ere is no use attempting to disguise it--I began to feel a nervous
apprehension that something was going to happen. I was startled at my
own shadow, and was even afraid to whistle with any view of keeping up
my spirits, lest something unusually florid in my style of whistling
might lead to the supposition that I was from California, and
therefore a good subject for robbery.

Which, by the way, puts me in mind of a remarkable fact, well worth
mentioning. The State of California owes me, at the least calculation,
two hundred dollars, paid in sums varying from six kreutzers up to a
pound sterling to hotel-keepers, porters, lackeys, and professional
gentlemen throughout Europe, exclusively on the ground of my
citizenship in that state. In Paris--in Spain--in Africa--in Germany
(with the exceptions of the beer-houses and country inns), I had to
pay a heavy percentage upon the capital invested in my gold mines
solely on the presumption that no man could come from so rich a
country without carrying off a good deal of treasure on his person,
like the carcass that carried the diamonds out of the rich valley for
Sinbad the Sailor. Yet I never could forego the pleasure of announcing
myself as an embassador to foreign parts from that noble state,
commissioned by the sovereigns generally to furnish them with the
latest improvements in morals, fashions, and manners for the public
benefit--an extremely onerous and responsible duty, which I have
executed, and shall continue to execute, with the most rigid fidelity.

After walking quite far enough to have reached the hotel, I became
confused at the winding of the streets. The neighborhood was strange.
I could not discover any familiar sign or object. The houses were low,
mean, and dark looking; the street was narrow and roughly paved. I
walked a little farther, then turned into another street still more
obscure, and, following that for some distance, brought up amid a pile
of ruined walls. There could no longer be a doubt that I had missed
the way, and was not likely to find it in this direction. It was a
very suspicious quarter into which I had strayed. Every thing about it
betokened poverty and crime. I began to feel rather uneasy, but it
would not do to stand here among the ruins as a mark for any midnight
prowler who might be lurking around. Turning off in a new direction, I
took a by-street, which appeared to lead to an open space. As I picked
my way over the masses of rubbish, a