When Fate Puts A Man In Such A
Position And Relieves Him Of All Responsibility, With A Book And A
Good Comrade, And Liberty To Make Sarcastic Remarks Upon His
Fellow-Travelers, Or To Doze, Or To Look Over The Tranquil Sea, He May
Be Pronounced Happy.
And I believe that my companion, except in the
matter of the comrade, was happy.
But I could not resist a worrying
anxiety about the future of the British Provinces, which not even the
remembrance of their hostility to us during our mortal strife with the
Rebellion could render agreeable. For I could not but feel that the
ostentatious and unconcealable prosperity of "the States" over-shadows
this part of the continent. And it was for once in vain that I said,
"Have we not a common land and a common literature, and no copyright,
and a common pride in Shakespeare and Hannah More and Colonel Newcome
and Pepys's Diary?" I never knew this sort of consolation to fail
before; it does not seem to answer in the Provinces as well as it does
in England.
New passengers had come on board at Pictou, new and hungry, and not
all could get seats for dinner at the first table. Notwithstanding
the supposed traditionary advantage of our birthplace, we were unable
to dispatch this meal with the celerity of our fellow-voyagers, and
consequently, while we lingered over our tea, we found ourselves at
the second table. And we were rewarded by one of those pleasing
sights that go to make up the entertainment of travel.
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