St. Paul daily globe., 1884-08-02

It's masonry approaches is a mile and three
quarters in length and cost seven million
dollars As the train shot into one of the
tubes was once more on my way to the land
of the pilgrims.
| DELIGHTFUL SCENERY.
| once more to bed, this time on Canadian
soil, with the pleasant dream OF awaking in
the United States. had heard much of the
beauties OF the scenery from Montreal to
Boston via the South Eastern. Passumpsic
and Boston, Concord q Montreal railways,
but 1 never fully realized before what
it actually was. To be fully appreei.
ated the entire trip should be made bv dav.
| light. 1t was few minutes past a. IN.
when 1 drew aside my slceping-car curtains
to view the landscape DER. The ''grev dawn
was breaking" and the scene was positively
inspiring. do not know that any higher
tribute can be paid to scenery than the fact
that half rested and sleepy individual arises
between three and four o'clock in the morn
ing to see the country. Twas that individual,
and L felt amply repaid for cutting short my
rest and sleep. The track lay along
the bank of the Merrimac river
and in the distance, on the other side, the
White mountains of New Hampshire loomed
up. 1t has not been unusual for me to sec
the sun rise in Minnesota, but l accomplish
that feat by remaining up until the orb ofday
has gotten rested and started in for a new
heat, but you need to visit the White noun
tain region if you want to see half dozen
r;s nd no
all the time. At first the sun shone out full
and brilliant as though it had started in for a
full days duty, but as the train whirled
along by the bank of the beautiful river
shimmering in the early sunlight,
mountain would intervene, shutting
out the rays entirely. and in few
minutes valley between the mountains
would supply another sunrise as new and
fresh as though it was the first appearance Of
that luminary upon any stage. Again it
would be concealed, and again, like truth
crushed to earth, would rise again, until L
was bewildered with the mixture of
river, mountain and sunrises, and almost
began to think that by some optical illusion
or delusion I was seeing affairs sextupule.
1t was a scene worthy of fairy land.
The farms through this Merimac valley
look old but reasonably thrifty, and the New
England cobble stone fence is a conspicuous
feature. They had to pick up the boulders in
order to plow, and having no place to put
them they used them for fences. Their
fields and meadows were small and ten-acre
lot was an exception. Perhaps no better
evidence was seen of the small scale farm
ing than one little field where shocks of
wheat or barley were covered with cloth to
keep off the dew. Imagine such an attempt
on western farm. A farmer would need
to run cotton mill to keep his wheat under
cover
The morning air was clear and sharp,
and, as Istepped off the cars to say good
morning to the capital of New Hamp-
shire, 1 wished the sun had
risen half dozen more times to warm
things up My 5 a. m. welcome to Concord
was reciprocated by newsboy, who supplied
me with a Monitor, which found flying the
Blaine and Logan flag, and also announcing
the death in that city the previous day of ex-
Gov. Hartman, one of the prominent men
of New England. At Manchester, n. H.,
few miles further on, the Union greeted me
with the Cleveland and Hendricks flag, and
the Amoskeag print cotton and other mills
loomed up in massive brick buildings look.
ing as fresh as though built but yesterday,
and all the surroundings as clean as though
a cholera scare had caused extra precaution.
Lowell, Massachusetts,, the home of the
spindle and Ben Butler, was next on the
docket, and here | obtained the morning
Times with Cleveland and Hendricks at its
mast head This was certainly ominous
Here in puritan New England, the supposed
solid home Of the Republican party,
two out of the three first papers
encountered were supporting the Democratic
ticket looked for Ben at the Lowell depot,
and I have no doubt he regretted nc was not
there, but an early train had taken him to
Boston on his way to Portsmouth to obtain
evidence in murder trial, and thus he lost
the opportunity of life time.
From Lowell to Boston it is
almost continual city, and We
whisked passed stations innumcrabe,
drawing up at 80 Saturday morning in the
spacious Boston a. Lowell depot ! was glad
the journey was at an end, ana the reader,
if any, who has followed my rigmarolc, will
undoubtedly share the same sentiment The
excuse for prolixity must be found in the
fact that the reader has mentally Travelled
1881 miles in joining me on my trip from
St. Paul to Boston. ii. Z. H.