Ever since my earliest remembrance I have had a great passion for
travelling, seeing foreign countries, and studying foreign manners. I
believe this disposition runs in our family, for all the Trotters, I
am assured, have been great travellers. My great grandfather, Absalom
Trotter, was famous for having the longest legs in the state of
Massachusetts, and for making the best use of them. He could beat a
horse at a stretch of a month or so; but he died just as the Providence
railroad was completed. My great aunt, Peggy Trotter, was also
celebrated among her neighbors for an unconquerable propensity to move
about. There was not a story circulating in the town, but she was the
first to find it out, and the most industrious in communicating it to
all her acquaintance. If she had lived till this day, I verily believe
the newspaper editors would have hired her to carry expresses; for
when she once got hold of a piece of intelligence, it is inconceivable
how rapidly she made it fly through all quarters of the town. When she
died, people were afraid that news would be scarce forever afterwards;
but steamboats came into fashion about that time, so that we have not
been without a supply of intelligence from various parts.
I was born in Fleet street, down at the north end, in Boston. My
father was a West-India captain, who used to sail in a little schooner
from Boston to Guadaloupe. He commonly carried out a load of lumber,
that is, pine boards, plank, timber, and shingles; and brought back a
cargo of molasses. Every time he returned from a voyage, he brought us
oranges, lemons, and pine-apples, fruits which do not grow hereabouts.
These rarities always excited my admiration; and I was delighted to
sit in the chimney-corner during the long winter evenings, and listen
to his description of the West-India islands, where the summer and
the fruits and the green fields last the whole year round; and where
no snow or ice chills the air, but fresh verdure and bright flowers
enliven the landscape from the beginning of the year to the end of it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account