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Updated: June 24, 2025
Day by day, week by week, Boston, New England, comes to fuse that part of me which is eastern. I grow at last into thinking myself a fixture. Boston is the center of music, of art, of literature. My only wish now is to earn money enough to visit my people in the West. And yet, notwithstanding all this, neither of us ever really became a Bostonian.
Have you a lot of English people with you? 'Only one; Miss Buckston, you know. Aunt Julia and the girls are here, and Herbert Vaughan, their friend. You know Herbert Vaughan; such a nice young creature; his mother is a Bostonian. 'I know about him; I don't know him, said Franklin, who indeed, as she reflected, would not be likely to have met the fashionable Herbert.
He judged that it would be wise to leave the four together, in the coffee-house, and, after receiving careful instructions how to reach the mansion of that most respectable and worthy Bostonian, Colonel Elihu Strong, he went into the street.
She who is ever extolling Boston can of course tell us what it is that Harvard University possesses which is unsurpassed in any other part of the world." Hannah looked chagrined. "You do not know?" went on Uncle Bob teasingly. "Oh, for shame! And you such an ardent Bostonian!
"Then why," we asked, not very relevantly, "don't you go and live in Boston?" "It wouldn't make me such a Bostonian if I did; I should want a half-dozen generations behind me for that. Besides, I feel my shortcomings less in New York." "You are difficult.
Try as she might, the Madam could never be Bostonian, and it was her cross in life, but to the boy it was her charm. Even at that age, he felt drawn to it. The Madam's life had been in truth far from Boston. She was born in London in 1775, daughter of Joshua Johnson, an American merchant, brother of Governor Thomas Johnson of Maryland; and Catherine Nuth, of an English family in London.
A "bright Bostonian" who met him once at my house, exclaimed as soon as he had gone out of the room, "At last, at last, I behold it, the mustache of Roland Tremayne!" "Of Roland Tremayne!" "Don't you remember in A Lawless Love, how often it's mentioned, and how glorious and golden it was? Well, I have never seen it till now, but now I have seen it!"
"This comes of the error which I have often deprecated," said the elder Corey. "In fact I am always saying that the Bostonian ought never to leave Boston. Then he knows and then only that there can BE no standard but ours. But we are constantly going away, and coming back with our convictions shaken to their foundations.
Yet a portrait or so lingers in my mental repository; let me throw them in, to close off the lot. No. 1. A sober Bostonian in the next state-room, whose assiduity with his sea-sick wife reminds one of Cock-Robin, when he sent Jenny Wren sops and wine.
"I believe you are all great Wagnerites in Boston?" "I'm a very bad Bostonian, Mrs. Mandel. I suspect myself of preferring Verdi," March answered. Miss Dryfoos looked down at her fan again, and said, "I like 'Trovatore' the best." "It's an opera I never get tired of," said March, and Mrs. March and Mrs. Mandel exchanged a smile of compassion for his simplicity.
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