A SOBER CITY

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 3716, 26 October 1926, Page 2

A SOBER CITY

BOSTON AND ITS PEOPLE ART, COMMERCE, AND SPORT [Written by J.T.IL, for the ‘ Evening Star.’] Nowadays the very name America or “United Status” calls up mental visions of money kings, Jazz hounds, professional boxers, movie stars, am authors who amass material either from the divorce courts or the same old ranch out West. Only sensational news finds its way to us across the Pacific. , . . I should like to introduce to you at least one American city wherein culture, stability, and peace are outstanding characteristics. J. refer to i-eston. From what i know oi that city ? am sure that its citizens suffered noth ig more than common sense sorrow when Rudolph Valentino died. AN HISTORICAL HARBOR.

Boston is about two days from New York by boat. From the moment you pass Cape Cod, the scene of Joseph Lincoln’s stories, the atmosphere changes—not so much in temperature as in its influence on the human mind. From the moment a bluff Boston pilot clambers up the rope, ladder on to vour ship you develop a quite at home” feeling. Yon behold his ruddy, weather-beaten countenance, and murmur patriotically, “Here is something British at last.” You _ forget all about that historical misadventure, “The Boston Tea Party,” which was held in this very harbor. After all, did the fault of that not he with a crowned head long since deceased? „ , . It is earlv in a fresh March morning. The sky, * a frosty blue overhead, brightens to delicate pink around the horizon and the hills beyond the city. The air, as yon breathe it, makes you think of diamonds and champagne. A foreign merchantman creeps up behind you, and vour crew springs into action with a will in an effort to race it at berthing. A few hours later your ship is cleared for fumigation purposes, a disinfecting gas being released into every nook and cranny, from the fore peak to the poop. All vessels coining to Boston arc treated thus. A “GALLANT” FLEET.

On your way from the docks to the town vou puss a fleet of captured rum runners. Derelicts they look now—old and forbidding after having been relieved of their cargo of liquid warmth. Hurry past these tombstones of King Alcohol', for things are more cheerful up the street. In the thoroughfares between the docks and South Station there is a wealth of commercial traffic, conspicuous among which are lorries carrying New Zealand wool, ft seems pleasantly strange to sec the produce of “ Ngatawhaka,” and like sheep stations being dumped into a Boston wool store. It creates a spirit of camaraderie. A TOWN WITHIN A TOWN. South Railway Station, or “ Depot,” as it is called, is quite a town in itself; it includes streets and lanes of shops, not to mention restaurants, cafeterias, and variety stalls. At least twenty platforms shoot out into a maze of broad gauge railway lines. Some of these are vacant; others accommodate short express trains about to leave for New York, Chicago, and other big cities. Local trains arrive and depart with almost ceaseless regularity. Suburban trains are tucked away in an obscure corner, and freighters are nowhere to bo seen.

The engines, monsters of the iron trail, rumble restlessly about to the accompaniment of bells, which, although of different tones, play quite harmoniously upon the car. From South Station you can take either an electric car or a tube train to the big Central Square. But whichever it is you choose you ultimately will have to obtain your first view of Park street and the square after ascending an escalator. For, in Boston, the trams have to dive underground when approaching the heart of the city. Thus, in that most fascinating (piarter, comparative peace reigns, and people can cross the streets and do their shopping in safety. A SERIOUS NOTE. Theatreland in Boston is not impressive, the big shows being monopolised by New York and Chicago. But what the city lacks in this respect it more than makes up in its study of art and literature. The art galleries, museums, and libraries, although unheard of in our part of the world, rival those in London. Concert halls also are well supported. The Bostonians, never prone to self-advertisement, revel in their own treasure stores, and we enjoy the fruits of their studies through the best American literature, which undoubtedly originates in New England.

Yon cannot help but notice the number of students who throng the streets of, Boston during the late afternoon. Conspicuous among them are young men from Harvard University. A fine type these—big, clean-looking, athletic fellows who take a boyish interest in everything. Neither the capacity to be easily bored nor priggish self-con-sciousness is included among their personal traits. LUSTY SPORT: During a visit 1 made to Harvard 1 was fortunate enough to witness a game of American football between two college teams, which evidently lined up with the purpose of wiping each other off the face of the earth. Only solid padding and protective armor frustrated their plans.

The laws of tin's game, if faithfully adhered to, necessitate a series of wild hull charges being made at the player who is foolish enough to obtain possession of the ball. Fnless be combines (In' elnsiveness of an eel with the strength and the hide of a rhinoceros he will find himself not only soundly tackled hnt also kicked and thoroughly danced upon until, by some groat stroke of look, lie manages to get rid of the ball. And, in the meantime, spectators yell themselves into a. frenzy. What a pity il is that. I’nghy isn’t played extensively in America! In this part of the world ice hockey, as a scientific winter pastime, has foothall healen to a frazzle. One evening I attended a clash heIwccn a leading Boston club and (he “ Canadians,” a famous French team from Montreal. The speed of the game, together with the flashing of the skates in (lie electric light and the brilliant colors of the players, was be-