About two o’clock [_in the_] afternoon we arrived at New Haven
[_Connecticut_], where I was received with all possible respects and
civility. Here I discharged Mr. Wheeler with a reward to his
satisfaction and took some time to rest after so long and toilsome a
journey, and informed myself of the manners and customs of the place,
and at the same time employed myself in the affair I went there upon.
They are governed by the same laws as we in Boston (or little
differing) throughout this whole colony of Connecticut, and much the
same way of church government and many of them good, sociable people,
and I hope religious too. But [_they are_] a little too much
independent in their principles, and, as I have been told, were
formerly in their zeal very rigid in their administrations towards
such as their laws made offenders, even to a harmless kiss or innocent
merriment among young people....
Their diversions in this part of the country are on lecture days and
[_militia_] training days mostly. On the former there is riding from
town to town.
And on training days the youth divert themselves by shooting at the
target, as they call it (but it very much resembles a pillory), where
he that hits nearest the white has some yards of red ribbon presented
him, which being tied to his hatband, the two ends streaming down his
back, he is led away in triumph, with great applause, as the winners
of the Olympic Games. They generally marry very young, the males
oftener, as I am told, under twenty than above. They generally make
public weddings and have a way something singular (as they say) in
some of them, namely, just before joining hands the bridegroom quits
the place, who is soon followed by the bridesmen, and as it were,
dragged back to duty—being the reverse to the former practice among
us, to steal his bride....
Being at a merchant’s house, in comes a tall country fellow, with his
alfogeos [_cheeks_] full of tobacco, for they seldom lose their cud
but keep chewing and spitting as long as their eyes are open. He
advanced to the middle of the room, makes an awkward nod, and spitting
a large deal of aromatic tincture, he gave a scrape with his
shovel-like shoe, leaving a small shovel full of dirt on the floor,
made a full stop. Hugging his own pretty body with his hands under his
arms, [_he_] stood staring round him like a cat let out of a basket.
At last, like the creature Balaam rode on [_an ass_], he opened his
mouth and said: “Have you any ribbon for hatbands to sell, I pray?”
The questions and answers about the pay being past, the ribbon is
brought and opened. Bumpkin Simpers cries, “It’s confounded gay, I
vow,” and beckoning to the door, in comes Joan Tawdry, dropping about
50 curtsies, and stands by him. He shows her the ribbon. “Law you,”
says she, “It’s right gent; do you take it; ’tis dreadful pretty.”
Then she inquires: “Have you any hood silk, I pray?” which being
brought and bought, “Have you any thread silk to sew it with,” says
she, which being accommodated with, they departed. They generally
stand, after they come in, a great while speechless and sometimes
don’t say a word till they are asked what they want, which I impute to
the awe they stand in of the merchants, who they are constantly almost
indebted to and must take what they bring without liberty to choose
for themselves; but they serve them as well, making the merchants stay
[_wait_] long enough for their pay.