Camping among the Tombs 
a private office — probably the Manager’s — 
called him out and said, “Mr. So and So, here 
is a man who has inquired every day for the 
last week or so for a money package from Por- 
tage, Wisconsin. He is a stranger in the city 
with no one to identify him. He states correctly 
the amount and the name of the sender. He has 
shown me a letter which indicates that Mr. 
Muir is a botanist, and that although a travel- 
ing companion may have stolen Mr. Muir’s 
letter, he could not have stolen his botany, and 
requests us to examine him.” 
The head official smiled, took a good stare 
into my face, waved his hand, and said, “Let 
him have it.” Gladly I pocketed my money, 
and had not gone along the street more than 
a few rods before I met a very large negro 
woman with a tray of gingerbread, in which I 
immediately invested some of my new wealth, 
and walked rejoicingly, munching along the 
street, making no attempt to conceal the plea- 
sure I had in eating. Then, still hunting for 
more food, I found a sort of eating-place in 
[ 81 ] 
