"Well young feller, how does it feel to be home?" asks the tweedy gentleman with droopy mustaches.
"Is that way New York?" Jimmy points out over the still water broadening in the sunlight.
"Yessiree-bobby, behind yonder bank of fog lies Manhattan."
"Please sir what's that?"
"That's New York. . . . You see New York is on Manhattan Island."
"Is it really on an island?"
"Well what do you think of a boy who dont know that his own home town is on an island?"
The tweedy gentleman's gold teeth glitter as he laughs with his mouth wide open. Jimmy walks on round the deck, kicking his heels, all foamy inside; New York's on an island.
"You look right glad to get home little boy," says the Southern lady.
"Oh I am, I could fall down and kiss the ground."
"Well that's a fine patriotic sentimen
