tains are hung carelessly upward, instead of being drawn. I think the house is empty, perhaps for the summer. The visible side of the whole row of houses is now in the shade, —they looking towards, I should say, the southwest. Later in the day, they are wholly covered with sunshine, and continue so through the afternoon; and at evening the sunshine slowly with- draws upward, gleams aslant upon the windows, perches on the chimneys, and so disappears. The up- per part of the spire and the weathercock of the Park Street Church appear over one of the houses, looking as if it were close behind. It shows the wind to be east now. At one of the windows of the third story sits a woman in a colored dress, diligently sewing on something white. She sews, not like a lady, but with an occupational air. Her dress, I observe, on closer observation, is a kind of loose morning sack, with, I think, a silky gloss on it; and she seems to have a sil- ver comb in her hair, no, this latter item is a mis- take. Sheltered as the space is between the two rows of houses, a puff of the east-wind finds its way in, and shakes ofi some of the withering blossoms from the cherry-trees.

Quiet as the prospect is, there is a continual and

near thunder of wheels proceeding from Washington Street. In a building not far off, there is a hall for

exhibitions ; and sometimes, in the evenings, loud mu-' V, sic is heard from it; or, if a diorama be shown (that of Bunker Hill, for instance, or the burning of Mos-

cow), an immense racket of imitative cannon and mus-


May 16th. It has been an easterly rain yesterday and ‘co-day, with occasional lightings up, and then a heavy downfall of the gloom again.