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FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY GIFFORD
IN THE LAND OF "HERE-WE-REST"
We're a restless lot, we Americans. We hold the world's record for restlessness. What we've been looking for, more than all else, above all else, has been a place where we might come to rest in peace: a place of refuge from the heart-burning, soul-racking, tormenting wandering. Appearances are against us, but in our heart of hearts we're home-makers. Almost to a man we're cherishing fond, sweet hopes of finding, sometime, somewhere, a place where we may walk jocund through golden days of dear delight, finding that life has broadened, deepened, become large. That's what you want; that's what I want—and we shan't be happy till we get it
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