This morning I chanced to wake pretty early and recollecting
what they told me, that unless I got up soon I should see nothing of their
market as it would be over — one of their markets stood opposite to where we
were, up I jumped and looked out of the window, but there was nobody in it, so
to bed I went and slept until eight, which happened to be the height of the
market, but I do not think there were as many people, buyers and sellers, as
there would have been around a person in our market that sold nine eggs a
groat! To our great mortification this morning it rained, but in the afternoon
it cleared up finely. Betsey and Anna Guest, Mr. Smith and I went out a
walking, we first went around, what they call "the Point" or
"Governor's Walk." It is really a sweet place, the walk is I imagine
near sixty feet wide, open towards the river, and on each side trees are
planted of different kinds, the major portion being buttonwood, the ground is
very level and the grass green. When you come to the Point, which is one-half
of the way round, you turn to the left and leave the river, and walk by the
side of a beautiful winding creek. The prospect from the Point is really fine,
you have a good view of Bristol on the other side of the river, likewise up and
down it; one arm of it just before you embraces a tract of land and makes an
island two miles long; there are one or two clever looking houses upon it — I
think they call it Sterling Island. After you walk some time up the creek, the
walk turns toward the Town, and at the turn there stand the Barracks and
Hospital. The Barracks are much better built than ours, the form being the same
but a vast deal smaller; the Hospital is but an ill-looking place. The walk now
leads into the upper part of the Main or Market Street. As we entre'd the Town
we stopt at a house to speak to somebody, we there saw a woman that was between
fifty and sixty years of age under inoculation. The court-house stands in the
middle of the street, but it is rather a distress't looking building. They have
a market at this end of the street which is larger than the other, but not so
much used. There are several good houses in this place. Prom Market street we
went out at the side of the Town to look at the Church which is a pretty neat
little building enough, with a kind of a steeple or bellfery to it. We now
turned down towards the River and walked along what they call the green bank near
which the Governor lives. We then went home and drank Tea, after which we
walked to see the Spa, which I fancy is about half a mile from the Town. The
place looked dreadfull, more like a tanpit than anything else; there was a
thick chocolate-coloured scum over it, but when you blow this on one side the
water is clear and I think tastes
inky; they told me it would iron mould linen if wet with it, I try'd it but it
had not that effect. We went into town another way, so I have now been over the
greatest part of the place, which I think might be termed an epitome of Town
and Country; every house has a large garden, and the trees are almost as thick
in the streets as the posts are in ours. It is really excessively pleasant and
pleased me much, but put me in mind of the building of Solomon's Temple, as we
scarce heard the sound of a hammer the whole time we were in the place.
However, I think a person of a social and contemplative turn, could not find a
spot where they could indulge both better than in Burlington.1
_______________
1 We can to-day recognize the truth of this
description of Burlington in colonial days, for it is true, as Henry Armitt
Brown has beautifully expressed it, that "the life of old Burlington has
been a modest one. She sings no epic-song of hard-fought fields and gallant
deeds of arms; she tells no tales of conquest, of well-won triumphs, of bloody
victories. Seated in smiling meadows, and guarded by the encircling pines, her
days have been full of quietness and all her paths of peace. The hand of Time
has touched her forehead lightly. The centuries have flown by so softly that
she has hardly heard the rustle of their wings. The stream of years has flowed
before her feet as smoothly as the broad bosom of her own great river by whose
banks she dwells."
SOURCE: “Extracts from the Journal of Miss Sarah Eve,” The
Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, Vol. 5, No. 1 (1881), pp.
33-5
No comments:
Post a Comment