Reseña del editor:
Excerpt from A Journey Through Wonderland: Or the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, With a Description of the Country Traversed by the Northern Pacific Railroad
The only time that I care to read a novel is when I am very busy, and ought not to. When I have nothing else to do, I lose all interest in it. In the present case, I was interested in watching the many changes that Miss Dinsmore's face was capable of taking to itself in a few moments. I had the imper'tinence' to wonder where she was going, and why, and how it chanced that' she was alone. Meanwhile, the conductor sat down beside me, and talked to me about Brainerd, which we were now rapidly approaching. I gathered from the conversation that the car-shops of the Northern Pacific were at Brainerd, and the machine shops, and the boiler-shops, and a great many other places of the same sort, and that the railroad has a sanitarium there, where my conductor was taken care of, in a way that he praised at great length, on the occasion of a long illness. I had just entered in my note-book the fact that Brainerd had a population of and that she had a most satisfactory court-house and jail, erected at a cost of when we reached the station, and Miss Dinsmore and my corduroy friend plunged out into the night and upon the platform.
I considered that I already had cause for feeling aggrieved, but when my statistical young lumberman entered at this moment, I made up my mind that the good luck which I had always firmly considered my own had deserted me. No sooner did this painfully accurate young man perceive me, than he advanced with outstretched hand.
How are you, Mr. Miller I said, stiffly. The reply was of a different sort.
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This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
Reseña del editor:
Excerpt from A Journey Through Wonderland: Or the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, With a Description of the Country Traversed by the Northern Pacific Railroad
It was the merest chance that took me westward. 1 had never previously been 500 miles from New York - except, of course, to Europe. Everyone goes to Europe. The chance that made me journey westward was a business one; but other than business reasons made me glad to go.
"If you ever get an ache of the heart," said a young Frenchman whom I once met, "take a long journey. Visit the Indian Ocean, for instance. There, wrapped in a pajama, one lies on deck at night, watching the swaying of the masthead and the twinkling of the stars - the languorous stars of those latitudes Time, space, and peace are all there is left of life, and the bitterness and weariness melt away from one, and seem to become a part of the mists in the blue distance. Take my word for it, there is nothing like a voyage 011 some solitary sea to cure the heartache."
Thus, when it came about that business took me to Duluth, to Winnipeg, and St. Paul, I concluded to go farther-across the plains, the mountains, and to Alaska. I substituted Alaska for the Indian seas. Alaska, I confess, seemed a very long way off, for I had not, at that time, learned that distance is no actual quantity, but is determined only by the convenience or inconvenience that attends a journey. When I left my native city, however, the words "Duluth" and "Winnipeg" were without significance to me, and even St. Paul meant little enough.
The first two days are indistinct in my mind. There arc circumstances under which a man can not enjoy even a Niagara. I could not hear its roar for the cooing of newly-married lovers, and considering n recent experience of mine, I naturally felt irritated. A few long days on the lakes followed, and I got a certain comfort out of them. It is true that I did not lie wrapped in my pajama while fanned by tropical and perfumed breezes. There were no tropical breezes, for one thing, and I had no pajama. As the oxygen got into my lungs, the morbidity went out of my soul, and I should have been almost happy but for a young lumberman on board, lie was a good-natured young man - indeed, he was too good-natured, for lie never looked at me without smiling.
About the Publisher
Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com
This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
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