There is nothing that so gives a man away as to open a satchel and take
out a lunch. I have been riding on the cars and have made the acquaintance
of people who would listen to my stories, and take in every word as gospel
truth. They would seem to hang on my words with pleasure, and be
apparently glad they had become acquainted with one who combined so many
graces of mind and person, and they would gather around so as not to miss
a single lie that I might tell. And yet when I took a paper parcel out of
my valise and opened up a lunch, consisting of bread and onions, and
sausage and sweitzer cheese, they would draw coldly away from me and sit
in the farther part of the car, and appear never to have known me.