To our national pride, we cannot but see
that many make a mistake in going to "America"; as, for instance, the
young girls of Annapolis, who, leaving comfortable homes, the away to
Boston, where, if they can get positions in an already crowded field,
they wear themselves out in factories; or, having a false pride which
prevents them from acknowledging failure and returning home, they remain
until, broken down by discouragement and disappointment, compelled to
accept charity. On this account the service at Annapolis is not what
might be desired; and Octavius humorously wonders, when the "green hand"
persistently offers him viands from the wrong side, "how he is expected
to reach the plate unless he puts his arm around her."
"But we digress." As our party, with other sight seers who have joined
the procession, promenade about the fort, a culprit in the guardroom
catches sight of the visitors as they pass, and, evidently for their
hearing, sings mischievously, -
"Farewell, my own!
Light of my life, farewell!
For crime unknown
I go to a dungeon cell"
We conclude, as he is so musical about it, that he does not feel very
much disgraced or oppressed by his imprisonment, though some one
curiously inquiring "why he is there", learns that it is for a trifling
misdemeanor, and that punishments are not generally severe; though the
guide tells of one soldier who, he says, "threw his cap at the Colonel,
and got five years for it; and we thought he'd get ten."
From the ramparts the picture extending before us southeastwardly is
very fine indeed, as, over the rusty houses shouldering each other up
the hill so that we can almost look down the chimneys, we look out to
the fortified islands and points, with the ocean beyond.
Point Pleasant, thickly wooded to the water's edge, hides the strangely
beautiful inlet from the harbor known as the North West Arm, which cuts
into the land for a distance of four miles (half a mile in width),
suggesting a Norwegian fiord; but that, and the country all about the
city, we enjoy in a long drive later.
On the return, regardless of the gaze of passengers astonished at our
unconventional actions, we sit on the platform of the rear car, while
"Pleasantly gleams in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas."
and the model conductor plies us with bits of information, which we
devour with the avidity of cormorants.
GRAND PRÉ.
Finally the brakeman shouts "Grand Pree;" and Octavia remarks, "Yes,
indeed, this is the grand prix of our tour," as the party step off the
train at this region of romance.
