The New England Magazine, Volume 1, No. 1, January 1886 | Page 8

upon Boston's crowning glory, the gilded dome which,

like a great golden egg, is nested upright upon the roof which shelters
the annually-assembled wisdom of the Old Commonwealth. Around its
glowing swell the orbit of the sun's kiss is marked by an ever-moving
flame, and even its shadows are luminous.
As he looks across the Common he catches glimpses of the "New
Venice" which has been built upon the lagoons of the Back Bay, and
sees among its towers and spires one beautiful campanile which, by its
graceful inclination to the south, recalls Pisa's wonder, and lends a
special charm to the view.
Upon the little eminence near the Frog Pond, once the site of the fort
built during the British occupation to defend the city from the
American army encamped on the opposite shore, rises the monument
which commemorates the war of the Rebellion and the gallant men of
Boston who lost their lives in defence of the Government.
On that pleasant morning in 1817, neither the beautiful new city nor the
sad monument greeted the eye of the good Colonel, for the Common
formed the western boundary of the town, and the British earthworks
were still upon the little hill.
Could he have had a prophetic vision of the one, his honest pride in his
native town would have risen almost to ecstasy. Could he have known
of the other, his patriotic soul would have sunk within him, and the
pleasure of his day's journey would have given place to grief.
Rounding the Common, by the Hancock mansion, with its lilac bushes
and curiously wrought iron balcony, Walnut Street was soon reached,
and, near its junction with Mount Vernon Street, the house of Mr.
Webster.
The future "Defender of the Constitution" was no sluggard. It was his
habit to "Rise with the lark and greet the purpling east," to use one of
his favorite quotations, and the carriage had hardly stopped when he
appeared, and, exchanging kindly greetings with the Colonel, took his
place beside him.

Mr. Webster was at this time thirty-five years old, and had taken up his
residence in Boston to resume the practice of his profession, after
representing his native State of New Hampshire for two terms in
Congress.
Col. Perkins was among the first to recognize his abilities, and a strong
attachment had grown up between them. A marked element in the
Colonel's character was his constant desire to investigate for himself
remarkable developments in nature and art; and on this occasion, when
he expected an unusual gratification of his curiosity, no company could
be more congenial than that of his friend, the young advocate.
As the two companions made their way down the north side of Beacon
Hill towards Charlestown bridge, their conversation, cheerful and even
gay through the prospect of an interesting and pleasant excursion,
turned from private matters to topics of local interest, and thence to
national affairs.
Mr. Webster's experiences at Washington naturally took the lead, and
were listened to with attention by his companion. Mr. Monroe was at
this time taking an extended tour through the Northern States, having
occupied the presidential chair but a few months; the "era of good
feeling" had fairly commenced, partisan violence had for the time
abated, and the country was at peace with all the powers of the earth.
Soon our travellers pass Charlestown bridge, leaving Copp's Hill and
Christ Church, with its memories of Paul Revere, behind them, and
approach Bunker's Hill, where eight years later Mr. Webster was to
inaugurate the building of the monument with an eloquent address.
Next they cross the bridge to Chelsea, and, continuing their way
through the little village beyond, the long stretch of the Salem Turnpike
over the Lynn marshes opens to them, with the wooded heights of
Saugus on the north, the wide sands of Lynn beach on the south, and
few signs of life beside the skimming flight of wild fowl and the
occasional plunge of a seal at their approach.
And now the wide expanse of land and sea, and the cool breeze stealing

in from the water, turn their conversation to things maritime and
foreign, to the wonders of the deep, and to the danger of those who "go
down to the sea in ships," and brave its storms and hidden rocks.
The Colonel, from his youth fond of travel, had now many a story to
tell of his early voyages on business to Charleston, Saint Domingo,
Batavia, and Canton, and of his visits to Europe, one of which brought
him in contact with some of the stirring scenes of the French
Revolution in 1792.
Thus beguiling the time, they pass through the village of Lynn, with a
glance at High Rock on the one side and a longer look on the beautiful