"Why, Mr. Tarbox, I'm glad to see you!" said Frank, heartily, hurrying through the crowd and offering his hand, which was seized in a tight grip. "How long have you been here?"
"Three days," said Jonathan, "and I'm eenamost tired to death, standin' here, with nobody to talk to."
"I should think you would be lonely. I have only just come. Where are you staying?"
"I put up over to the Latin Quarter," said Mr. Tarbox; "though why they call it Latin, when they don't talk Latin there, I don't know. It's cheap livin' there, and I don't want to spend too much. There was a feller on the cars took me in when I jest come. As I heard him talk English, I asked him if he could recommend a good, cheap tavern for me to stop at. He told me the best he knew for a cheap one was the Hotel de Villy. So I hired a boy to lead me there. It was a big walk, and when I got there I found the scamp had sent me to the town hall of Paris. I'd like to give him a lickin'! But I met another chap that was more polite, and he directed me to where I am. He lives there himself. He is a poor artist, and I've took the room jest opposite to his. Where are you stoppin'?"
"At the Hotel Rivoli."
"That's a hotel where the big-bugs stop, ain't it—near Lewis Napoleon's house."
"Yes, I believe so," said Frank, smiling; "but I don't claim to be a big-bug."
"That colonel you're traveling with sets up for one. Is he here?"
"He is in the city. He came to the exhibition with me, but he didn't stop long. How do you like Paris, Mr. Tarbox?"
"I really don't know, Frank. The streets and buildin's are pooty handsome, but they do talk the most outlandish stuff I ever heerd. They rattle off jest like parrots, and I can't understand a word."