They have no river, and no country about 'em; let them
make a railroad to Minas Basin, and they will have arms of their own
to feed themselves with. If they don't do it, and do it soon, I guess
they'll get into a decline that no human skill will cure. They are
proper thin now; you can count their ribs e'enamost as far as you can
see them. The only thing that will either make or save Halifax, is a
railroad across the country to Bay of Fundy.
"'It will do to talk of,' says one. 'You'll see it some day,' says
another. 'Yes,' says a third, 'it will come, but we are too young
yet.'
"Our old minister had a darter, a real clever-lookin' gal as you'd
see in a day's ride, and she had two or three offers of marriage from
'sponsible men--most particular good specs--but minister always said,
'Phoebe, you are too young--the day will come--but you are too young
yet dear.' Well, Phoebe didn't think so at all; she said she guessed
she knew better nor that: so the next offer she had, she said she had
no notion to lose another chance--off she shot to Rhode Island and
got married. Says she, 'Father's too old, he don't know.' That's jist
the case at Halifax. The old folks say the country is too young, the
time will come, and so on; and in the meantime the young folks won't
wait, and run off to the States, where the maxim is, 'Youth is the
time for improvement; a new country is never too young for exertion;
push on--keep movin--go ahead.
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