Regiments of red-coats, with torches and band, - aware
doubtless of the presence of such distinguished strangers, - march past
our hotel in the evening.
Though we are quartered in what is called the best hotel, it is a musty,
fusty, rusty old building; and we agree with our friends among the
residents (who vie with each other in showing us true English
hospitality) who say they need an enterprising Yankee to start a good
new hostelry, and "to show 'em how to run it."
Just at this time of year the city is full of summer tourists, many of
whom come direct from Baltimore by the ocean steamships, which touch at
this port; but, as we are subject to mal-de-mer's tortures, we rejoice
that we came by "overland route".
Though our friends have engaged rooms for us beforehand, we are
fortunate in securing apartments on the fourth floor, where peculiar
coils of rope by the windows at once attract our attention. These, on
examination, we find have big wooden beads (like the floats of a seine)
strung on them at regular intervals; and this peculiar arrangement is a
primitive fire escape, which we are positive that no creature but a
monkey could use with safety.
