“And you had rather go through all that than come comfortably in the summer time, with a fair wind, in a good boat?”
“Yes, father; we had a first-rate time. I can tell you they are going ahead in Portland, building vessels at a great rate. Congress has granted money to finish the light on Portland Head, and it’s almost done.”
“They’ve got wagons and sleighs there,” said Charlie. “They don’t ride altogether on horseback as they do here. In one of these wagons a farmer can carry a whole ox, or three or four calves; carry a barrel of molasses, and two folks ride besides; or eight or ten bushels of potatoes, and whole firkins of butter. They don’t have to carry a little, stuck in saddle-bags.”
“I should be afraid they would upset,” said Mrs. Rhines.
“Father, they’ve got the biggest ox-wagons, that haul monstrous loads of boards, and the wheels have iron hoops on the rims. Our wheels are all wood.”
“You can’t expect such things, John, in new places. Portland is an old-settled place.”
“They’ve got a wagon with two horses, that carries the mails and passengers to Portsmouth, to meet the Boston stage. They’ve got chaises, lots of them. All the ministers have them; and there’s a man, just come there from Newburyport, that’s going to make chaises.”
“Captain Rhines,” said Charlie, “there are big Spanish and English ships come there after spars.”
“It must be a great place,” said Mary.
“I guess it is. Everybody that lives there says it can’t help being a great place. They are expecting it will be an awful big place; and there’s a company getting up to build a wharf clear to the channel,—O, I don’t dare to tell how long!—with stores on it. They’re going to call it Union Wharf.”