376 THE FAT OF THE LAND 
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 en- 
vironments make the most impressive human 
show. There is more life, vigor, utility, gor- 
geousness 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 es- 
caped, 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 modi- 
cum 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 Will- 
iams? The evidence is entirely from within. 
How is he to support a countenance and mien 
