Leaving New York by the New York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad, we found ourselves, at the end of a three hours' ride, in New Haven, the beautiful "City of Elms."
Everything here bears the impress of New England, with the special peculiarities of Connecticut, land of smart sayings and of the proverbial wooden nutmegs and oak hams. Stepping from the cars, my ears were first saluted by the salutations of two genial Yankees, one of whom, I inferred from the conversation, had just arrived from Bridgeport, and the other at the depot had awaited his coming. Compliments were passed by the latter, who saluted his friend with—
"Well, old boy, where have you been all summer? I see you have got your dust full of eyes."
The reply to this salute was in entire harmony with the interrogation, and both walked away from the station, amusing each other with odd maxims and witty retorts.
It being our intention to remain several weeks in New Haven, we decided to take up our abode at a private house, and with this object in view we started in pursuit of suitable accommodations. It was soon discovered that in the matter of board we were competing with "Old Yale," students always being preferred, owing to the prospect of permanency.
A reconnoissance of several hours, during which we saw more stately elms than I ever expect to see again in so short a period, brought us to 66 Chapel street, where we were pleasantly lodged, with an excellent table, and favored with a Yankee landlord from the classic banks of the Rhine.
Universal quiet on the streets, and an inexhaustible supply of brown bread and beans at the breakfast table, was an unmistakable evidence that we had reached a New England Sunday. After breakfast, the weather being fine, I was invited to accompany some young gentlemen in a sail down the harbor. Being uncertain as to the propriety of such a proceeding on the seventh day, I was promptly assured that the Blue Laws of Connecticut would not be outraged in case I had taken a generous ration of brown bread and beans before starting.
A ride of half an hour, with but little wind in our sails, carried us down through the oyster beds, to a point nearly opposite the lighthouse at the mouth of the harbor. A novel sight, in my judgment, is a multitude of oyster plantations staked out in such a manner as to show the proprietor of each particular section his exact limit or boundary.
To those of my readers who are familiar with hop-growing regions, I would say that an oyster farm is not unlike a hop field which seems to have been suddenly inundated by water, leaving only the tops of the poles above the surface. Oyster raising is one of the leading features of New Haven enterprise, and the Fair Haven oysters, in particular, are regarded among the best that are cultivated on the Atlantic coast. On our return trip up the harbor the tide was going out, and as the water was extremely shallow in many places, and also very clear, we could see oysters and their less palatable neighbors, clams, in great abundance. I was strongly tempted to make substantial preparation for an oyster dinner, but on being informed that such a course would be equivalent to staking out claims in a strange water-melon patch, I concluded to desist, and contented myself with seeing more oysters in half an hour than I had seen in all my life before.