“May liberty always spread its joyful wings over this place—liberty, that opens men’s hearts to beneficence, and gives the relish to those who enjoy the effects of it; and _may loyalty to a king, under whom we enjoy this liberty_, ever remain our character—a character always justly due to this land, and of which our enemies have in vain attempted to rob us.” The family of Faneuil had been more than fifty years in America, and had fled from persecution in France to find a refuge in the wilderness. The Faneuil arms were subsequently placed in the hall, elegantly carved and gilt. Eight or nine years after the erection of Faneuil Hall, it took fire from a neighbouring conflagration, and was nearly burnt to the ground. It was on one of the coldest nights of January, and the water froze so rapidly, that it was impossible to work the engines. The walls were left standing, and it was rebuilt and enlarged soon after. Just against the end of Faneuil Hall, in a broad dock, now filled up and built upon, used to lie a cluster of oyster-boats, that were half house, half vessel, floating oyster-shops—in short, of the most canonical rudeness and simplicity. It was as necessary to go to them to eat oysters in perfection, as it is to go to Blackwall for white-bait; and no true gourmand pretended to have elsewhere found the relish. They are gone, alas! and with the old hulks are gone the amphibious venders—the rude, high-booted, superannuated oyster-openers, dressing, for years after they had given up the vocation, just as if they were embarking for the mud-bank, and talking in the same hoarse tone as if their words were meant to struggle, as of yore, with a nor’wester. So flee away before the advances of improvement all that reminded us of other days; and it is by this resolute plucking up of old associations, and resolute modernizing and improving, even upon the most sacred habits and usages of our forefathers, that this new nation keeps its unchecked headway, with neither rooted superstition nor cherished prejudice to restrain it. When it ceases to be so, we shall have the age of poetry; but adieu, then, to the age of improvement! THE END. PRINTED BY RICHARD CLAY, BREAD-STREET-HILL. TRANSCRIBER NOTES Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings of names occur, the majority spelling was used. Changes include: — Renssellaer to Rensselaer — and Susquehannah to Susquehanna. Inconsistencies in punctuation have been maintained. Some illustrations moved to facilitate page layout. A cover was created for this eBook. [The end of _American Scenery, Volume II_, by N. P. (Nathaniel Parker) Willis.] End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of American Scenery, Vol. II (of 2), by Nathaniel Parker Willis