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commandant, Major W. for liberty to inspect the interior of the yard, but this haughty bashaw sent word" he was engaged, and that I must report my business to the lieutenant;" (rather a reproach to Uncle Sam.) As in duty bound, I obeyed his highness, and called on the lieutenant, whom I found unqualified to give the information I wished to obtain, and after undergoing sundry indignities from those mighty men of war, I had to give up the design. Through the politeness of Major Binny of Boston, I obtained the following particulars. The navyyard contains 50 42 pound cannon, 170 32 pound do. 100 42 pound carronades, 70 32 pound do., besides a large number of smaller guns; together with 150,000 round, grape, and shot of various sizes, from 42 to 6 pounds canister.
They are now building two ships of the line, which are nearly completed, or so far as is suitable to their safe preservation. One complete frame for a frigate of the first class, the keel of which will be laid this autumn, is now on hand, and will be used in the succeeding spring. A sloop of war to mount 20 32 pound carronades, will be launched in the course of the summer; two other sloops are to be built next season. It is contemplated to build a dry dock at this yard; the site for which is equal if not superior to any other. The navy-yard contains 60 acres of ground.
The line of battle ships are built under ship-houses, which completely defend them from the weather. Another is to be erected over the place of the frigate. This yard contains ground adapted for the location of a ropewalk, and every thing necessary to fit out any number of ships; and there could be built at one time twenty ships of war, of various classes. I walked through one of the battle ships of 110 guns, and five decks; one of the most awful, dread-inspiring machines in the universe!
But to return: Amongst the early settlers of this cradle of American liberty, were the Ludlows, Quincys, Walcots, Adamses, Lowells, Thatchers, and the great Otis family; all of whom were distinguished for talents and literature to these qualities, they united courage, firmness, and a love of liberty that feared no odds.
Amongst those renowned patriots, those defenders of the rights of mankind, shone Samuel Adams and John Han-. cock, a host in themselves. S. Adams was one of the common people, but having acted as sheriff many years in Boston, and being a man of great natural talents and address, was more popular among the great mass of the people than Hancock. On the other hand, Hancock was wealthy, and liberal as he was rich. He had been educated in ease and affluence, by an uncle who doated on him, and who at his death bequeathed him one million pounds sterling! I had these particulars from Mrs. Scott, his widow, who is now living in Boston. She states that her husband, Hancock, was so generous that he not only gave this great estate away, he threw it away. He came to this fortune at the commencement of the revolution. His high-born soul, fired with the love of liberty, indignant at the attempts of Great Britain to enslave his country, used to hold private consultation with Samuel Adams, whose influence over the people, was greater than Mr. Hancock's; in short, these two used to meet together privately, and lay their plans, which were disclosed to the people by Adams. They found it easy to infuse their spirit into a people naturally brave, generous, and independent. Thus were the citizens of Boston prepared to meet "liberty or death;" nor did they shrink from the high ground they had taken. Boston was the first to propose a colonial congress to oppose the first tax of Great Britain, on coffee, silks, &c. It was the first to propose the non-importation of British manufactures, addressing circular letters to her sister colonies, to join in the resolution; and it was the first victim of British vengeance. Besides Fanueil Hall, the citizens used to meet in the old south meeting-house, a spacious and splendid building, as best suited to their numbers. When the tea ships arrived in the harbor, the Bostonians in vain endeavored to have them returned, as they were consigned to the governor. Meantime they assembled in the old south, to deliberate what was best to be done, in regard to the tea. They sat from 9 o'clock till 3, when the question was put, "Do you stand to your resolution?" and was answered in the affirmative,
hem. con., and agreed not to suffer it to be landed. However, they concluded to wait till the owner of one of the ships (Mr. Roach) should wait on the governor, for leave to let his ship pass, which being refused, he returned to the meeting. After some disputing, a person in the front gallery, dressed like an Indian, raised the warwhoop. Upon this signal, meeting broke up, and seventeen men, in the disguise of Indians, proceeded to Grif fin's wharf, and in about ten minutes they hoisted out and broke open 342 chests of tea, and threw the whole overboard: they then returned peaceably, not having spoken a word during the transaction. At this time there were two British regiments in Boston; and whilst the tea question was under discussion, an affray took place between the citizens and the British troops, in which three of the former were killed, and one mortally wounded. The fourth man dying of his wounds, all of them were interred in one vault. The citizens of Roxbury and Charlestown, formed a junction with the corps in Key-street, and joining the procession, proceeded through Main-street, followed by an immense crowd of people; so numerous that they were compelled to walk six abreast, and the whole closed by a long train of carriages, belonging to the principal gentry in Boston. During the procession, all the bells tolled in the most doleful manner. But this was trifling compared with the difficulties and mortification they underwent during the port bill, and the residence of the British in their city. Beef, mutton, and pork, sold for 1s. 1 1-2d. sterling, per lb.-geese half a guinea a piece, and fowls 5s. a pair. But worse than all this, the British turned their beloved old south meeting-house into a horse-riding school; converting it into a stable! It was at this time, perhaps, the most richly furnished meeting-house of any in the colonies; the cushions being covered with crimson damask, and other costly meterials, and they stripped it of every thing, to the walls. The old south, however, is still standing, and has no appearance of being old. It is a very large meeting-house, on the corner of Washington and Milk-streets, in the heart of the city, and strange to tell, scarcely any of the young race know any
thing of its history. It is fitted up in a very superb style, has a large, fine organ, and is still used on public occasions, as well as for divine worship, which is performed in it every Sunday. I had the honor of hearing a sermon delivered in this "TEMPLE OF LIBERTY."
Since my visit to Boston, I have seen many that witnessed those trying scenes of the revolution; amongst whom is the respected relic of Governor Hancock, (as he is called here.) This lady, after the decease of Mr. Hancock, married a Mr. Scott; he died also. She is now a widow, a little turned of seventy, though no one would suppose her to be more than sixty; her fine yellow hair hanging in ringlets over her forehead, with scarcely a gray hair to be seen. She is under the com mon size, with a light handsome figure; she has what is called a laughing eye, and is as sprightly as a girl of sixteen. She was married a few days before the battle of Lexington, to Mr. Hancock, and was at Lexington during the battle. She related that "it was with the greatest difficulty she and her aunt kept Mr. Hancock from facing the British on that day, where he must inev itably have been sacrificed to the vengeance of Pitcairn, who had offered a reward for his head; and such was his ardour to engage Pitcairn, that they (the ladies,) both clung round his neck so tenaciously that he was unable to extricate himself from them." She said he was a hot-headed, rash man, being with great difficulty persuaded by his friends to keep concealed while the British were in search of his person. In order to secure his safety, his friends kept him by force several days and nights, hid in a swamp, without shelter. Mr. H. had no children, and bequeathed his property to the state, (as I have been told.) Let this be as it may, Mrs. Scott is far from being in independent circumstances. She is without a carriage, and had to give up the splendid dwelling of her beloved Hancock, whom she speaks of with the greatest veneration. She keeps his portrait in her parlor, which she showed me with much seeming pleasure. I saw the house she was mistress of; it is a noble stone building in Beacon street, and overlooks the mall. It is a reproach to Massachusetts, to suffer the widow of a
man to whom they owed so much, to remain in her pres ent situation. But she bears her reverse of fortune with the fortitude of a philosopher; and with two agreeable nieces, who live with her, is as cheerful as though she rolled in splendor. She is the daughter of the celebrated Quincy, whose father settled the village of that name near Boston. Her father's sister was the wife of the ex-president John Adams, and the mother of John Quincy Adams, president of the United States. So little is this respectable female known, that it was a mere accident I heard of her. I likewise called on the Miss Byles's, daughters of the celebrated Mather Byles, a great poet, a great tory, a great clergyman and a great wit. Finding his name in the history of the times, I mentioned the circumstance to a friend, who told me his two daughters lived in Boston. I sought them out, and found thein in an old decayed wooden house, at the foot of the mall. The house (which must have seen a century at least,) stood in a luxuriant grass plat, with two beautiful horse-chesnut trees growing near the door; the whole was enclosed by a decayed wooden paling, which communicated with the street by a small gate with a wooden latch. Upon opening the gate I was within a few steps of the door; but the looks of the house, the old rotten step at the door, the grass growing through it, not the trace of a human footstep to be seen, the silence that pervaded the mouldering mansion before me, I imagined it could be no other than a deserted house. I knocked at the door, however, and an elderly female opened it immediately; I inquired for the ladies of the house; she replied, "she was one of them, and that her sister was sick." Upon my saying something about paying my respects to them, she very coldly invited me to walk in. The house looked something better inside, though poverty and neglect marked it throughout. The parlor was small and ill furnished, having but two old tables, three or four old chairs that looked as though they had served the revolution. Amongst these was one which appeared to be the monarch of the rest; it was (a handsome chair once, no doubt,) curiously carved, wholly of wood, with a straight