He is a merchant,—this is a business country,—while the Japanese Mr. Beggar is an artist, I suppose.
My little gold watch pointed eleven.
I have been writing for some hours about my first impression of the city from the wharf, and my journey from there to this Palace Hotel.
The number of my room is 489.
I fear I may not return if I once go out. It’s so hard to remember the number.
The large mirror reflected me as being so very small in the big room.
Such a great room with high ceiling!
I don’t feel at home at all.
Not a petal of flower. No inviting picture on the wall!