I am writing this chapter partly for the satisfaction of abusing that

accomplished knave Billfinger, and partly to show whosoever shall read

this how Americans fare at the hands of the Paris guides and what sort of

people Paris guides are. It need not be supposed that we were a stupider

or an easier prey than our countrymen generally are, for we were not.

The guides deceive and defraud every American who goes to Paris for the

first time and sees its sights alone or in company with others as little

experienced as himself. I shall visit Paris again someday, and then let

the guides beware! I shall go in my war paint--I shall carry my tomahawk

along.

I think we have lost but little time in Paris. We have gone to bed every

night tired out. Of course we visited the renowned International

Exposition. All the world did that. We went there on our third day in

Paris--and we stayed there nearly two hours. That was our first and last

visit. To tell the truth, we saw at a glance that one would have to

spend weeks--yea, even months--in that monstrous establishment to get an

intelligible idea of it. It was a wonderful show, but the moving masses

of people of all nations we saw there were a still more wonderful show.

I discovered that if I were to stay there a month, I should still find

myself looking at the people instead of the inanimate objects on

exhibition. I got a little interested in some curious old tapestries of

the thirteenth century, but a party of Arabs came by, and their dusky

faces and quaint costumes called my attention away at once. I watched a

silver swan, which had a living grace about his movements and a living

intelligence in his eyes--watched him swimming about as comfortably and

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The Innocents Abroad