A Fine Old Book.

There has come into our hands a small volume which we value very much as illustrating the degree of proficiency to which Boston had attained in 1842. At that time, Boston was about two hundred years older than Chicago now is. This volume, consisting of sixty-three pages, is entitled “Boston Common;” and it bears the imprint of William D. Ticknor and H. B. Williams. The latter gentleman appears to have been the compiler of the work; and he treats of the formation of the Common, the sky over the Common, the liberty-tree, the old elm, the frog-pond, booths around the Common, the National Lancers, Hollis-street steeple, the iron fence, fountains on the Common, the gingko-tree, cows on the Common, etc. The compilation is done very cleverly, and betrays a fine literary taste, and sound literary judgment. Here and there are introduced apt poetical quotations,—one from Homer, one from Robert Treat Paine, and two from Dr. Isaac Watts. We will make a few excerpts at random, from this pleasing work, for the edification of our readers:—

“The iron fence and brick sidewalk which surround the Common are noble monuments of public enterprise, and of the energy of American mechanics.”

“Since the day when Elder Oliver’s horse had 280the exclusive right of pasturage in the Common, there has been various legislation on the subject of admitting the cows to feed there. The gradual and now entire disappearance of the cow from our streets, is a sure sign of the triumph of artificial life over primitive manners.”

“The gingko-tree is enclosed by a slight paling. This species of tree is common in Japan.... It lives and thrives, while the family in whose ancient enclosure it once grew has shared the common destiny of families in this land.... The gingko-tree has left the family enclosure, and grows on the Common. We perceive in this fact a correspondence with that law of republicanism which scatters the names and the wealth of rich men into the great community; or, if they are preserved for a while, allows their continuance, and concedes to them a voluntary regard, even as the gingko-tree, in its careful preservation, is permitted to hold an honorable place amongst the public trees. This particular tree is the object of an interest in which a degree of sadness mingles with respect, at the thought of changes which,” etc.

Here is an interesting paragraph: “The Common with its varied surface is admirably fitted for military exhibitions.... The National Lancers, a company of able-bodied men, mounted on fine-looking horses, each lance bearing a red flag, and the mounted musicians adding not a little to the life and novelty of the moving show, are a most 281interesting sight. A knowledge of the effectiveness of their weapon mingles a little dread with our feelings of admiration. The lance rests in a socket on the stirrup: when a charge is made, the lance, remaining in the socket, is dropped into a horizontal position, and, being so held, the horse is urged against the enemy, and thus the whole power of the animal is thrown into the lance, which is thereby capable of transfixing an assailant with irresistible force.”

At the time this elegant passage was written, the present editor of “The Boston Herald,” the venerable Col. Haskell (father of the editor of “The Minneapolis Tribune,” now in Europe on a bridal tour), was captain of the Lancers; and the lance he used to carry may still be seen in the Boston Museum, hanging on the wall beside the sword of Bunker Hill.

The perusal of this book, “Boston Common,” has awakened in us the hope that some enterprising Chicagoan will do a similar work for this city by writing a history and description of Dearborn Park. This park is the oldest in the city, having been laid out when Long John Wentworth was a rosy-cheeked lad, only nine years old, and only eight feet tall. We cannot say that it has improved with age: it has no frog-pond, nor any old elm, nor any gingko-tree. But it reeks with associations, and we think that some local littérateur ought to compile these associations into a tome.

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