Try as I might, I could not feel unhappy that
beautiful September morning as we steamed up the finest waterway to the
finest city in the world. Deny it who will, I claim that our Empire City
and its environments make the most impressive human show. There is more
life, vigor, utility, gorgeousness about it than can be found anywhere
else; and it has the snap and elasticity of youth, which are so
attractive. No man who claims the privilege of American citizenship can
sail up New York Bay without feeling pride in his country and
satisfaction in his birthright. One doesn't disparage other cities and
other countries when he claims that his own is the best.
We were not specially badly treated at the custom-house,--no worse,
indeed, than smugglers, thieves, or pirates would have been; and we
escaped, after some hours of confinement, without loss of life or
baggage, but with considerable loss of dignity. How can a
self-respecting, middle-aged man (to be polite to myself) stand for
hours in a crowded shed, or lean against a dirty post, or sit on the
sharp edge of his open trunk, waiting for a Superior Being with a gilt
band around his hat, without losing some modicum of dignity? And how,
when this Superior Being calls his number and kicks his trunk, is he to
know that he is a free-born American citizen and a lineal descendant of
Roger Williams? The evidence is entirely from within.
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