In what I have here said I do not intend to speak of hotels in the
largest cities, such as Boston or New York. At them meals are
served in the public room separately, and pretty nearly at any or
at all hours of the day; but at them also the attendant stands over
the unfortunate eater and drives him. The guest feels that he is
controlled by laws adapted to the usages of the Medes and Persians.
He is not the master on the occasion, but the slave--a slave well
treated, and fattened up to the full endurance of humanity, but yet
a slave.

From Gorham we went on to Island Pond, a station on the same Canada
Trunk Railway, on a Saturday evening, and were forced by the
circumstances of the line to pass a melancholy Sunday at the place.
The cars do not run on Sundays, and run but once a day on other
days over the whole line, so that, in fact, the impediment to
traveling spreads over two days. Island Pond is a lake with an
island in it; and the place which has taken the name is a small
village, about ten years old, standing in the midst of uncut
forests, and has been created by the railway. In ten years more
there will no doubt be a spreading town at Island Pond; the forests
will recede; and men, rushing out from the crowded cities, will
find here food, and space, and wealth. For myself, I never remain
long in such a spot without feeling thankful that it has not been
my mission to be a pioneer of civilization.

The farther that I got away from Boston the less strong did I find
the feeling of anger against England. There, as I have said
before, there was a bitter animosity against the mother country in
that she had shown no open sympathy with the North. In Maine and