goat-herder in Uruguay who won a prize in a Battle Creek breakfast food
puzzle competition. I pay rent on a room in Cairo, Egypt, and another
in Yokohama all the year around. I've got slippers waiting for me in a
tea-house in Shanghai, and I don't have to tell 'em how to cook my eggs
in Rio de Janeiro or Seattle. It's a mighty little old world. What's the
use of bragging about being from the North, or the South, or the old
manor house in the dale, or Euclid avenue, Cleveland, or Pike's Peak, or
Fairfax County, Va., or Hooligan's Flats or any place? It'll be a better
world when we quit being fools about some mildewed town or ten acres of
swampland just because we happened to be born there."

"You seem to be a genuine cosmopolite," I said admiringly. "But it also
seems that you would decry patriotism."

"A relic of the stone age," declared Coglan, warmly. "We are all
brothers--Chinamen, Englishmen, Zulus, Patagonians and the people in the
bend of the Kaw River. Some day all this petty pride in one's city or
State or section or country will be wiped out, and we'll all be citizens
of the world, as we ought to be."

"But while you are wandering in foreign lands," I persisted, "do not
your thoughts revert to some spot--some dear and--"

"Nary a spot," interrupted E. R. Coglan, flippantly. "The terrestrial,
globular, planetary hunk of matter, slightly flattened at the poles, and
known as the Earth, is my abode. I've met a good many object-bound
citizens of this country abroad. I've seen men from Chicago sit in a
gondola in Venice on a moonlight night and brag about their drainage
canal. I've seen a Southerner on being introduced to the King of England
hand that monarch, without batting his eyes, the information that