Very abruptly he said:
"You came over on the boat; what kind of a land is it over across the
river?"
"It is very pleasant in the country," I replied.
"Is it a land of pure delight, where saints immortal reign?"
Having just come from New Jersey where the infamous race track, and the
more infamous rum-traffic legalized by law, would sink the whole State
in the Atlantic Ocean, if it were not that it had a life preserver in
Ocean Grove, I was hardly prepared to vouch for it being that kind of a
land.
"Why do you ask that?" I said.
"Because I hear Jessie sing about it so much, and when I asked her
about it, she said it's a land where there's green fields, and flowers
that don't wither, and rivers of delight, and where the sun always
shines, and she wants to go there so much. I hasn't told anybody about
it before, but I eats as little as I can and gets along with these
clothes what made you laugh at me, and I'm saving up my money to take
Jessie to that land of pure delight just as soon as I gets enough.
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