"That is far different, Josiah Allen," sez I, "there is nothin'
there that can git hurt, only stumps. And you have never laid
out a cent of money on it. And they have spent thousands and
thousands of dollars; and the poorest little child in Saratoga,
if it has beauty-lovin' eyes, can go in and enjoy these places
jest as much as the owners can. And it is a sweet thought to me,
Josiah Allen."

"Oh wall," sez he, "you have probable said enough about it."

Now I never care for the last word, some wimmen do, but I never
do. But still I wuzn't goih' to be shet right eff from talkin'
about these places, and I intimated as much to him, and he said,
"Dumb it all! I could talk about 'em all day, if I wanted to,
and about Demorist's Woods too."

"Wall," sez I, "that is another place, Josiah Allen, that is a
likely well-meanin' spot. Middlin' curius to look at," sez I,
reesonably. "It makes one's head feel sort a strange to see them
criss-cross, curius poles, and floors up in trees, and ladders,
and teterin' boards, and springs, etc., etc., etc. But it is a
well-meanin' spot, Josiah Allen. And it highly tickled me to
think that the little fresh air children wuz brung up there by
the owner of the woods and the poor little creeters, out of their
dingy dirty homes, and filthy air, wandered round for one happy
day in the green woods, in the fresh air and sunshine. That wuz
a likely thing to do, Josiah Allen, and it raises a man more in
my estimation when he's doin' sech things as that, than to set up
in a political high chair, and have a lot of dirty hands clapped,