“From Paris I went to Rome, an’ there a queer state of mind came to me. I could look at temples an’ old ruins without even seein’ them--with my mind on my own country. All this travel idea, seein’ an’ learnin’ an’ doin’, changed so that it was hateful. I cut out Egypt, an’ I can’t remember much of India an’ Japan. But when I got on ship bound for Frisco I couldn’t see anythin’ for a different reason, an’ that was tears. I’d come far to find joy of life, an’ now I wept tears of joy because I was homeward bound. It was a great an’ splendid feelin’! “The Pacific isn’t like the Atlantic. It’s vast an’ smooth an’ peaceful, with swells like the mile-long ridges of the desert. I didn’t get seasick. An’ on that voyage I got some rest. Maybe the sea is like the desert. Anyway, it calmed me, an’ I could think clear once more. As I walked the deck by day, or hung over the rail by night, my yearnin’s an’ dreams came back. When I reached Frisco I’d take train for the Middle West, an’ somewhere I’d buy the green ranch an’ settle down to peace an’ quiet for the rest of my life. The hope was beautiful. I believed in it. That wild desire to search for the joy of life had to be buried. I had been wrong about that. It was only a dream--a boy’s dream, on the hope of which I had spent the manhood of my best years. Ah! it was bitter--bitter to realize that. I--who had never given in to defeat!... But I conquered my regret because I knew I had just mistaken what I wanted. An’ it was not wholly too late!... Wansfell, you’ve no idea of the size of the old earth. I’ve been round it. An’ that Pacific! Oh, what an endless ocean of waters! It seemed eternal, like the sky. But--at last--I got to--Frisco.” Here Dismukes choked and broke down. The deep, rolling voice lost its strength for a moment. He drew a long, long breath that it hurt Adam to hear. “Wansfell, when my feet once more touched land it was as though I’d really found happiness,” presently went on Dismukes, clearing his throat of huskiness. “I was in the clouds. I could have kissed the very dirt. My own, my native land!... Now for the last leg of the journey--an’ the little farm--the home to be--friends to make--perhaps a sweet-faced woman an’ a child! Oh, it was as glorious as my lost dreams!