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XVII—In Dry Toronto
A LOCAL STUDY OF A UNIVERSAL TOPIC
Note.—Our readers—our numerous readers—who live in Equatorial Africa, may read this under the title “In Dry Timbucto”; those who live in Central America will kindly call it “In Dry Tehauntepec.”
It may have been, for aught I know, the change from a wet to a dry atmosphere. I am told that, biologically, such things profoundly affect the human system.
At any rate I found it impossible that night—I was on the train from Montreal to Toronto—to fall asleep.
A peculiar wakefulness seemed to have seized upon me, which appeared, moreover, to afflict the other passengers as well. In the darkness of the car I could distinctly hear them groaning at intervals.
“Are they ill?” I asked, through the curtains, of the porter as he passed.
“No, sir,” he said, “they’re not ill. Those is the Toronto passengers.”
“All in this car?” I asked.
“All except that gen’lman you may have
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