ther to keep on
paddling, without warning her of my approach. I passed along, and heard
them come chattering behind.

* * * * *

_June 22._--I rode to Boston in the afternoon with Mr. Proctor. It was a
coolish day, with clouds and intermitting sunshine, and a pretty fresh
breeze. We stopped about an hour at the Maverick House, in the sprouting
branch of the city, at East Boston,--a stylish house, with doors painted
in imitation of oak; a large bar; bells ringing; the bar-keeper calls
out, when a bell rings, "Number --"; then a waiter replies, "Number --
answered"; and scampers up stairs. A ticket is given by the hostler, on
taking the horse and chaise, which is returned to the bar-keeper when
the chaise is wanted. The landlord was fashionably dressed, with the
whitest of linen, neatly plaited, and as courteous as a Lord
Chamberlain. Visitors from Boston thronging the house,--some standing at
the bar, watching the process of preparing tumblers of punch,--others
sitting at the windows of different parlors,--some with faces flushed,
puffing cigars. The bill of fare for the day was stuck up beside the
bar. Opposite this principal hotel there was another, called "The
Mechanics," which seemed to be equally thronged. I suspect that the
company were about on a par in each; for at the Maverick House, though
well dressed, they seemed to be merely Sunday gentlemen,--mostly young
fellows,--clerks in dry-goods stores being the aristocracy of them. One,
very fashionable in appearance, with a handsome cane, happened to stop
by me and lift up his foot, and I noticed that the sole of his boot
(which was exquisitely polished) was all worn out. I apprehend that some
such minor deficiencies might have been detected in the general
showiness of most of them. There were girls, too, but not pretty ones,
nor, on the whole, such good imitations of gentility as the young men.
There were as many people as are usually collected at a muster, or on
similar occasions, lounging about, without any apparent enjoyment; but
the observation of this may serve me to make a sketch of the mode of
spending the Sabbath by the majority of unmarried, young, middling-class
people, near a great town. Most of the people had smart canes and
bosom-pins.

Crossing the ferry into Boston, we went to the City Tavern, where the
bar-room presented a Sabbath scene of repose,--stage-folk lounging in
chairs, half asleep, smoking cigars, generall