Last winter in the United States : $b being table talk collected during a tour through the late Southern Confederation, the Far West, the Rocky Mountains, &c.Zincke, F. Barham (Foster Barham)
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Last winter in the United States : $b being table talk collected during a tour through the late Southern Confederation, the Far West, the Rocky Mountains, &c.
Zincke, F. Barham (Foster Barham)
United States -- Description and travel; United States -- Social life and customs -- 1865-1918
On crossing this bridge, on my return to the States, I left behind me
on the west bank more than two feet of snow. In some places the fences
were entirely buried. On the eastern side, however, of the river the
snow was much thinner, and in less than two hours we were passing over
a country from which it had almost disappeared. This was not lost on a
voluble little Irishwoman, the chief talker in a party of Irish whom
she had been endeavouring to persuade to leave Canada and settle in
the States. ‘You see for yourselves,’ she said, pointing out to them
how much less snow there was than what they had left two hours ago in
Canada, ‘you see for yourselves that this is the land of freedom; for
here, if a body has no shoes, she can go without them: but in Canada it
is entirely too cold: faith, then, this is the land of freedom.’
[Sidenote: _American Railway Travelling._]
For the first sixty miles of this journey we remained in the execrable
carriages of the Grand Trunk of Canada Company, and in the hands of
their officials, whose way of doing things leaves on the mind the
feeling that their object is to show how what ought to be done may be
neglected. The instant the Yankees took charge of the train everything
changed, as if by magic. You could feel at any moment that the train
was being driven against time, and not allowed to go anyhow. The
smartness with which the driver brought it into the stations, and took
it out, never waiting one instant longer than was necessary for giving
up the mail-bags, or whatever it might be the conductor had to do,
showed the value he attached to the passengers’ time, and to his own
reputation for punctuality. I believe there were times when we were not
stopped for more than thirty seconds. In a long day’s journey, to feel
that the train is handled in this way has quite an exhilirating effect.
All day long we were winding our way among the hills of Vermont, which
rose above the valleys to a height of six or seven hundred feet. Every
valley had its stream. The land appeared generally to be poor; but, as
is usual in such cases, it was very picturesque.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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