Impressions of America | Page 2

catching all sorts of things
except a sight of the "sarpint."
The nights here are indeed delicious, calm and cool, with air as soft as
velvet; during the day, for about two hours after meridian, owing to the
absence of all shade without, one is compelled, although the sea-breeze
does its best, to keep the house, or else get outside the bay of Boston,
away from the land: this I was afforded frequent opportunities of doing,
in a very pretty schooner-yacht called the Sylph, which Mr. F----s had
down here. She was about eighty tons burthen, capitally appointed, and
with rare qualities as a sea-boat; in her I had the happiness to pass
many days, when the poor people on shore were pitiably grilled,
cruising for codfish, and dishing them up into a sort of soup called
chowder; this formed, in fact, the one great object of my present life,

and I availed myself of every occasion to pursue it.
One of my pleasantest cruises was made with Captain H----d, in an
armed schooner called the Hamilton, attached to the United States'
revenue service. We ran down the coast as far as Portsmouth, and on
our return passed a night within the snugly enclosed harbour of
Marblehead; into which a couple of our cruisers chased an American
frigate during the last war, and threatened to fetch her out again, but
thought better of it, after putting the natives to a great deal of
inconvenience through their anxiety to provide a suitable welcome for
the strangers.
Here we landed, and looked about the place: the air was somewhat
fishy, but, judging by the ruddy complexions of the people, must be
exceedingly salubrious. It is not unlike some of the French
fishing-towns on the coast of Normandy, and has an old look that
pleased me much. The place is said to have been originally settled by a
colony of fishers from Guernsey, whose descendants are found still to
retain many of the customs of the islands, and some words of the patois
in use there.
The population is famous for industry, and for the summary mode with
which they dispense justice amongst themselves on points of local
polity affecting the general weal. One instance was fresh enough in
memory to be talked of still. A townsman, returning from the Banks
with a cargo, passed a vessel in a sinking state, turning a blind eye to
their repeated anxious signals. Contrary to all expectation, the crippled
bark, after being given up as lost, reached the harbour, and the conduct
of the hard-hearted skipper was made public. He was seized instanter,
triced up, served out with a dozen or two well told, covered with tar,
clothed in feathers, and in this plight was carted about the boundaries
of the township, having a label hung about his neck that described his
crime and sentence in good set rhymes, which ran as follows:
"This here's old John Hort, That for his hard heart Is tar-ed and
feather-ed, And carry-ed in this cart."
This occurs to me as being the best practicable illustration of "poetical

justice" I ever heard of, and an example not likely to be lost upon a
maritime people.
It was about dusk when we landed; and I was at first greatly surprised
by the numbers of pretty and neatly-dressed women we encountered
strolling about, or chatting together in groups, wholly unattended by the
other sex. I was quickly reminded, however, that at this season of the
year the husbands, lovers, and sons of the community are mostly absent
in their vessels fishing on the banks of Newfoundland, and not
returnable under ten or twelve weeks.
I cannot help observing that it does infinite credit to the moderation of
these citoyennes that they forbear from taking the sovereign rule into
their own hands at these times, since assuredly they possess the power
of numbers to enforce submission, were the resident housekeepers
hardy enough to offer resistance.
Early on the morning of next day the Hamilton was once more under
weigh; we beat along the coast for some distance, then got before the
wind, and, after peeping into the harbours of Salem and Gloucester,
bore up for Nahant: when yet distant some five miles from our destined
port, the wind fell at once start-calm, without much promise of a breeze
till evening; a light gig, however, and four stout hands, soon set us on
shore within the shadow of the temple of Minerva, and concluded a
very pleasant cruise.
A steam-boat daily plies between this place and Boston: many persons
come down here for an hour or two, and return on the same evening; a
game of nine-pins and a dinner of fine fish, with advantages of fresh air
and a temperature comparatively cool, being the inducements.