And so he did, and he sailed, and he sailed—and mebby his own brave heart grew sick and faint with lookin' on the trackless waste of waters round him, and no shore in sight for days, and for days, and for days.
But if it did, he give no signs of it—"I sail onward!" he sez.
And finally the lookout way up on the dizzy mast see a light way off on the horizon, and then the night came down dark, and when the sun wuz riz up—lo! right before 'em lay the shores of the New World. And the Man's and the Woman's belief wuz proved true—and the gainsayin' World wuz proved wrong. Success had come to 'em.
And after the doubt, and the danger, and the despair, and the discouragement had all been endured—after the ideal had been made real, why then it wuz considered quite easy to discover a New World.
It wuzn't considered very hard. Why, all you had to do wuz to sail on till you come to it.
After a thing is done it is easy enough.
Nowadays we are sot down before as great conundrums as Columbus wuz. The Old World groans under old abuses, and wrongs, and injustices. The old paths are dusty and worn with the feet of them who have marked its rocks and chokin' sands with their bleedin' feet, as they toiled on over 'em bearin' their crosses.
Dark clouds hang heavy over their paths—the atmosphere is chokin' and stiflin'.
Fur off, fresh and fair, lays the New Land of our ideal. The realm of peace, and justice to all, of temperance, and sanity, and love and joy.
Fur off, fur off, we hear the melodious swash of its waves on its green banks—we see fur off the gleam of its white, glory-lit mountain-tops.