In that way I got safely down. I was a little cautious, for I had on me
scars made by falling on stones and cutting myself, when near that place
long years before, when I was a little boy driving father's cows, to and
fro, night and morning, from the new place he bought, (the buying of
which was one great reason of our going to Michigan to find a new home
and live where white men had never lived before.)
I went back to uncle's and told him, that I had made him a pretty good
visit. I tried to get him and some of the rest of my friends to promise
me to go west and see our country and judge of it for themselves. They
said we western men had to bring our produce, and whatever we had to
sell, down to the New York market, in order to dispose of it. I made up
my mind, if New York was the head and mouth of Uncle Sam, that his body
and heart were in the great central West, his hands upon the treasury at
Washington and his feet were of California, like unto polished gold,
washed by the surf of the Pacific Ocean. When Uncle Sam wished them wiped
he could easily place them on his snow topped foot-stool, the Rocky
mountains, and Miss Columbia, with a smile would wipe them with the
clouds and dry them in the winds of the Nevada, while she pillowed his
head softly on the great metropolis, New York, where the Atlantic breeze
fans his brow and lets him recline in his glory, the most rapidly risen
representation of a great nation that the world has ever seen.
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