The Portland daily press., 1891-08-24
He Thinks Portland Is Not Boston.

Is we'll to let the wind blow through it In
some meditative wild before attempting to
air it in print, but, just the same, on an i'm
pulse, would like to present personal ex-
perience, which doesn't make me feel
harmonious and, believe. has real point
In 1t. Last Saturday was muggier than a
barber shop when, with three ladies and an
infant. l left Boston to connect, at o'clock,
with the International steamer going east
Saturday night from Portland. The train
was so crowded many could not get seats and
as we had great quantity of small traps,
including the baby, we did not get cooled off
before the train stopped in the middle of a
blueberry patch south Of Portland. 1t had
been there fully three POSSIBLY five) minutes
When a weak-voiced train hand passed
through the car muttering something about
Commercial street. / knew Commercial
street was near the steamer wharf, so /
stopped him and begged to know if the pas
sengers were to understand that the next
stop would be made there.
why, you want to get right out and
change cars here If you want to go to Com:
mercial street." he said.
There was no platform there, so we were
unceremoniously dropped fully three feet
into the gravelly road bed. and our heavy
hand baggage was almost pitched on top of
us.
where do we go? must we walk far?"
we asked.
Straight up the track till you get to the
next train?" was the clipper response and
the train man hardlyEstopped whistling as he
said 1t.
Just then another train man called out to
the first that the train would make another
stop for the Commercial street pass engers.
Come, jump in here again-look alive!'
This was addressed to us, and our arms were
almost jerked from their sockets as, bags
and traps In hand, we were derricked upon
the steps of the car again. Once more thrown
out, we were piled into another car-this
one small and stnfy-and soon rolled into
the Commercial street station. Again
no one appeared to tell us where to go, and
we picked out the directions from loungers
in the station The International boat was
detained by the storm, had not yet reached
for several hours. and we fell once more up
on an apathetic world. No one, official or
otherwise, took the least trouble to impart
information. Seeing a cabman with "Preble
head / engaged him to drive us to that estab-
lishment for supper. He did so, and charged
us two dollars, which the hotel clerk assured
me was quite the proper thing. Now the
Boston Cab Company has many times driven
myself and a party Of friends four times as
far In a carriage forty times more comfoIta-
BILE and respectable looking for as small a
sum of money, and with a driver twice as
we'll dressed and twenty times more polite.
felt that had been ''gouged" and ventured
to say so, which only made me
ugly and personally disagreeabie to
myself all the rest of the evening. am
really very amiable person, even being adj
dicted to the tipping habit In hotels and else
where, and know was not courteously or
considerably treated from the time / came
within sight of Portland until left 1t again.
1 have been In good many cities without
experiencing this bitter feeling, or without
being provoked into writing grievance. 1t
strikes me that the way of the travellers In
adversely might have been made pleasant by
those slight personal attentions and verbal
courtesies which am sure the visitor to Bos-
ton usually encounters and gives ear to.
Have right to infer that the Portland people
live In too cold a climate to be agreeable to
polite strangers? Have l right TO infer
that the city government of Portland licenses
cabmen to g0uge strangers? Anyway, Is 1t
not true that some of the people-more here
than elsewhere-are neglectful of those little
unstudied courtesies which. after all, make
life worth living, even If your journey Is full
of delay and disappointment.
S. A. WETMoRE.
Preble House, August %, 1891.