man ought to want:  air, sir, that aint to be got better nowhere; trout, chickens, beef, mutton, milk—­and all for a dollar a day!  A-top of that hill, sir, there’s a view that aint to be beaten this side of the Atlantic, or I believe the other.  And an echo, sir!—­we’ve an echo that comes back to us six times, sir; floating on the light wind, and wafted about from rock to rock, till you would think the angels were talking to you.  If I could raise that echo, sir, every day at command, I’d give a thousand dollars for it.  It would be worth all the money to a house like this.”  And he waved his hand about from hill to hill, pointing out in graceful curves the lines which the sounds would take.  Had destiny not called on Mr. Plaistead to keep an American hotel, he might have been a poet.

My traveler, however, unless time were plenty with him, would pass Mr. Plaistead, merely lighting a friendly cigar, or perhaps breaking the Maine liquor law if the weather be warm, and would return to Gorham on the railway.  All this mountain district is in New Hampshire; and, presuming him to be capable of going about the world with his mouth, ears, and eyes open, he would learn much of the way in which men are settling themselves in this still sparsely-populated country.  Here young farmers go into the woods as they are doing far down West in the Territories, and buying some hundred acres at perhaps six shillings an acre, fell and burn the trees, and build their huts, and take the first steps, as far as man’s work is concerned, toward accomplishing the will of the Creator in those regions.  For such pioneers of civilization there is still ample room even in the long-settled States of New Hampshire and Vermont.

But to return to my traveler, whom, having brought so far, I must send on.  Let him go on from Gorham to Quebec and the heights of Abraham, stopping at Sherbrooke that he might visit from thence the Lake of Memphra Magog.  As to the manner of traveling over this ground I shall say a little in the next chapter, when I come to the progress of myself and my wife.  From Quebec he will go up the St. Lawrence to Montreal.  He will visit Ottawa, the new capital, and Toronto.  He will cross the lake to Niagara, resting probably at the Clifton House on the Canada side.  He will then pass on to Albany, taking the Trenton Falls on his way.  From Albany he will go down the Hudson to West Point.  He cannot stop at the Catskill Mountains, for the hotel will be closed.  And then he will take the river boat, and in a few hours will find himself at New York.  If he desires to go into American city society, he will find New York agreeable; but in that case he must exceed his two months.  If he do not so desire, a short sojourn at New York will show him all that there is to be seen and all that there is not to be seen in that great city.  That the Cunard line of steamers will bring him safely back to Liverpool in about eleven days, I need not tell to any Englishman, or, as I believe, to any American.  So much, in the spirit of a guide, I vouchsafe to all who are willing to take my counsel—­thereby anticipating Murray, and leaving these few pages as a legacy to him or to his collaborateurs.