§ 22 Remote From the Real Centers
A Wyoming ranch foreman was sent East by his employer in charge of a carload of polo ponies. He was gone four weeks. When he arrived back at the ranch he wore an air of unmistakable pleasure and relief.
“Gee,” he said, “it’s good to git home again. So fur as I’m concerned I don’t want never to travel no more.”
“Didn’t you like New York?” asked one of the hands.
“Oh, it’s all right in its way,” he said, “but I don’t keer for it.”
“What’s chiefly the matter with it?”
“Oh,” he said, “it’s so dad blame far frum everywhere.”