As
To Bread, I Never Tasted Bread Worth The Name, From The Time I Left
London To The Time I Returned To It.
Alike on the Cunard steamers, cars,
hotels, etc., you can get no wholemeal bread.
French and Vienna breads,
and other very white abortions of that kind are obtainable in abundance,
and even a kind of brown bread, and "Graham's" bread, but good honest
wholemeal bread, containing all the properties of the full kernel of the
wheat, it is impossible to get, and this to me was a very great
deprivation, as my principal article of food is real wholemeal
bread.
The system of the custody of letters at the large American hotels
appeared to me rather unsafe. A visitor asks for letters, whereupon
there are handed to him all the letters in the pigeon-hole marked with
the initial of which the visitor's name commences. The visitor then
proceeds to look through them, and takes what he chooses, and hands the
rest back. The official is too busy, or it is not customary for him, to
look through them for the visitor, or even to watch the visitor in his
process of selection. I noticed one gentleman with a packet of letters,
I should think considerably over a hundred, every now and then slip one
into his breast pocket and give a furtive glance, which did not inspire
confidence, but probably this is a well accustomed habit of the people,
and the letters, perhaps, are as safe as the newspapers I frequently saw
deposited on the tops of the street letter boxes (outside the boxes),
because they were too large to be put inside; of course anyone could
have taken them, but the custom not to touch them is probably honourably
recognized.
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