The City Of Portland, With Its Busy Streets, And Crowded Wharfs, And
Handsome Buildings, And Railway Depots, Rising As It
Does on the barren
coast of the sterile State of Maine, fully bears out the first part of an
assertion
Which I had already heard made by Americans, "We're a great
people, the greatest nation on the face of the earth." A polite custom-
house officer asked me if I had anything contraband in my trunks, and on
my reply in the negative they were permitted to pass without even the
formality of being uncorded. "Enlightened citizens" they are truly, I
thought, and, with the pleasant consciousness of being in a perfectly free
country, where every one can do as he pleases, I entered an hotel near the
water and sat down in the ladies' parlour. I had not tasted food for
twenty-five hours, my clothes were cold and wet, a severe cut was on my
temple, and I felt thoroughly exhausted. These circumstances, I thought,
justified me in ringing the bell and asking for a glass of wine. Visions
of the agreeable refreshment which would be produced by the juice of the
grape appeared simultaneously with the waiter. I made the request, and he
brusquely replied, "You can't have it, it's contrary to law." In my
half-drowned and faint condition the refusal appeared tantamount to
positive cruelty, and I remembered that I had come in contact with the
celebrated "Maine Law." That the inhabitants of the State of Maine are
not "free" was thus placed practically before me at once.
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