her still," _but not her stills_. It has been my privilege to
visit every state in the union and I find all the good is not in any
one state, nor all the bad. While Kentucky has had her night riders,
Missouri has had her boodlers, California her grafters, Illinois her
anarchists, Pennsylvania her machine politics, New York her Tammany
tiger, and Washington City her blizzards on inauguration days. God
doesn't grow all the daisies in one field nor confine thorns to one
thicket.

It's been my lot this land to roam,
O'er every state twixt ocean's foam,
But still my heart clings to its home,
Kentucky.

I've traveled the prairies of the west,
I've seen each section at its best,
There's nothing like my native nest,
Kentucky.

No matter through what state I pass,
No matter how the people class,
To me there's only one Blue Grass,
Kentucky.

When my wanderings here are o'er,
And my spirit seeks the golden shore,
Then keep my dust for evermore,
Kentucky.

Not only would I be brought up in Kentucky and in the country, but I
would go to the same Yankee schoolmaster, have the same sweethearts
and marry the same girl, provided she would consent to make another
journey with the same companion. By the way, we were married in
Bourbon County, Kentucky, when she was nineteen and I twenty. About
four years ago we celebrated our golden wedding, and the morning after
the celebration,

She put on "her old grey bonnet,
With the blue ribbon on it."
We didn't "hitch Dobbin to the Shay"
But along the interurban
We rode down to Bourbon,
Where we started for our golden wedding day.

If I could live life over surely I could ask no better age than the
one in which I have lived. We no longer toil over a mountain, but
glide through it on ribbons of steel; telegraphy dives the deep and
brings us the news of the old world every morning before breakfast; we
talk with tongues of lightning through telephones and send messages on
ether waves over the sea; we ride horse-cycles that run, never walk
and live without eating; we travel in carriages drawn by electric
steeds that never tire; the signal service gives us a geography of the
weather, so the farmer may know whether or not to prepare to plow, and
the Sunday school whether to arrange or to postpone its picnic
tomorrow; airships mount the heavens, steamships plough the ocean's
bosom, submarine torpedo boats underm