As we swept away from the shore, I cast back a wistful eye upon the
moss-grown roofs and ancient elms of the village, and prayed that the
inhabitants might long retain their happy ignorance, their absence of all
enterprise and improvement, their respect for the fiddle, and their
contempt for the almighty dollar. [Footnote: This phrase, used for the
first time in this sketch, has since passed into current circulation, and
by some has been questioned as savoring I fear, however, my prayer is of
irreverence. The author, therefore, owes it to his orthodoxy to declare
that no irreverence was intended even to the dollar itself; which he is
aware is daily becoming more and more an object of worship.] I fear,
however, my prayer is doomed to be of no avail. In a little while the
steamboat whirled me to an American town, just springing into bustling
and prosperous existence.
The surrounding forest had been laid out in town lots; frames of wooden
buildings were rising from among stumps and burned trees.
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