The Attaché; or, Sam Slick in England — Complete by Thomas Chandler Haliburton
page 74 of 362 (20%)
page 74 of 362 (20%)
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SEEING LIVERPOOL.
On looking back to any given period of our life, we generally find that the intervening time appears much shorter than it really is. We see at once the starting-post and the terminus, and the mind takes in at one view the entire space. But this observation is more peculiarly applicable to a short passage across the Atlantic. Knowing how great the distance is, and accustomed to consider the voyage as the work of many weeks, we are so astonished at finding ourselves transported in a few days, from one continent to another, that we can hardly credit the evidence of our own senses. Who is there that on landing has not asked himself the question, "Is it possible that I am in England? It seems but as yesterday that I was in America, to-day I am in Europe. Is it a dream, or a reality?" The river and the docks--the country and the town--the people and their accent--the verdure and the climate are all new to me. I have not been prepared for this; I have not been led on imperceptibly, by travelling mile after mile by land from my own home, to accustom my senses to the gradual change of country. There has been no border to pass, where the language, the dress, the habits, and outward appearances assimilate. There has been no blending of colours--no dissolving views in the retrospect--no |
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