American Curiosity — 563
“You’re from down East, I guess?” said a sharp, nasal voice behind me. This was a supposition first made in the Portland cars, when I was at a loss to know what distinguishing and palpable peculiarity marked me as a “down-easter.” Better informed now, I replied, “I am.”—“Going West?” “Yes.”—“Travelling alone?” “No.”—“Was you raised down East?” “No, in the Old Country.”—“In the little old island? Well, you’re kinder glad to leave it, I guess? Are you a widow?” “No.”—“Are you travelling on business?” “No.”—“What business do you follow?” “None.”—“Well, now, what are you travelling for?” “Health and pleasure.”—“Well, now, I guess you’re pretty considerable rich. Coming to settle out West, I suppose?” “No, I’m going back at the end of the fall.”—“Well, now, if that’s not a pretty tough hickory-nut! I guess you Britishers are the queerest critturs as ever was raised!”