the prevailing tyranny of the hotel. Do not imagine-you, who have never
yet tasted the sweets of a transatlantic transaction-that this tyranny is
confined to the hotel: every person to whom you pay money in the ordinary
travelling transactions of life-your omnibus-man, your railway-conductor,
your steamboat-clerk-takes your money, it is true, but takes it in a
manner which tells you plainly enough that he is conferring a very great
favour by so doing. He is in all probability realizing a profit of from
three to four hundred-per cent. on whatever the transaction may be; but,
all the same, although you are fully aware of this fact, you are
nevertheless almost overwhelmed with the sense of the very deep
obligation which you owe to the man who thus deigns to receive your
money.

It was about ten o'clock at night when the steamer anchored at the wharf
at Boston. Not until midday. On the following day were we (the
passengers) allowed to leave the vessel. The cause of this delay arose
from the fact that the collector of customs of the port of Boston was an
individual of great social importance; and as it would have been
inconvenient for him to attend at an earlier hour for the purpose of
being present at the examination of our baggage, we were detained
prisoners until the day was far enough advanced to suit his convenience.
From a conversation which subsequently I had with this gentleman at our
hotel, I discovered that he was more obliging in his general capacity of
politician and prominent citizen than he was in his particular duties of
customs collector. Like many other instances of the kind in the United
States, his was a case of evident unfitness for the post he held. A.
socially smaller man would have made a much better customs official.
Unfortunately for the comfort of the public, the remuneration attached to
appointments in the postal and customs departments is frequently very
large, and these situations are eagerly sought as prizes in the lottery