There Are In
All Four Outlets To The Sea, One Of Which Appears To Have Been Made
Expressly For The Great Eastern.
Then there is the hill looking
inward.
If it has a name, I forget it. The view from this hill is
also over the water on each side, and, though not so extensive, is
perhaps as pleasing as the other.
The ways of the people seemed to be quiet, smooth, orderly, and
republican. There is nothing to drink in Portland, of course; for,
thanks to Mr. Neal Dow, the Father Matthew of the State of Maine,
the Maine liquor law is still in force in that State. There is
nothing to drink, I should say, in such orderly houses as that I
selected. "People do drink some in the town, they say," said my
hostess to me, "and liquor is to be got. But I never venture to
sell any. An ill-natured person might turn on me; and where should
I be then?" I did not press her, and she was good enough to put a
bottle of porter at my right hand at dinner, for which I observed
she made no charge. "But they advertise beer in the shop windows,"
I said to a man who was driving me - "Scotch ale and bitter beer. A
man can get drunk on them." "Waal, yes. If he goes to work hard,
and drinks a bucketful," said the driver, "perhaps he may." From
which and other things I gathered that the men of Maine drank
pottle deep before Mr. Neal Dow brought his exertions to a
successful termination.
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