"And have you been there?"
"To Massachusetts? Yes, many a time."
"Let me take your hand, stranger. My mother was from the Bay State, and brought me here when I was an infant. I have heard her speak of it. Oh, it must be a lovely land! I wish I could see a meeting-house and a school-house, for she is always talking about them. And the sea—the sea—oh, if I could see that! Did you ever see it, stranger?"
"Yes, often."
"What, the real, salt sea—the ocean—with the ships upon it?"
"Yes."
"Well," said the youth, scarcely able to suppress his emotion, "if I could see the old Bay State and the ocean, I should be willing then to die!"
In another instance the traveller met, somewhere in the valley of the Scioto, a man from Hartford, by the name of Bull. He was a severe democrat, and feeling sorely oppressed with the idea that he was no better off in Connecticut under federalism than the Hebrews in Egypt, joined the throng and migrated to Ohio. He was a man of substance, but his wealth was of little avail in a new country, where all the comforts and luxuries of civilization were unknown.
"When I left Connecticut," said he, "I was wretched from thinking of the sins of federalism. After I had got across Byram river, which divides that State from New York, I knelt down and thanked the Lord for that He had brought me and mine out of such a priest-ridden land. But I've been well punished, and I'm now preparing to return; when I again cross Byram river, I shall thank God that He has permitted me to get back again!"