“What is it compared to our own Thousand Islands? Why, nothing at all. Our own St. Lawrence would take in the whole of Lake Maggiore at one mouthful, and not know the difference.”
Sez I, “Martin, don’t run down the beauty of another country a-praisin’ up your own.”
“Well,” sez he, “do you find such perfection here as in our own country?”
Sez I reminescently, “I find better telegraph poles.” Sez I, “Think of the clear granite shafts, good enough for monuments, and then think of the humbly, crooked wooden poles that disfigger our American landscape.”
“Well,” sez he, “you don’t often find them here.”
Josiah sed if I wuz so bent on havin’ stun telegraph poles, he and Ury could build up one out of loose stuns in front of the house. Sez he, “We might make it sort of a monument shape, and Ury might kinder block out my figger on top.”
Sez I, “I guess it would be a work of art if Ury did it.”
“Wall,” sez he, “I might have a tin-type or sunthin’ fixed on, or a lock of my hair. It would be real uneek, and my fellow-townsmen would think the world on’t.”
Mebby he’ll forgit the idee, and mebby I’ll see trouble out on’t yet.
Wall, in Milan our first move wuz, of course, to see the cathedral. I’d seen so many picters on’t that it looked as familar as Betsey Bobbettses liniment, only fur grander and more impressive lookin’.