is questionable whether any of these literary productions survive to
the present day; and I fear that not one of them had any spark of that
vitality, potent to influence popular sentiment, which Fletcher of
Saltoun attributed to the songs of the people.

In the centre of this market-place--a space inclosed on all sides by
various shops or stores, and for some unaccountable reason styled "Market
Square," since its irregular outline much more resembled a truncated
triangle--stood the town pump, on the spot originally occupied by the
meeting-house of the First Church, already mentioned. On two sides of the
pump were set the wonted hand-carts of two superannuated individuals,
whose gingerbread, candies, and apples were the delight of such urchins
as were lucky enough to have coppers to buy with; for those convenient
mediums of exchange were not too plentiful among boys in 18--, and
frequently not with their parents either. These old men were the
undisturbed possessors of the ground, wheeling their vehicles to the spot
at early morning, and standing by them all day, though they never seemed
to me to be driving a very thriving business.

But the glory of the Square was during the week before
Thanksgiving,--then, as now, appointed for a day late in November, when
it was often difficult to make one's way through the throng of teams,
and especially sleighs, loaded with poultry fattened for the occasion,
and sometimes venison and abundance of other commodities for domestic use.
The mention of sleighs leads me to recur to a former remark upon the
earlier approach of winter in those times; for the employment of sleighs
implies the presence of snow upon the ground; and the farmers had
frequently driven from a great distance, "up country," from parts of
New Hampshire and Vermont, even from the borders of Canada, perhaps a
hundred and fifty or two hundred miles and more away, to attend the market
in our town; sometimes as many as a hundred loaded country sleighs, or on
other occasions as many wagons, in a single day. The construction of the
Middlesex Canal, connecting the waters of the Merrimack with those of
the Charles, diverted the main part of this traffic to Boston; and
railways finally conveyed to the capital most of the remainder which
came from any considerable distance. Wistful eyes, in the presence of
these heaping dainties, were sometimes averted, no doubt, from a
consciousness of empty pockets; yet there were always gener