Houses in the main part of the city hadn’t been burned. Still, as I drove through the streets I was stunned by the changes enemy occupation had wrought in the once-proud town—second in size only to London in the whole of the British Empire. The first thing I noticed was the absence of white fences around the houses. On my earliest journey into Philadelphia, so young that I still wore a padded “pudding cap” to protect my head as I toddled about, I’d thought the fences were toothy smiles. It was a standing family joke that I’d lisped, “The city is smiling at me!”
The city was smiling no longer. The stench of decay hung over the town like a fog. Every alley was full of makeshift huts and littered with filth, and an open pit full of dead horses added to the putrid smell. Old William Penn, who’d founded Philadelphia almost a century before, would have cried to see the sorry state of his “Greene Country Towne.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish
Comment on this Bubble
Your comment and a link to this bubble will also appear in your Facebook feed.