He had decided not to build another home in the soil guarded by the American eagle.
He knew the fowl to be largely boasted about as bein’ the first and noblest bird beneath the skies. But he felt that he had been pecked by its too sharp bill, he had been clawed by its talons, he had been wearied by its loud, boastin’, resonant voice.
No, he would make no more homes under the skies where that eagle built its nest.
He wuz ready for a newer republic.
He felt that he would ruther dare the soft embraces of the biggest African serpents than be enfolded about by our beneficent civilization.
He wuz embittered, that wuz a fact. But when we see what he had gone through, I don’t know as anybody could blame him.
But anyway, he wuz ready to go.
And so the days rolled by one after another, as they always will, whether you are gay or sorrowful, whether the hours seem weighted down with lead or tipped with fleet sunbeams.
And to Genieve and Victor all sadness and shadows lay fur away like a faint cloud in the horizon, almost unseen and forgotten in the clear sunshine of their happiness. For true love will make happiness everywhere. Everything looked prosperous, and I had got my edgin’ done, and Maggie and I had made the nice linen garments and ornimented ’em with the lace.
They looked beautiful.