While Crossing The St. John, Near The Pretty Town Of Hampton, One Of Our
Leaders Put Both His Fore Feet Into A Hole, And Was With Difficulty
Extricated.
Precisely at midnight the stage clattered down the steep streets of the
city of St. John, to which the ravages of the cholera had recently given
such a terrible celebrity.
After a fruitless pilgrimage to three hotels,
we were at length received at Waverley House, having accomplished a
journey of one hundred miles in twenty hours! On ringing my bell, it was
answered by a rough porter, and I soon found that waiting chambermaids
are not essential at Transatlantic hotels; and the female servants, or
rather helps, are of a very superior class. A friend of mine, on leaving
an hotel at Niagara, offered a douceur in the shape of half a dollar to
one of these, but she drew herself up, and proudly replied, "American
ladies do not receive money from gentlemen." Having left my keys at the
Bend, I found my valise a useless incumbrance, rather annoying after a
week of travelling.
We spent the Sunday at St. John, and, the opportune arrival of my keys
enabling me to don some habiliments suited to the day, I went to the
church, where the service, with the exception of the sermon, was very well
performed. A solemn thanksgiving for the removal of the cholera was read,
and was rendered very impressive by the fact that most of the congregation
were in new mourning.
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