Hanover, New Hampshire

Timezone: UTC-4.

Montréal seems bland at first, but I will double-check tomorrow. At last I could employ the half a dozen of French words known to me. And maybe learn a few more?

Here I sit in a most uninteresting little hole on the borders of the United States and Canada; in a place where there is nothing to do, nothing to see, and very little to eat, as I have already found out by the meagre bill of fare in the rustic restaurant next door. For the last half hour I have been talking to a Canadian who, like me, has to wait several hours for a train. It came very nearly to a quarrel between us two, for he hates the Americans and I, as you know, love them. He left the waiting-room a few minutes ago, and I suppose that he will not comeback again. If he does, I shall make him understand that I am otherwise engaged, for I do not like to talk to people with whom I can never agree.
[…]
My Canadian came back long ago; he is reading a paper and has brought me one, too. That was rather thoughtful, and I think I will let him talk to me again. Perhaps if I can lead him away from America to a subject more pleasing to an Englishman, we might find some point, upon which we can agree. Suppose I try the Boer war. Yes, that might do. Good-by.
Lina Bögli, “Forward. Letters Written on a Trip Around the World”