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- 6231
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 6172
- text
- Guide-Book, Wellingborough, that will never lead you astray, if you but
follow it aright; and some noble monuments that remain, though the
pyramids crumble.
But though I rose from the door-step a sadder and a wiser boy, and
though my guide-book had been stripped of its reputation for
infallibility, I did not treat with contumely or disdain, those sacred
pages which had once been a beacon to my sire.
No.—Poor old guide-book, thought I, tenderly stroking its back, and
smoothing the dog-ears with reverence; I will not use you with despite,
old Morocco! and you will yet prove a trusty conductor through many old
streets in the old parts of this town; even if you are at fault, now
and then, concerning a Riddough’s Hotel, or some other forgotten thing
of the past. As I fondly glanced over the leaves, like one who loves
more than he chides, my eye lighted upon a passage concerning _“The Old
Dock,”_ which much aroused my curiosity. I determined to see the place
without delay: and walking on, in what I presumed to be the right
direction, at last found myself before a spacious and splendid pile of
sculptured brown stone; and entering the porch, perceived from
incontrovertible tokens that it must be the Custom-house. After
admiring it awhile, I took out my guide-book again; and what was my
amazement at discovering that, according to its authority, I was
entirely mistaken with regard to this Custom-house; for precisely where
I stood, _“The Old Dock”_ must be standing, and reading on concerning
it, I met with this very apposite passage:—_“The first idea that
strikes the stranger in coming to this dock, is the singularity of so
great a number of ships afloat in the very heart of the town, without
discovering any connection with the sea.”_
Here, now, was a poser! Old Morocco confessed that there was a good
deal of “singularity” about the thing; nor did he pretend to deny that
it was, without question, amazing, that this fabulous dock should seem
to have no _connection with the sea!_ However, the same author went on
to say, that the _“astonished stranger must suspend his wonder for
awhile, and turn to the left.”_ But, right or left, no place answering
to the description was to be seen.
This was too confounding altogether, and not to be easily accounted
for, even by making ordinary allowances for the growth and general
improvement of the town in the course of years. So, guide-book in hand,
I accosted a policeman standing by, and begged him to tell me whether
he was acquainted with any place in that neighborhood called the _“Old
Dock.”_ The man looked at me wonderingly at first, and then seeing I
was apparently sane, and quite civil into the bargain, he whipped his
well-polished boot with his rattan, pulled up his silver-laced
coat-collar, and initiated me into a knowledge of the following facts.
It seems that in this place originally stood the _“pool,”_ from which
the town borrows a part of its name, and which originally wound round
the greater part of the old settlements; that this pool was made into
the “Old Dock,” for the benefit of the shipping; but that, years ago,
it had been filled up, and furnished the site for the Custom-house
before me.
I now eyed the spot with a feeling somewhat akin to the Eastern
traveler standing on the brink of the Dead Sea. For here the doom of
Gomorrah seemed reversed, and a lake had been converted into
substantial stone and mortar.
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