THE BALLOON.
TAUNTON.—COTTON MANUFACTURES.—POCASSETT.—RHODE ISLAND.
On arriving at Boston, I found the whole city in movement to assist, as the French say, in the ascent of a balloon, constructed by a Mr. Durant, already well known as an experienced and intrepid aëronaut.
Purchasing a ticket for the Amphitheatre, a lofty temporary enclosure with rows of seats running round it, I fell into the crowd, and made my way across the common at the extremity of which the building in question was situated.
Although the day was hot and bright, there was a very strong southerly wind blowing; and rolling away to the north-east, heavy masses of cloud passed over the sun like snow-drifts, promising a rapid flight for the balloon.
This common, flanked as it is by the finest residences of the city, the Bostonians often compare with our Hyde Park. Its surface is broken and irregular, and on this day the whole area was alive with expectant gazers; whilst the several lines of streets leading into it were thronged with hurrying reinforcements.
Selecting a point of vantage, I stood for some time examining the materials out of which this vast congregation was made up, and I have never seen a population whose general appearance would endure so close a scrutiny as well.
I computed that the women outnumbered their less attractive companions by at least a third: these were all in holiday trim, of course; invariably well dressed, but commonly having a pretension to taste and style I have never elsewhere observed so universally prevalent amongst the same class. The men, both in air and dress, were inferior to their female friends; so much so that it was difficult to imagine them belonging to the same order: and this remark, I think, will be found to apply generally throughout the Union.