England, he had had words with her, and almost come to hands and blows,
and it did come to that twelve years afterwards.

But poor creeter! I never felt like makin' light of his reverses, for do
not we, poor mortals! have to face our Waterloo some time durin' our
lives, when we have fought the battle and lost, when the ground is
covered with slain Hopes, Ambition, Happiness, when the music is
stilled, the stringed instruments and drums broken to pieces, or givin'
out only wailin' accompaniments to the groans and cries of the dyin'
layin' low in the dust.

We marched onward in the mornin' mebby with flyin' colors towards
Victory, with gaily flutterin' banners and glorious music. Then come the
Inevitable to crush us, and though we might not be doomed to a desert
island in body, yet our souls dwell there for quite a spell.

Till mebby we learn to pick up what is left of value on the lost field,
try to mend the old instruments that never sound as they did before. Sew
with tremblin' fingers the rents in the old tattered banners which Hope
never carries agin with so high a head, and fall into the ranks and
march forward with slower, more weary steps and our sad eyes bent toward
the settin' sun.

But to stop eppisodin' and resoom. I had hearn all about how it wuz
bought and how like every new discovery, or man or woman worth while,
the Purchase had to meet opposition and ridicule, though some prophetic
souls, like Thomas Jefferson, Mr. Livingstone and others, seemed to look
forward through the mists of the future and see fertile fields and
stately cities filled with crowds of prosperous citizens, where wuz then
almost impassable swamps and forests inhabited by whoopin' savages.