第8部分(第4/7 頁)

atmosphere　which　a　literary　man　requires；　in　orderto　ripen　the　best　harvest　of　his　mind。　I　shall　do　better　amongst　otherfaces；　and　these　familiar　ones；　it　need　hardly　be　said；　will　do　justas　well　without　me。 It　may　be；　however…　oh；　transporting　and　triumphant　thought！…　thatthe　great…grandchildren　of　the　present　race　may　sometimes　think　kindlyof　the　scribbler　of　bygone　days；　e；among　the　sites　memorable　in　the　town's　history；　shall　point　out　thelocality　of　THE　TOWN　PUMP！

I。　THE　PRISON…DOOR。 A　THRONG　of　bearded　men；　in　sad…coloured　garments；　and　grey；steeple…crowned　hats；　intermixed　with　women；　some　wearing　hoods；　andothers　bareheaded；　was　assembled　in　front　of　a　wooden　edifice；　thedoor　of　which　was　heavily　timbered　with　oak；　and　studded　with　ironspikes。 The　founders　of　a　new　colony；　whatever　Utopia　of　human　virtue　andhappiness　they　might　originally　project；　have　invariably　recognised　itamong　their　earliest　practical　necessities　to　allot　a　portion　of　thevirgin　soil　as　a　cemetery；　and　another　portion　as　the　site　of　aprison。　In　accordance　with　this　rule；　it　may　safely　be　assumed　thatthe　forefathers　of　Boston　had　built　the　first　prison…house　somewherein　the　vicinity　of　Cornhill；　almost　as　seasonably　as　they　marked　outthe　first　burial…ground；　on　Isaac　Johnson's　lot；　and　round　about　hisgrave；　e　the　nucleus　of　all　the　congregatedsepulchres　in　the　old　churchyard　of　King's　Chapel。　Certain　it　is　that；some　fifteen　or　twenty　years　after　the　settlement　of　the　town；　thewooden　jail　was　already　marked　with　weather…stains　and　otherindications　of　age；　which　gave　a　yet　darker　aspect　to　itsbeetle…browed　and　gloomy　front。　The　rust　on　the　ponderous　iron…work　ofits　oaken　door　looked　more　antique　than　anything　else　in　the　NewWorld。　Like　all　that　pertains　to　crime；　it　seemed　never　to　ha