Well, some folks don’t like the weather in Arizona, but I ain’t one of ’em. Why, the air in Arizona is so fine, tourists stop over the state line just to fill their tires with it. Course, Arizona does get rather hot. But since we started shippin’ in ice from California, our hens don’t lay hard boiled eggs no more.
As for folks who hate rain, why Arizona is just the spot. We haven’t seen a drop of rain in Arizona since Noah illegally parked his ark at the top of Mount Ararat. It’s so dry, we have to take our frogs to the pool to teach ’em how to swim. And never you mind saving up for a rainy day, cause you’ll never get to spend yer money.
So there it is in a nutshell. Why I like Arizona. Arizona is full of fine air and fine days. Makes it great fer all them tourists who get a hankering to drive to that Grand Canyon one of our old timers dug up while his wife wheeled the dirt away.
Gouverneur Morris, American minister to the court of Louis XVI, was considerably enriched, at the close of the reign of terror, by plate, jewels, furniture, paintings, coaches, and so on, left in his charge by members of the French nobility, that they might not be confiscated in the sack of the city.
Some years before the outbreak of the Civil War, a man with his wife and daughter took up their residence in a log cabin at the foot of Sunrise Rock, near Chattanooga, Tennessee. It seemed probable that they had known better days, for the head of the household was believed to get his living through “writin’ or book-larnin’,” but was fairly useless at hunting and farming.
Wallen’s Ridge, a rough eminence about a dozen miles from Chattanooga, Tennessee, was once an abiding place of Cherokee Indians, among whom lived Arinook, their medicine-man, and his daughter. The girl was pure and fair, and when a passing hunter from another tribe saw her one day at the door of her father’s home he was so struck with her charm of person and her engaging manner that he resolved not to return to his people until he had won her for his wife.