h every piece of glass the perfessor owns is made by
that company.

"Why," says the perfessor, "their factory is in this very town."

And nothing would do fur me but I must go and see that factory. I
couldn't till the quarantine was pried loose from our house. But when it
was, I went down town and hunted up the place and looked her over.

It was a big factory, and I was kind of proud of that. I was glad she
wasn't no measly, little, old-fashioned, run-down concern. Of course,
I wasn't really no relation to it and it wasn't none to me. But I
was named fur it, too, and it come about as near to being a fambly as
anything I had ever had or was likely to find. So I was proud it seemed
to be doing so well.

I thinks as I looks at her of the thousands and thousands of bottles
that has been coming out of there fur years and years, and will be
fur years and years to come. And one bottle not so much different from
another one. And all that was really knowed about me was jest the name
on one out of all them millions and millions of bottles. It made me feel
kind of queer, when I thought of that, as if I didn't have no separate
place in the world any more than one of them millions of bottles. If any
one will shut his eyes and say his own name over and over agin fur quite
a spell, he will get kind of wonderized and mesmerized a-doing it--he
will begin to wonder who the dickens he is, anyhow, and what he is, and
what the difference between him and the next feller is. He will wonder
why he happens to be himself and the next feller HIMSELF. He wonders
where himself leaves off and the rest of the world begins. I been that
way myself--all wonderized, so that I felt jest like I was a melting
piece of the hull creation, and it was all shifting and drifting and
changing and flowing, and not solid anywhere, and I could hardly keep
myself from flowing into it. It makes a person feel awful queer, like
seeing a ghost would. It makes him feel like HE wasn't no solider than
a ghost himself. Well, if you ever done that and got that feeling, you
KNOW what I mean. All of a sudden, when I am trying to take in all
them millions and millions of bottles, it rushed onto me, that feeling,
strong. Thinking of them bottles had somehow brung it on. The bigness
of the hull creation, and the smallness of me, and the gait at which
everything was racing and rushing ahead, made me want to grab hold of
something solid and hang on.

I reached out my hand, and i