36 SPOKT IN NORTH A:\IErvICA. 



of a breakfast. Without wishing too raucli harm 

 to the directors, I must say that the railway from 

 Troy to Whitehall is one of the worst managed lines 

 that ever made a traveller uncomfortable. It is true 

 that they send to fetch you from the very door of 

 your hotel, but the time thus saved is amply re- 

 purchased by the carelessness Avith which your 

 luggage is packed, and the utter want of caution, 

 manifested throughout. When you arrive at your 

 destination, you must scramble for your goods and 

 chattels, or have the satisfaction of seeing them 

 carried away to the next station, or (worse still !) 

 whipt off by one of those industrious gentry against 

 whom you are constantly put on your guard by the 

 official notice — "Beware of pickpockets.-" 



However, when at Kome you must do as Rome 

 does. We start for Saratoga, and the train, plunging 

 through an immense covered bridge which crosses 

 the Hudson, bounds across three arms of the 

 Mohawk river successively. After that, the country 

 assumes a new aspect, which it preserves throughout 

 the remainder of the journey. Man has no longer 

 entire possession of the vast domain. Fragments of 

 forest still remain standing, and half-finished clearings 

 alternate with land carefully cultivated. Occasionally, 

 we pass a valley which contains a sprinkling of white 

 houses, and on the approach to Saratoga a vast and 

 lively panorama displays itself before you to the 

 right. Then the train stops, casts you forth bag and 



