Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. From thoughts of fame to thoughts of mere bread and butter! It seemed to Spurlock that he had tumbled off the edge of Somewhere into the abyss of Nowhere. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice.
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