And we
Breathing the electric air of this great West,
As rich in life as timber, herds and hops,
Wheat fields and mines, and all these things to be
Raised and translated by the brains of men.
Think of a State dotted with lumber camps
And buzzing day and night with saws and saws,
And as far as the North Pole from old world customs,
Wearing a capitol with Grecian columns
With an old Roman Justice on her comb!
You'd scorn to come here in a gaberdine
Made by some dago in the days of Pompey.
And yet you dress the State up in these things.
No independence.
Ralph Ardsley.
Governor?
First Staff Member.
Call the troops!
Egerton.
I'd rather cut the timber of this land
And coin its spirit in a thing like this
Than be a Roman Cæsar.
Ralph Ardsley.
Hip hurrah!
That's what I call a fellow countryman.
Bishop Hardbrooke.