Oh, my Sainted Country! Go ahead, Wilton."

"I wrote 'em that I'd be very happy to see their president and explain to him in three words all about it; but that wouldn't do. 'Seems their president must be a god. He was too busy, and - well, you can read for yourself - they wanted explanations. The stationmaster at Amberley Royal - and he grovels before me, as a rule - wanted an explanation, and quick, too. The head sachem at St. Botolph's wanted three or four, and the Lord High Mukkamuk that oils the locomotives wanted one every fine day. I told 'em - I've told hem about fifty times - I stopped their holy and sacred train because I wanted to board her. Did they think I wanted to feel her pulse?"