Joy seemed to be enjoyin’ herself first rate.  Her pretty face seemed to answer back the music that the youth at her feet wuz a-rousin’ from his magic flute.

Theology wuz a wise, reverend-lookin’ old man, a-thinkin’ up a sermon, or a-thinkin’ out some new system of religion, I dare presoom to say, for his book seemed to be half closed, and he wuz lost in deep thought.

He looked first rate—­a good and well-behaved old man, I hain’t a doubt on’t.

Then, there wuz Patriotism—­a man and a woman.  He, a-standin’ up ready to face danger, or die for his country; she, with her arms round him, a-lookin’ up into his face, as if to say—­

“If you must go, I will stay to home with a breakin’ heart, and take care of the children, and do the barn chores.”

They both looked real good and noble.  Mr. Bitters done first rate—­Josiah couldn’t have begun to done so well, nor I nuther.

Then there wuz a dretful impressive statute there, a grand-lookin’ old man, with his hand uplifted, a-tellin’ sunthin’ to a young child, who wuz a-listenin’ eagerly.

I d’no who the old man wuz; there wuz broad white wings a-risin’ up all round him, and it might be he wuz meant to depicter the Recordin’ Angel; if he wuz, he could have got quills enough out of them wings to do all his writin’ with.

And it might be that it wuz Wisdom instructin’ youth.

And it might be some enterprisin’ old goose-raiser a-tellin’ his oldest boy the best way to save the white wings of ganders.

But I don’t believe this wuz so.  There wuz a riz up, noble look on the old man’s face that wuz never ketched, I don’t believe, with wrestlin’ with geese on a farm, and neighbors all round him.

No, I guess it wuz the gray and wise old World a-instructin’ the young Republic what to do and what not to do.

The child looked dretful impetuous and eager, and ready to start off any minute, a good deal as our country does, and I presoom wherever the child wuz a-startin’ for it will git there.

A noble statute.  Mr. Bitters did first rate.

But when I git started on pictures and statutes—­I don’t know where or when to stop.

But time hastens, and to resoom.

As I reluctantly tore myself away from the glory and grandeur inside, and passed through the buildin’ to the outside, and a full view of the Court of Honor busted on to our bewildered vision, I did—­I actually did feel weak as a cat.

Never agin—­never agin will such a seen glow and grow before mine eyes, till the streets of the New Jerusalem open before my vision.

Beyend that wide Plaza, that long basin of clear sparklin’ water, dotted all over its glowin’ bosom with fairy-like gondolas, and gondolers, dressed in all the colors of the rainbow, or picturesque launches, with their gay freight of happy sightseers.  And here and there, jest where they wuz needed, to look the best, wuz statutes and banners and the most gorgeous fountain that ever dripped water.