By means of this system of wires, which is rough
and inexpensive to a degree which in England we should scarcely believe,
the news brought by the English mail steamer is known at Boston, New York,
New Orleans, Cincinnati, and all the great American cities, before it has
had time to reach the environs of Halifax itself.
The telegraph costs about 20l. per mile, and the wires are generally
supported on the undressed stems of pines, but are often carried from tree
to tree along miserable roads, or through the deep recesses of the
forests.
The stores in Halifax are pretty good, all manufactured articles being
sold at an advance on English prices. Books alone are cheap and abundant,
being the American editions of pirated English works.
On the morning when we left Halifax I was awakened by the roll of the
British drum and the stirring strains of the Highland bagpipe. Ready
equipped for the tedious journey before us, from Halifax to Pictou in the
north of the colony, I was at the inn-door at six, watching the fruitless
attempts of the men to pile our mountain of luggage on the coach.
Do not let the word coach conjure up a vision of "the good old times,"
a dashing mail with a well-groomed team of active bays, harness all "spick
and span," a gentlemanly-looking coachman, and a guard in military
scarlet, the whole affair rattling along the road at a pace of ten miles
an hour.
The vehicle in which we performed a journey of 120 miles in 20 hours
deserves a description. It consisted of a huge coach-body, slung upon two
thick leather straps; the sides were open, and the places where windows
ought to have been were screened by heavy curtains of tarnished moose-deer
hide. Inside were four cross-seats, intended to accommodate twelve
persons, who were very imperfectly sheltered from the weather. Behind was
a large rack for luggage, and at the back of the driving-seat was a bench
which held three persons. The stage was painted scarlet, but looked as if
it had not been washed for a year. The team of six strong white horses was
driven by a Yankee, remarkable only for his silence. About a ton of
luggage was packed on and behind the stage, and two open portmanteaus were
left behind without the slightest risk to their contents.
Twelve people and a baby were with some difficulty stowed in the stage,
and the few interstices were filled up with baskets, bundles, and
packages.
