Perhaps you won't be the
homeliest of the States, after all; but when I see you comin' in
to breakfast I said to myself: 'I guess if Maine looked like
that, it would n't never 'a' been admitted into the Union!'"
When Uncle Sam and the stagecoach drew up to the brick house with
a grand swing and a flourish, the Goddess of Liberty and most of
the States were already in their places on the "harricane deck."
Words fail to describe the gallant bearing of the horses, their
headstalls gayly trimmed and their harnesses dotted with little
flags. The stage windows were hung in bunting, and from within
beamed Columbia, looking out from the bright frame as if proud of
her freight of loyal children. Patriotic streamers floated from
whip, from dash-board and from rumble, and the effect of the
whole was something to stimulate the most phlegmatic voter.
Rebecca came out on the steps and Aunt Jane brought a chair to
assist in the ascent. Miss Dearborn peeeped from the window, and
gave a despairing look at her favorite.
What had happened to her? Who had dressed her? Had her head been
put through a wringing-machine? Why were her eyes red and
swollen? Miss Dearborn determined to take her behind the trees
in the pine grove and give her some finishing touches; touches
that her skillful fingers fairly itched to bestow.
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