Music Welcome to snoozecast. The podcast is designed to help you fall asleep. Find a said snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by a Blessed Harbor. Tonight we'll read an excerpt from American Notes, a travel long written by Charles Dickens, detailing his trip from the year 1842. All there, he acted as a critical observer of North American society, almost as if returning a status report on their progress. Having arrived in Boston, he traveled as far south as Richmond, Virginia, As far west as St. Louis, Missouri, and as far north as Quebec, Canada. The city he liked best on his trip, Boston. The inspiration for this episode came from our recent Helen Keller episode. autobiography references a story within another section of tonight's book as inspiring Helen's mother to seek out specialized education for her daughter. Dickens' American journey was also an inspiration for his novel, Martin Chuzzlewood. If you've

been listening to our Woodcraft series of episodes lately, you may have heard

mention of how the Woodcraft author named one of his famous handcrafted canoes

after a Chuzzel wind character.

Let's get cozy.

Close your eyes.

Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. As we did not land at Boston until after dark, I received my first impressions of the city in walking down to the custom house on the morning after our arrival, which was Sunday. I am afraid to say, by the way, how many offers of pews and seats in church for that morning were made to us by formal note of invitation before we had half finished our first dinner in America. But if I may be allowed to make a moderate guess, without going into nicer calculation, I should say that at least as many sittings were

proffered us, as would have accommodated a score or two of grown-up families. The number of creeds and forms of religion to which the pleasure of our company was requested was in very fair proportion. being able in the absence of any change of clothes, to go to church that day, we were compelled to decline these kindnesses one and all, and I was reluctantly obliged to forego the delight of hearing Dr. Channing, who happened to preach that morning for the first time in a very long interval. When I got into the streets upon the Sunday morning, the air was so clear, the houses were so bright, the signboards were painted in such gaudy colors. The gilded letters were so very golden. The bricks were so very red. The stone was so very white. The blinds and area railings were so very green. The knobs and plates upon the street doors so marvelously bright and twinkling. And also slight and unsubstantial in appearance that every thoroughfare in the city looked exactly like a scene in a pantomime. rarely happens in in the business streets that a tradesman, if I may venture to call anybody a tradesman, where everybody is a merchant resides above his store, so that many occupations are often carried on in one house, and the whole front is covered with boards and inscriptions. As I walked along, I kept glancing up at these boards, confidently expecting to see a few of them change into something, and I never turned a corner suddenly, without looking out for the clown and pantaloon. who I had no doubt were hiding in a doorway or behind some pillar close at hand. As to Harlequin and Columbine, I discovered immediately that they lodged. They are always looking after lodgings in a pantomime at a very small clockmaker's one-story high near the hotel, which in addition to various symbols and devices, almost covering the whole front had a great dial hanging out to be jumped through, of course. The suburbs are, if possible, even more unsubstantial looking than the city. The white wooden houses, so white that it makes one wink to look at them, are so sprinkled and dropped about in all directions, without seeming to have any root at all in the ground. And the small churches and chapels are so prim and bright and highly varnished, that I almost believed the whole affair could be taken up piecemeal like a child's toy and crammed into a little box. The city is a beautiful one and cannot fail. I should imagine to impress all strangers very favorably. The private dwelling houses are, for the most part, large and elegant. The shops extremely good. And the public building's handsome. The state house is built upon the summit of a hill, which rises gradually at first, and afterwards by a steep ascent, almost from the water's edge.

In front is a green closure called the Clawment. The site is beautiful, and from the top, there's a charming panoramic view of the whole town in neighborhood. light is beautiful. And from the top, there is a charming panoramic view of the whole town

in neighborhood.

In addition to a variety of offices, it contains two handsome chambers. In one, the House of Representatives of the State hold their meetings. In the other, the Senate. Such proceedings, as I saw here, were conducted with perfect gravity and decorum, and were certainly calculated to inspire attention and respect. There is no doubt that much of the intellectual refinement and superiority of Boston is referable to the quiet influence of the University of Cambridge, which is within three or four miles of the city. The resident professors at that university are gentlemen of learning and varied attainments and are, without one exception that I can call to mind, men who would shed a grace upon, and do honor to any society in the civilized world. Many of the resident Gentry in Boston and its neighborhood, and I think I am not mistaken in adding a large majority of those who are attached to the liberal professions there have been educated at this school. Whatever the defects of American universities may be, they dig up the buried ashes of no old superstitions, never interpose between the people and their improvement, exclude no man because of his religious opinions. Above all in their whole course of study and instruction, recognize a world and a broad one too, lying beyond the college walls. It was a source of inexpressible pleasure to me to observe the almost imperceptible, but not less certain effect, brought by this institution among the small community of Boston, and to note, at every turn, the humanizing tastes and desires it has engendered, the affectionate friendships to which it has given rise, the amount of vanity it has to spell. The golden calf they worship had Boston is a pygmy compared with the giant effigies set up in other parts of the vast counting house which lies beyond the Atlantic. And the almighty dollar sinks into something comparatively insignificant amidst a whole pantheon of better gods.

Above all, I sincerely believe that the public institutions and charities of this capital of Massachusetts are as nearly perfect as the most considerate wisdom, benevolence, and humanity can make them. I never in my life was more affected by the contemplation of happiness, under circumstances of bereavement than in my visits to these establishments. It is a great and pleasant feature of all such institutions in America that they are either supported by the state or assisted by the state, or in the event of they are not needing it's helping hand that they act in concert with it, and are emphatically the peoples. I cannot but think, with a view to the principle and its tendency to elevate or depress the character of the industrious classes, that a public charity is a measurably better than a private foundation, no matter how well the latter may be in doubt. In our own country, where it has not, until within these later days, been a very popular fashion with governments to display any extraordinary regard for the great mass of the people or to recognize their existence as improvable creatures, private charities, on example in the history of the earth, have arisen, to do an incalculable amount of good but among the testitute and afflicted.

But the government of the country, having neither act nor part in them, is not in the receipt of any portion of the gratitude they inspire. And offering very little shelter or relief beyond that which is to be found in the workhouse in the jail has come not unnaturally to be looked upon by the poor rather than as a stern master quick to correct and punish than a kind of protector merciful and vigilant in their hour of need. The Perkins' institution and Massachusetts asylum for the blind at Boston is super-intended by a body of trustees who make an annual report to the corporation. blind of that state are admitted graciously. Those from the adjoining state of Connecticut, or from the states of Maine, Vermont, or New Hampshire, are admitted by a warrant from the state to which they respectively belong, or failing that must find security among their friends, for the payment of about 20 pounds English for their first year's board and instruction, and 10 for the second. I went to see this place one very fine winter morning, an Italian sky above, and the air so clear and bright on every side, that even my eyes, which are none of the best, could follow the minute lines and scraps of tracery in distant buildings. Like most other public institutions in America of the same class, it stands a mile or two without the town in a cheerful, healthy spot and is an airy, spacious, handsome edifice. is built upon a height commanding the harbor. When I paused for a moment at the door and marked how fresh and free the whole scene was, what sparkling bubbles glanced upon the waves and welled up every moment to the surface as though the world below, like that above, were radiant with the bright day and gushing over in its fullness of light. I gazed from sail to sail away upon a ship at sea, a tiny speck of shining white, the only cloud upon the still deep, distant blue, and turning saw a blind boy. The children were at their daily tasks in different rooms, except a few who were already dismissed and were at play. Here, as in many institutions, no uniform is worn. And I was very glad of it for two reasons. Firstly, because I am sure that nothing but senseless custom and want of thought would reconcile us to the liveries and badges we are so fond of at home. Secondly, because the absence of these things presents each child to the visitor in his or her own proper character, with their individuality unempaired, not lost in a dull, monotonous repetition of the same unmeaning garb, which is really an important consideration. Good orders, cleanliness and comfort, provided every corner of the building. The various classes who were gathered around their teachers answered the questions put to them with readiness and intelligence. And in a spirit of cheerful contest for precedence which pleased me very much, those who were at play were gleesome and noisy. More spiritual and affectionate friendships appeared to exist among them than would be found among other young persons. But this I expected and was prepared to find.

In a portion of the building, set apart for that purpose, our workshops for blind persons whose education is finished and who have acquired a trade, but who cannot pursue it in an ordinary manufacturing.

Several people were at work here, making brushes, mattresses, and so forth, and the cheerfulness industry and good order discernible in every other part of the building extended to this department also.

On the ringing of a bell, the pupils all repaired, without any guide or leader, to a spacious music hall, where they took their seats in an orchestra erected for that purpose, and listened with manifest delight to a voluntary on the organ played by one of them themselves. At its conclusion, the performer, a boy of 19 or 20, gave place to a girl and to her accompaniment, they all sang a hymn. And afterwards, it sort of course. The thought occurred to me as I sat down in another room before a girl, blind, deaf, and unable to speak, before a fair young creature with every human faculty and power of goodness and affection enclosed within her delicate frame, which she remained with a strong sense of touch.

Long before I looked upon her, the help had come. Her face was radiant with intelligence and pleasure. Her hair, braided by her own hands, was bound about ahead, whose intellectual capacity and development were beautifully expressed in its graceful outline, and her broad open brow, her dress, arranged by herself, was a pattern of neatness and simplicity. The work she had knitted lay beside her. Her writing book was on the desk.

There had slowly risen up this gentle, tender, grateful hearted being. I had previously been into another chamber where a number of blind boys were swinging and climbing and engaged in various sports. They all clamored as we entered to the assistant master who accompanied us. Look at me, Mr. Hart. Please, Mr. Hart, look at me, the vincin. I thought, even in this, an anxiety peculiar to their condition, that their little feats of agility should be seen. Among them was a small laughing fellow, who stood aloof, entertaining himself with a gymnastic exercise for bringing the arms and chest into play, which he enjoyed mightily, especially when, in thrusting out his right arm, he brought it into contact with another boy. It is obvious that one great feature of this system is the encouragement, even among such unlucky persons, of a decent self-respect. Something of the same spirit pervades all the institutions at South Boston. There is the house of industry, in that branch of it which is devoted to the reception of old or otherwise helpless poppers. These words are painted on the walls. Worthy of notice, self-government, quietude, and peace are blessings. They are met at the very threshold with this mild appeal. All with indoors is very plain and simple, as it ought to be, but arranged with a view to peace and comfort. It costs no more than any other plan of arrangement, but it speaks an amount of consideration for those who are reduced to seek a shelter there, which puts them at once upon their gratitude and good behavior. The building is divided into separate rooms, each with a chair of light and air, and these the better kind of poppers live. They have a motive for exertion and becoming pride in the desire to make these little chambers comfortable and decent. I do not remember number one, but it was clean and neat, and had its plant or two upon the window cell, or a row of crockery upon the shelf, or small display of colored prints upon the white washed wall, or perhaps it's wooden clock behind the door. Such are the institutions at South Boston. In all of them, the unfortunate citizens of the state are carefully instructed in their duties both to God and man. Are surrounded by all reasonable means of comfort and happiness that their condition will admit

of. Our appeal too, as members of the great human family, however afflicted or fallen, are ruled by the strong heart and not by the strong hand.

I have described them at some length because they're worth demanded it.

And secondly, because I mean to take them for a model,

and to content myself with saying of others we may come to, whose design and purpose are the same, that in this or that respect They practically fail or differ. I wish by this account of them, and perfect in its execution, but it's just intention, honest. I could hope to convey to my readers one hundredth part of the gratification the sights I have described afforded me. The tone of society in Boston is one of perfect belightness and courtesy. The ladies are unquestionably very beautiful. Their education is much as with us, neither better nor worse. I had heard some very marvelous stories in this respect, but not believing them was not disappointed. Blue ladies there are in Boston, but like philosophers of that color and sex in most other latitudes, they rather desire to be thought superior than to be so. Evangelical ladies there are, likewise, whose attachment to the forms of religion and The horror of theatrical entertainments are most exemplary. Ladies who have a passion for attending lectures are to be found among all classes and all conditions. In the kind of provincial life which prevails in cities such as this, the pulpit has great influence. The peculiar province of the pulpit in New England, always accepting the Unitarian Ministry, would appear to be the denouncement of all innocent and rational amusements. church, the chapel, and the lecture room are the only means of excitement accepted into the church, the chapel, and the lecture room, the ladies resort in crowds. However, religion is resorted to as a strong drink and as an escape from the dull monotonous round of home, those of its ministers who pepper the highest will be the surest to please. the fruits of the earth have their growth and corruption. Out of the rottenness of these things, there has sprung up in Boston a sect of philosophers known as Transant-Dunterlists.quiring what this might be supposed to signify, I was given to understand that whatever was unintelligible would be certainly transcendental. Not deriving much comfort, I pursued the inquiry still further, and found that the transcendentalists are followers of my friend, Mr. Carlisle, or I should rather say of a follower of his, Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson. This gentleman has written a volume of essays in which, among much that is dreamy and fanciful, if he will pardon me for saying so, there is much more that is true and manly, honest and bold. And then to Lism has its occasional vagaries.

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