(I have used this simely on this occasion on the side of males, but it is jest as true on the side of females.  For Inspiration and Genius when it falls from Heaven is jest as apt to descend and settle down onto a female’s fore-top as a male’s, and the blind and naggin’ pardner is jest as apt to be a male—­jest exactly.)

But as I wuz a-sayin’, the more Columbus wuz mocked at—­the more they jeered and sneered at him, the more stiddy and constant he pursued after the Land that appeared only to his prophetic eyes.

Day after day, when he wuz tired out, beat completely out by the incomprehension, and weary doubts, and empty denials of the multitude—­then, like a breath of balm, came to his weary forward the soft gale from the land he sought; he saw in his own mind the tall pines reach up into the blue skies, the rich bloom and greenness of its Savannas; he inhaled the odor of rare blossoms that the Old World never saw, and then he riz up agin, refreshed, as it were, and ready to press forwards.

[Illustration:  He saw in his own mind the tall pines reach up into the blue skies.]

Yes, in every country, through all time, there has always been some Columbus, walkin’ with his feet on the ground amongst mortals, and his head in the Heavens amongst Gods.

He has oftenest been poor, and always misunderstood, and undervalued, by the grosser souls about him.

The discoverers, the inventors, whom God loves best, it must be, sence He confides in ’em, and tells ’em things He keeps hid from the World.  Them who apprehend while yet they cannot comprehend.

And that is what we have got to do lots of times if we git along any in this World, if we calculate to git out of its Swamps and Morasses onto any considerable rise of ground.

You can’t foller a ground-mice or a snail, if you lay out to elevate yourself; no, you must foller a Star.

You have got to keep your eyes up above the ground, or your feet will never take you up any mountain side.

And how them mariners tried to make Columbus turn back after he had at last, through all his tribulations, sot sail on the broad, treacherous Ocean—­jest think of his tribulations before he started!

Troubles with poverty, and ignorance, and unbelief, and perils by foes, and perils by false friends, and perils by long delay.

How for years and years he carried round them strong beliefs of hisen, ofttimes in a hungry and faint body, and couldn’t git nobody to believe in ’em—­couldn’t git nobody to even hear about ’em.

Year after year did he toil and endeavor to git somebody to listen to his plans, and glowin’ hopes.

Year after year, while the lines deepened on his patient face, and the hopes that wuz glowin’ and eager became deep and fervent, and a part of him.

How strange, how strange and sort o’ pitiful, this one man out of a world full of men and wimmen, this one man with his tired feet on the dust and worn sand of the Old World, and his head and heart in the New World.