He had seen the end of an era, the sunset of the pioneer. He had come upon it when already its glory was nearly spent. So in the b...uffalo times a traveller used to come upon the embers of a hunter's fire on the prairies, after the hunter was up and gone; the coals would be trampled out, but the ground was warm, and the flattened grass where he had slept and where his pony had grazed, told the story. This was the very end of the road-making West; the men who had put plains and mountains under the iron harness were old; some were poor, and even the successful ones were hunting for rest and a brief reprieve from death. It was already gone, that age; nothing could ever bring it back. The taste and smell and song of it, the visions those men had seen in the air and followed,--these he had caught in a kind of afterglow in their own faces,--and this would always be his.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Where there's more of singing and less of sighing, Where there's more of giving and less of buying,... And a man makes friends without half trying That's where the West begins.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Ah, I fancy it is just the same with most of what you call your "emancipation." You have read yourself into a number of new ideas ...and opinions. You have got a sort of smattering of recent discoveries in various fields--discoveries that seem to overthrow certain principles which have hitherto been held impregnable and unassailable. But all this has only been a matter of intellect, Miss West--superficial acquisition. It has not passed into your blood.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, though they come fr...om the ends of the earth!LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgeme...nt Seat; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the earth.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead... Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The West is preparing to add its fables to those of the East. The valleys of the Ganges, the Nile, and the Rhine having yielded th...eir crop, it remains to be seen what the valleys of the Amazon, the Plate, the Orinoco, the St. Lawrence, and the Mississippi will produce. Perchance, when, in the course of ages, American liberty has become a fiction of the past,--as it is to some extent a fiction of the present,--the poets of the world will be inspired by American mythology.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »