The ride from Portland to Boston offers glimpses of many good towns and settlements, but a rail car does not afford opportunities for inspection, much less for description. From Boston to New York, via Springfield, the route should be all that a traveller could desire, but was materially marred to us by a patent ventilating car, out of order. The truly uncivil conductor declared he knew nothing about it, and seemed to have no duty to perform but to demand uncivilly his "tickets." Every person within the dismal car was rapidly covered with cinders and dust, from which there was no attempt even to deliver us, though a clean and comfortable car was attached behind, and nearly empty. The only cry was for our tickets, with a careless, nonchalant air, from Conductor Baker, who would be pleased if his conduct was represented. This was respectfully done to the President, Pond, who gave the document to Baker, to answer! and future travellers may now know what to expect in the Springfield cars, and avoid them if they choose. This was the first and last incivility and indignity in a journey of thousands of miles. We record the general attention of the railroad people with*pleasure and the contrary with regret, and without any hope of reforming this monstrous abuse.

The President resigning to his servant all answers to complaints, apparently can not wish to make a change for the better, for the advantage of his customers.