20 WINTER SKETCHES. 



ness and wealth with the metropolis of litera- 

 ture and art. 



As a young boy, sixty-five years ago, I had 

 travelled from Boston to New York in a stage- 

 coach, and now as an old boy I desired to 

 retrace my steps. There are few of us who 

 would not wish to retrace the steps we have 

 made in such a length of years, to correct our 

 wanderings and to live our lives over again, 

 following in the straight line of duty. 



I felt assured that after this long interval of 

 time I could find my way back without much 

 difficulty, as most of it would be over the old 

 turnpike roads. I remembered the story that 

 Long Tom Coffin tells in the " Pilot" of his 

 wagon trip from Boston to Plymouth and of 

 " the man who steered — and an easy berth he 

 had of it ; for there his course lay atween walls 

 of stone and fences ; and, as for his reckoning, 

 why, they had stuck up bits of stone on end, 

 with his day's work footed up ready to his 

 hand, every half-league or so. Besides, the 

 landmarks were so plenty that a man with half 

 an eye might steer her, and no fear of getting 

 to leeward." 



Fanny was never put to harness but once, 

 and then she kicked herself out of it. I am 



