodland and stream, lake and fen, and among all are tombs and cenotaphs and monuments to the illustrious dead. Here repose the ashes of the great, the good, the wise, the virtuous, and the noble hearted. Perhaps of all the different tastes displayed here in the works of the sculptor, none is more rich than that given to the illustrious Spurzheim. His monument is of white marble of the Grecian mode, and is a beautiful specimen of neatness and elegance. There are a great many others here, however, which are surpassingly beautiful and will remain for many, very many, years, as monuments, not only to the dead, for whom they were designed, but also to the skill and design of the artist. Mount Auburn has two entrances; one on the S. and one on the N. side. That on the South side opens by a large and small gate, and is the main entrance; that on the North side is not used so much. The place has held me spirit-bound in its solemn loveliness until I have lost the power of my pen and thought. I must close. You may hear again, meantime I am yours truly.