ashore, the traveller speeding along at the leisurely pace of four miles per hour had ample time for observation and reflection.
Seated, in summer, under a capacious awning, he traversed the valley of the Mystic
, skirting the picturesque shores of Mystic pond
Instead of a foreground of blurred landscape, vanishing, ghostlike, ere its features could be fairly distinguished, soft bits of characteristic New England
scenery, clear cut as cameos, lingered caressingly on his vision—green meadows, fields riotous with blossomed clover, fragrant orchards and quaint old farmhouses, with a background of low hills wooded to their summits.
Passing under bridges, over rivers, between high embankments and through deep cuttings, floated up hill by a series of locks, he marvelled at this triumph of engineering, and if he were a director pictured the manufactures that were to spring up along this great thoroughfare, swelling its revenues for all time.
The tow-path of the canal was a famous promenade.
Upon Sunday afternoons especially, numerous pedestrians from the dusty city strolled along the canal for a breath of air and a glimpse of the open country, through the Royal
estate in Medford
, by the stone bridge on the Brooks
estate, the most picturesque surviving relic of canal days, past the substantial, old-fashioned mansion house of Peter C. Brooks
, as far, perhaps, as the Baldwin estate and the birthplace of Count Rumford
, in Woburn
‘I love that old tow-path,’ said Uncle Joe. ‘'Twas there I courted my wife; and every time the boat went by she came tripping out to walk a piece with me!
Bless you, sir, the horses knew her step, and “twa'n” t so heavy, nuther!’
Meanwhile, under the direction of Caleb Eddy
, who assumed the agency of the corporation in 1825, bringing great business ability and unquenchable zeal to this task, the perishable wooden locks were gradually