14000 MILES 



we rested at noon. We took note of a singular advertise- 

 ment over a watering-trough ; "An Open Secret, that 



sells Furniture, Burial Caskets, and Shrouds at Lowest 

 Prices." 



Hampden was next and last. Unless we found a place 

 there we must go to Bangor. The last part of the drive 

 was very lovely, and we began to wonder what Hampden 

 had in store for us. The main street, with most of the 

 houses facing the river, was very pleasant for a mile 

 before we came to a forlorn-looking old building with a 

 faded sign, "Hampden House," over the door. We passed 

 by, hoping to find a more attractive place, but no — that 

 was the only hotel in Hampden. We recalled our delight- 

 ful experiences in hotels with dilapidated exterior, both 

 in Canada and the States, and retraced our way to the 

 Hampden House, though with some misgivings we con- 

 fess. A very pleasant woman met us at the door, which 

 is always a good omen, and sent her little girl to call her 

 father to take the horse. He came leisurely along from 

 the stable, and when we asked him if we and our horse 

 could be cared for, he answered, 'T don't know any 

 reason why you can't." To our question, "will all these 

 things be safe in the phaeton?" he as dryly answered, 

 "This carriage may be stolen tonight — never has been 

 one taken." His words were few, but his manner was 

 reassuring, and we already felt at home. 



The floor looked old, and the stairs were well worn, but 

 when we and our bags were deposited in the upper front 

 room, we looked about and exclaimed, "This is just one 

 of our places for a Sunday rest !" — rag mats, high bed 

 where you are sure to sink low in feathers, and a purely 



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