In bespeaking his sea-outfit, he orders bell-buttons to his waistcoats; straps to his canvas trowsers.

Ah, poor Hay-Seed! how bitterly will burst those straps in the first howling gale, when thou art driven, straps, buttons, and all, down the throat of the tempest.
But think not that this famous town has only harpooneers, cannibals, and bumpkins to show her visitors.

Not at all.

Still New Bedford is a queer place.

Had it not been for us whalemen, that tract of land would this day perhaps have been in as howling condition as the coast of Labrador.
As it is, parts of her back country are enough to frighten one, they look so bony.