None of the elevations and undulations of the natural arena had yet been levelled for the sake of more commodious streets. Wharves had been built out, and footbridges thrown over the running waters and the creeks that dissected the place, and gave it its refreshing aspect of streams of running water. The streets followed the curves of the valleys, and sometimes ascended the elevations, so that whoever traversed Boston must follow the nursery song,

"Here we go up, up, up,

Here we go down, down, down."

There were many beautiful overhanging thickets close to the streets, filled with hanging branches, and the whole of Beacon Hill was covered with a dense shrubbery of wild plants, interspersed with low pines and cedar-bushes. It was also full of springs of water, which, at the breaking up of winter, after they had been fed with the winter's snow, overflowed and became little cascades, leaping from height to height upon the declivities of Beacon Hill. A path had been cleared with steps leading to the beacon, around which were placed some rude benches; but all else retained the inexpressible charm of primitive wildness, and in a summer's morning a delightful fragrance arose upon the dewy air, the mingled odors of hundreds of wild plants indigenous to this favored spot. At the foot of Beacon Hill lay the training-field or common, having much the aspect from that height which it has at present. For although it was not polished and regular as at the present day, the primeval trees of the forest waved over the greensward, as they had been left in irregular and masses. groups

This half-rural, half-fortified, and wholly peaceful and prosperous town possessed for Naomi an inexpressible charm. Boston was at this time worthy, as it has ever

şince been, of the deep love, the strongest and most respectful attachment, of its sons and daughters. Who would not be proud of its origin and its history? All the people were the children of the town, and until the Quaker madness none had been oppressed.

It is true, Mrs. Hutchinson and her followers had been banished; but banished only from this soil and territory. The wide country was open to them; they could go elsewhere and enjoy their own tenets, and teach them elsewhere. The fathers of Boston wished no mischievous, busy, interfering woman in their united household, slandering the most honored members of their large family, and they denied her a lodging-place in any of the chambers of their family mansion. They were not capable of that wide and indiscriminate hospitality of him of Merry Mount,* which admitted heretics, thieves, and wassailers into his domestic circle. They were not inquisitors; they did not burn her for her heresies; they merely turned her from their premises, and shut the door in her face.

Until the year preceding that of which we write, no forfeiture of life for opinions had stained the annals of the colony. "Hardly a nation of Europe has yet made its criminal law as humane as that of Massachusetts until this period." Until this time the laws of Boston had been the unwritten code of the Christian heart. On that beautiful bay no blood of Abel cried out against his brother, till the Quakers, whom our fathers called the children of the Devil, thrust themselves, with their wild blasphemies, into the midst, to try men's souls.

Boston had never since its foundation been more pros

* See the account of Morton, in the annals of the time.
+ Bancroft.

perous than at this time. Cromwell had favored New England. Commerce was flourishing beyond all precedent; forall goods imported to or from Massachusetts were free from all custom, taxation, or duty, either inward or outward." They were at peace with the Indians; the Pequots had been subdued. Charles had returned to the throne of his fathers, but Massachusetts was sufficiently loyal. They did not yet tremble for the loss of their charter, or for fear of royal governors. It seemed as though the Quaker irruption, as it might be called, was permitted by Providence to try their souls, to see how far prosperity had hardened their hearts, or how far their own religious privileges had made them forgetful of the consciences of others. On this clear and beautiful horizon we have just sketched, a little cloud arose, "no bigger than a man's hand," but it ascended and spread till it enveloped the whole country in gloom.

Naomi, as I have said, was charmed with the external aspect of her new home. She had scarcely been there two weeks when she ascended the steps that led to the summit of Beacon Hill, to take a birdseye view of the whole environment. When she looked upon the bay, it was dotted all over with boats passing from Cambridge, from Charlestown, Dorchester, and from various other points; for this placid expanse of water was not then covered with a network of bridges, and the perpetual passage of boats and darting of the Indian canoe gave a life and animation to the scene quite unknown to us. Besides the ferry-boats constantly passing from point to point, many gentlemen kept boats rowed by their own servants, and had they been gondolas, Boston would have been almost a miniature Venice. If the water was alive, the land-side presented to Naomi a picture of beautiful repose; the flocks and herds of cattle, feeding upon

the lonely meadows of Brookline, shaded by large timbertrees, with scattered cottages upon the rising ground; the town of Roxbury, clustering around its rocks and nestling in its hills, its meeting-house upon a conspicuous height; the modest college on the plain of Cambridge; the fresh-springing husbandry and peaceful wigwams of the Indians at Nonantum; the gracefully elevated land upon the north, now known as Breed's, Bunker, and Prospect Hills; the full-swelling, all-embracing sea;and her heart bounded with exultation and gratitude. She saw that "the land was blessed by the blessing of heaven above, and the blessing of the deep beneath; blessed by the dew upon the mountains, and the deep that coucheth beneath."

While Naomi stood upon the summit of Beacon Hill, the shrill sound of drums and fifes rose upon the calm air, and soon the more emphatic voice of "loud-babbling guns was heard. As she descended the easier slope of the southern side, she saw the training-field, or common, covered with people. The "great artillery company was in the field; also many other companies, armed with firelock or pike. It was one of the training-days, so frequent in the early part of our history. Scarcely any condition of rank or age exempted the people from the duty of being thus prepared for the defence of their families and their firesides, when Indian foes were all around, and the duty of protecting the country was next to the duty of worshipping God.

As Naomi passed the side of the field, separated from her only by a fence of rails, it was a solemn and impressive sight; the captain of each company had called his soldiers into close order, and, with every head bent upon a pike or a musket, each was at prayer at the head of his company. As the murmur of their voices reached Na

omi, there was something deeply impressive and beautiful in this act of the citizen soldiers, in arms to protect their homes and their country, but relying upon the aid of a higher power. Prayer preceded and followed the thunder of the great artillery. Their preparation for battle was a religious preparation, for they believed themselves, like the Israelites of old, ordained to drive out the heathen before them, and to take possession of the country.

As Naomi naturally hesitated at such a moment to cross the training-field alone, she retraced her steps in order to pass through what is now called School Street, to her home in Washington Street. As she turned into School Street, she saw an immense crowd of men, boys, and even a few women, filling the whole breadth of the street, around a guard of soldiers with drums, that to her sounded lugubrious, like the muffled drum of death. She was going to meet one of those atrocious processions that too often disgraced the highways of the country. In the midst of the crowd was an ox-cart drawn by two oxen, with two innocent women innocent of every thing but Quakerism chained to the tail of the cart, the sheriff and constable, both honored men, on each side with knotted whips, charged to inflict the disgraceful torture of lacerating the unprotected shoulders of these women. One of the women was so aged that it seemed as if her feeble veins could scarcely spare the crimson drops that followed at every lash of the whip. The other was young and fair. Even here, in this most horrible exhibition of dark bigotry and cruel power, a touching circumstance softened it to the eye, while it made the heart swell with mingled pity and indignation. The young

husband of the younger victim, himself not a Quaker, walked close to the cart, and, while his face was ashy