And Yet For A Few
Minutes Every Day The Bustle Of Life Pervades This Lonely Spot, For Here
Meet Travellers From East, West, And South; The Careworn Merchant From The
Atlantic Cities, And The Hardy Trapper From The Western Prairies.
We here
changed cars for those of the Indianapolis line, and, nearly at the same
time with three other trains, plunged into the depths of the forest.
"You're from down east, I guess?" said a sharp nasal voice behind me. -
This was a supposition first made in the Portland cars, when I was at a
loss to know what distinguishing and palpable peculiarity marked me as a
"down-easter." Better informed now, I replied, "I am." "Going west?" -
"Yes." "Travelling alone?" - "No." "Was you raised down east?" - "No, in the
Old Country." "In the little old island? well, you are kinder glad to
leave it, I guess? Are you a widow?" - "No." "Are you travelling on
business?" - "No." "What business do you follow?" - "None." "Well, now, what
are you travelling for?" - "Health and pleasure." "Well, now, I guess
you're pretty considerable rich. Coming to settle out west, I suppose?" -
"No, I'm going back at the end of the fall." "Well, now, if that's not a
pretty tough hickory-nut! I guess you Britishers are the queerest critturs
as ever was raised!" I considered myself quite fortunate to have fallen in
with such a querist, for the Americans are usually too much taken up with
their own business to trouble themselves about yours, beyond such
questions as, "Are you bound west, stranger?" or, "You're from down east,
I guess." "Why do you take me for a down-easier?" I asked once.
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