I Visited The Little Towns Of Lexington And Frankfort, In Kentucky.
At The Former I Found In The Hotel To Which I Went Seventy-Five
Teamsters Belonging To The Army.
They were hanging about the great
hall when I entered, and clustering round the stove in the middle of
the chamber; a dirty, rough, quaint set of men, clothed in a
wonderful variety of garbs, but not disorderly or loud.
The
landlord apologized for their presence, alleging that other
accommodation could not be found for them in the town. He received,
he said, a dollar a day for feeding them, and for supplying them
with a place in which they could lie down. It did not pay him, but
what could he do? Such an apology from an American landlord was in
itself a surprising fact. Such high functionaries are, as a rule,
men inclined to tell a traveler that if he does not like the guests
among whom he finds himself, he may go elsewhere. But this landlord
had as yet filled the place for not more than two or three weeks,
and was unused to the dignity of his position. While I was at
supper, the seventy-five teamsters were summoned into the common
eating-room by a loud gong, and sat down to their meal at the public
table. They were very dirty; I doubt whether I ever saw dirtier
men; but they were orderly and well behaved, and but for their
extreme dirt might have passed as the ordinary occupants of a well-
filled hotel in the West.
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