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To The Register : As this is my first visit to this famous city, I would like to give your readers a little of my experience. T-be more I see of Boston, the more I am impressed with it8 grandeur, magnificence and beauty. The order and harmony in which its municipal affairs are conducted - the quiet, eirnest, yet thoroughly active business propensities and facilities, its vast wealth and unlimited resources - the neatness of j[g streets, the stupendous maises of marble and brick, the beautiful parks so plentifully sprinkled all over the city, the fountains, flower-beds, and hanging garden., the many attractions and places of interest, in different parts of the city, the throng of restless human beingg, all mtent on going somewhere in the briefest possible time, THE LOADED STBEET CARS, which in smaller towns would sutrgest an unusual holiday, all are subjects of interest and arrest the attention of a strane;er. One marveU that this splendid city was all wrought by the diminutive brains and hands of puny man I Some of the streets are green and beautiful, not because of the trees and gardens in front of the buildings, but because the buildings, five and six stoned, churche8 and public buildings of massive structure, are literally covered with a beautiful clinging vine, a Virginia creeper, unlike our common ivy. It climbs and piasters iteelt against the walle, fitting itself to cornice, turret and dome. It will grow on glass, but in most cases is kept from the windows, which form square opening8 in the mass of green ness, and the eymmetry of the building is preserved. THE PUBLIC GARDENS. Boston Common and public parks, are generally thronged with idlers and pleasure seekers The soldier's monument appeals tojour national piide and patriotism. The beautiful ponds in the public gardens are presided over by the managers of white swan boats, which glide blissfully over the placid waters " for a nickel " all aorund the shores, which are banked with rare and beautiful plants and flowers. But the everlastine; " notice " to " keep off the pass " everywhere stares you in the face; md longing humanity must be content to siand or sit on earthen sidewalks, while it looks and sighs for blessings beyond its reach. Boston Common is not so exclusive - there is more freedom but no flowers. " City Point " is a beautiful out-look upon the Bay, and a delightful beach and bathing place (only look out for the sar.d fleas that are more troublesome than mosquitoes, and they permeate every bed} chamber unless rigidly excluded by bars, and bite savagely, for it is no unusual thing to see the blotches on the hands and faces of those we meet). THE IONO, BROAD PIER, partly roofed over, that extends half a mile or less out into the water is usually thronged with visitors. It looks beautiful when lighted by electric lamps in the evening. The water here is shallow for a long way out, and little boats containing people who like to " paddie their own canoe " are seen in considerable numbers threading their way between sloops and small vessels which lie at anchor. The ferry carries you from Row's Wharf to Oak Ieland, and thence by steam you can reach the beautiful beach "Point of Pines," a great resort for pleasure seekers. Refre8hment houses, games, exhibitions, music and dancing are found in abundance. A.nd bathing and clam hunting is also in order. Bunker Hill Monument, which stands across the Charlestown nver, and the navy yards, are worth going to see, and the privilege of climbing to the top of the shaft " may be had for a quarter." The view is said to repay the toil of climbing. I like to climb to high places; have climbed to the top of the Iowa capítol at Des Moines, of the State house at Laneing, Michigan, of the city hall at Detroit, but the undertaking here seemed too great, the ventilation insufficient, the day too warm, and I declined, content with a view of the surrounding grounds, fountains and a contemplation of this marvelous work of man and the heroic struggle for Independence that made such an achievement desirable. The galleries of natural history, art museum, Boston museum, etc, are wonderful collections, and must be seen to be appreciated. Fremont street, my present home, is one ot the principal streets in Boston. It is remarkably clean and neat - being gwept daiW by an army of street sweepers with huge brush brooms. It ia an aristocratie street and contains some of the finest homes and churohes in the city ; contains a doublé line of street car?, which are going day and night and always loaded with people. I have counted eightcars passing my room in five minutes, and that is the usual rate. I have wondered that there were no fibïs . in this great city, but have been told that fires were trequent, and that they gave only secret or silent alarms to the fire departments, and so their work was not hindered by crowds. I seldom see a child and never a dog, unless it is in the arms of a fashionably dressed lady. Two young &Qd beaatifully dressed ladies met on the sidewalk. One bore in her arms a home'y, black-nosed pug. " Oh, you little dar}'ng," said her friend, touehing with her jewelled Snger the pug's nose. " SDeak to him by name and see if he will know 'V' said the other. " What is it?" " Wil''," was answered. " Willie, Willie, oh, you little darliog." The dog napped, ?rowled and run cut bis tongue in a pleased dog way, and both ladies were deghted at this exhibition of canine intel"gence. These wonderfully fine ladies in this "cultured city " would consider it a diegrace to be seen with achild in arms. So much for oustom. But I am ashamed of my sex when I see such a display of love for the brute, to the exclusión of beautiful ohild humanity. A trip to EOÜTH BOSTON and East Boston and some of the Iower places about the harbor, reveáis the whereabouts of thousands of ohildren and dogs, and lean cats and the poor of Boston, for somehow, children, ale houses, gin shops, poverty and dirt go together. I saw hundreds of little children, nearly of a eize, making mud pies in the street - dirty, tear-stained, barefooted and ragged, and my heart ached for them as I saw them roughly pushed aside by drunken fathers and mothers who reeled through the Btreets with their pots of beer or whisky in their hands. Oh, the riches, the elegance, the fine homes of some parts of this grand Boston, and oh, the poverty, misery and sin in the oherl Will it always be so? When will the riches of this world be used for the good of all ? There is, there must be a way of adjusting these things if we can find it.


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Ann Arbor Register