Page:Slabs of the sunburnt West.djvu/28

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They all pass over the bridge, they all look up at the white clock-tower lighted in night purples over the boulevard link bridge— And sometimes one says, "Well, we hand it to 'em." Mention proud things, catalogue them.

Three overland trains arriving the same hour, one from Memphis and the cotton belt, one from Omaha and the corn belt, one from Duluth, the lumberjack and the iron range.

It is wisdom to think the people are the city.