But little matters it to him, the Nation’s love or the Nation’s blame, restin’ there by the calm waters he loved. The tides come in, and the tides go out; jest as they did in his life; the fickle tide of public favor that swept by him, movin’ him not on his heavenly mission of duty and patriotism.
The tides go out, and the tides come in; the wind wails and the wind sings its sweet summer songs; but he does not mind the melody or the clamor. He is resting. Sleep on, Hero beloved, while the world wakes to praise thee.
Wall, we sot sail from Mount McGregor about half-past four P. M., afternoon. And we wound round and round the mountain side jest as he did, only goin’ down into the valley instid of upwards. But the trees that clothed the bare back of the mountain looked green and shinin’ in the late afternoon sunlight, and the fields spread out in the valley looked green and peaceful under the cool shadows of approachin’ sunset.
And right in the midst of one of these fields, all full of white daisies, the cars stopped and the conductor sung out: “Five minutes’ stop at Daisy station. Five minutes to get out and pick daisies.”
And sez Josiah to me in gruff axents, when I asked him if he wuz goin’ to get out and pick some. Sez he, “Samantha, no man can go ahead of me in hatin’ the dumb weeds, and doin’ his best towards uprootin’ ’em in my own land; and I deeply sympathize with any man who is over run by ’em. But why am I beholdin’ to the man that owns this lot? Why should I and all the rest of this carload of folks, all dressed up in our best too, lay hold and weed out these infernal nuisances for nothin’?”
Yes, he said these fearfully profane words to me and I herd him in silence, for I did not want to make a seen in public. Sez I, “Josiah, they are pickin’ ’em because they love ’em.”
“Love ’em!” Oh, the fearful, scornful unbelievin’ look that came over my pardner’s face, as I said these peaceful words to him. And he added a expletive which I am fur from bein’ urged to ever repeat. It wuz sinful.
“Love ’em!” Agin he sez. And agin follerd a expletive that wuz still more forcible, and still more sinful. And I felt obliged to check him which I did. And after a long parlay, in which I used my best endeavors of argument and reason to convince him that I wuz in the right on’t, I see he wuzn’t convinced. And then I spoke about its bein’ fashionable to get out and pick ’em, and he looked different to once. I could see a change in him. All my arguments of the beauty and sweetness of the posies had no effect, but when I said fashionable, he faltered, and he sez, “Is it called a genteel diversion?”
And I sez, “Yes.”
And finally he sez, “Wall, I s’pose I can go out and pick some for you. Dumb their dumb picters.”