"Constellation, says you? No--it's a
State."
"Man, we don't deal in States here. WILL you tell me where you are
from IN GENERAL--AT LARGE, don't you understand?"
"Oh, now I get your idea," I says. "I'm from America,--the United
States of America."
Peters, do you know I had him AGAIN? If I hadn't I'm a clam! His
face was as blank as a target after a militia shooting-match. He
turned to an under clerk and says--
"Where is America? WHAT is America?"
The under clerk answered up prompt and says--
"There ain't any such orb."
"ORB?" says I. "Why, what are you talking about, young man? It
ain't an orb; it's a country; it's a continent. Columbus
discovered it; I reckon likely you've heard of HIM, anyway.
America--why, sir, America--"
"Silence!" says the head clerk. "Once for all, where--are--you--
FROM?"
"Well," says I, "I don't know anything more to say--unless I lump
things, and just say I'm from the world."
"Ah," says he, brightening up, "now that's something like! WHAT
world?"
Peters, he had ME, that time. I looked at him, puzzled, he looked
at me, worried. Then he burst out--
"Come, come, what world?"
Says I, "Why, THE world, of course."
"THE world!" he says. "H'm! there's billions of them! . . . Next!"
That meant for me to stand aside. I done so, and a sky-blue man
with seven heads and only one leg hopped into my place. I took a
walk.
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