Boston is big. There are finely dressed people everywhere you look and the narrow, winding streets are noisy and crowded with traffic. Drivers of the ox-drawn wagons shout and crack their whips. Iron-tired wheels clank loudly on the cobblestones. Carts and chaises race down the twisted alleys and you have to keep a sharp watch while you dodge across. One time a fancy coach drawn by six white horses came within inches of running me down. Near the place where King, Queen, and Cornhill streets meet, that's the busiest place in town. The streets are .
paved
casual
wide
active