I had never been accustomed to think of money, and felt some little contempt for it--not, indeed, a lofty hatred, but a careless wonder why it seemed to be always thought of.

It was one of the last things I ever thought of; and those who were waiting for it were--until I got used to them--obliged in self-duty to remind me.
This, however, was not my fault.

I never dreamed of wronging them.

But I had earned no practical knowledge of the great world any where, much though I had wandered about, according to vague recollections.

The duty of paying had never been mine; that important part had been done for me.
And my father had such a horror always of any growth of avarice that he never gave me sixpence.
And now, when I heard upon every side continual talk of money, from Suan Isco upward, I thought at first that the New World must be different from the Old one, and that the gold mines in the neighborhood must have made them full of it; and once or twice I asked Uncle Sam; but he only nodded his head, and said that it was the practice every where.