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a web of many textures

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Hurra!” said Ike, as he read the fact in the papers,
“here 's O'Regan admitted to the Union.” “A furriner,
I should jedge,” remarked Mrs. Partington, looking very
wisely at the steam that rose from the tea-cups and
formed in one cloud near the ceiling; “but I 'm glad
they 've let him come in to enjoy our political rights
and lefts, and other perogatives. There 's room enough,
and the rear of our institutions should be distended. I
don't believe a man should be cut off because he was n't
born in this country for twenty-one years, which of
course was n't any fault of his, for everybody would be
born here if they could have their own auction consulted.”
— “It means,” said Ike, “a new State.” — “Well,
child,” replied she, “the odds is only the difference —
States or men, 't is all the same. Let 'em come into our
grand consternation, where the eagle shall spread its


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broad opinions over 'em, and make 'em happy in an unlimited
bondage of brotherhood, like the Siamese twins.”
She had not taken her eyes from the steam that rose
from the cups, and joined in one cloud, that seemed to
represent the Union she was depicting. Ike had a
better illustration, for he took the five preserved peaches
on the plate, and put them all into one.