Well the first thing I seen was how terrible loud the place was. I never struck anything like it, with all the powerful big machine-carts a-driving around and the folks inside a-honking and a-yelling. One ornery old cretur all but tromped me to mush with his yellow cart, and blamed if I warn't scared most to death.
I hain't never seen so many types of people together in all my life, neither. And all mixed up together, too. Whitefolk crowded together with the Spaniards and A-rabs and 'black people' -- I got to call them that because I called them something else and then this woman with uncommon short hair like a boy's she heard me and says I ain't to call them that anymore because it's offensive. I warn't meaning anything by it, that's just what we call them back home. Anyway, I reckon I'll call them 'black people' now. Ain't no matter to me.
They got powerful tall buildings in Tronto too. I come across one called the Cyan Tower, and honest Injun, it looked high enough to pierce Heaven. The whole skyline was enough to make a body's eyes pop out of his skull.
I seen the most awful beautiful posters of women in the store windows. I could tell how they was off for money, on a account of they was wearing gold and di'monds, and I suspect that's why they was on the Queen's Street. It was a bully street.
Original illustration by E.W. Kemble
Do you ever imagine what it would be like to bring a historical character into modern day?