"Ere the cry could go aft Steelkilt was shaking one of the backstays
leading far aloft to where two of his comrades were standing
their mastheads. They were both Canallers.
"'Canallers!' cried Don Pedro. 'We have seen many whaleships
in our harbors, but never heard of your Canallers. Pardon: who and
what are they?'
"'Canallers, Don, are the boatmen belonging to our grand
Erie Canal. You must have heard of it.'
"'Nay, Senor; hereabouts in this dull, warm, most lazy,
and hereditary land, we know but little of your vigorous North.'
"'Aye? Well then, Don, refill my cup. Your chicha's very fine;
and ere proceeding further I will tell ye what our Canallers are;
for such information may throw side-light upon my story.'
"For three hundred and sixty miles, gentlemen, through the entire breadth
of the state of New York; through numerous populous cities and most
thriving villages; through long, dismal, uninhabited swamps, and affluent,
cultivated fields, unrivalled for fertility; by billiard-room
and bar-room; through the holy-of-holies of great forests; on Roman arches
over Indian rivers; through sun and shade; by happy hearts or broken;
through all the wide contrasting scenery of those noble Mohawk counties;
and especially, by rows of snow-white chapels, whose spires stand
almost like milestones, flows one continual stream of Venetianly
corrupt and often lawless life.
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