By and by, near one of the gates, I encountered a group of young men who reminded me not a little of the bad giants.

They came about me staring, and presently began to push and hustle me, then to throw things at me.
I bore it as well as I could, wishing not to provoke enmity where wanted to remain for a while.

Oftener than once or twice I appealed to passers-by whom I fancied more benevolent-looking, but none would halt a moment to listen to me.

I looked poor, and that was enough: to the citizens of Bulika, as to house-dogs, poverty was an offence! Deformity and sickness were taxed; and no legislation of their princess was more heartily approved of than what tended to make poverty subserve wealth.
I took to my heels at last, and no one followed me beyond the gate.

A lumbering fellow, however, who sat by it eating a hunch of bread, picked up a stone to throw after me, and happily, in his stupid eagerness, threw, not the stone but the bread.