Domestic fiction; Short stories; Suburban life -- Fiction
The city, as we entered it, gave due token of excitement, and we felt
the celebration even in the air, which had a holiday quality very
different from that of ordinary workday air. The crowds filled the
decorous streets, and the trim pathways of the Common and the Public
Garden, and flowed in an orderly course towards the vast edifice on the
Back Bay, presenting the interesting points which always distinguish a
crowd come to town from a city crowd. You get so used to the Boston face
and the Boston dress, that a coat from New York or a visage from Chicago
is at once conspicuous to you; and in these people there was not only
this strangeness, but the different oddities that lurk in out-of-way
corners of society everywhere had started suddenly into notice.
Long-haired men, popularly supposed to have perished with the
institution of slavery, appeared before me, and men with various causes
and manias looking from their wild eyes confronted each other, let alone
such charlatans as had clothed themselves quaintly or grotesquely to add
a charm to the virtue of whatever nostrum they peddled. It was, however,
for the most part, a remarkably well-dressed crowd; and therein it
probably differed more than in any other respect from the crowd which a
holiday would have assembled in former times. There was little rusticity
to be noted anywhere, and the uncouthness which has already disappeared
from the national face seemed to be passing from the national wardrobe.
Nearly all the visitors seemed to be Americans, but neither the Yankee
type nor the Hoosier was to be found. They were apparently very happy,
too; the ancestral solemnity of the race that amuses itself sadly was
not to be seen in them, and, if they were not making it a duty to be
gay, they were really taking their pleasure in a cheerful spirit.
There was, in fact, something in the sight of the Coliseum, as we
approached it, which was a sufficient cause of elation to whoever is
buoyed up by the flutter of bright flags, and the movement in and about
holiday booths, as I think we all are apt to be. One may not have the
stomach of happier days for the swing or the whirligig; he may not
drink soda-water intemperately; pop-corn may not tempt him, nor
tropical fruits allure; but he beholds them without gloom,--nay, a grin
inevitably lights up his countenance at the sight of a great show of
these amusements and refreshments. And any Bostonian might have
felt proud that morning that his city did not hide the light of her
mercantile merit under a bushel, but blazoned it about on the booths and
walls in every variety of printed and painted advertisement. To the mere
aesthetic observer, these vast placards gave the delight of brilliant
color, and blended prettily enough in effect with the flags; and at
first glance I received quite as much pleasure from the frescoes that
advised me where to buy my summer clothing, as from any bunting I saw.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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