These thoughts wuz runnin' through my head as we wended our way around, it did my soul good, as I said, to see the progress these Filipinos are makin', and to meditate on the fact how enterprisin' Uncle Samuel is when he sets out.

Why jest think on't, he's taught them Filipinos more English in four years than the Spaniards taught 'em their language in the four hundred years they took care on 'em.
I wuz so proud and happy as I thought on't that I stepped considerable high as I walked along, and I hearn a profane bystander say (wicked creeter to think on't), "That woman has took too much stimulant." And Josiah sez, "What ails you, Samantha?
You walk as if you wuz follerin' a band of music." And I wuz, it wuz the music of the Future that sounds out in my ears anon or oftener, sweet inspirin' strains that even Josiah can't hear if his head lays on the same piller.
It sings of an ignorant, oppressed race changed into an enlightened prosperous one, this great work done by our own country, this song comes floatin' into my ears over the wide Pacific.

And another louder strain comes from nigher by made tender and pathetic by years of oppression and suppressed suffering that could find expression in no other way than this heart searching pathos.

And blending with it, ringing over and above it, triumphant happy echoes telling of real freedom of mind and conscience, the true liberty..