Newspaper Page Text
The San Francisco Sunday Call ROBERT BARR'S VIEW OF MARK TWAIN Robert Barr ONE reason that so many crimi nals are caught is because they almost invariably neglect to rehearse their crimes before •fc-and and thus fail to discover where ihe weaknesses of their scheme lie. An eamjrabiy executed misdeed must have no clew hanging from it, to result aft erward in an admirably executed mis doer. To leave generalities and come down to particulars, this article is a. eort of one chaptered rehearsal of what may become, if not nipped in the bud, a "biography of Mark Twain. I often urged Hark Twain to write his autobiography, for a life which in cluded rinsing gravel in search of gold on short rations in Nevada, lecturing in San Francisco In the wild hope of filling an empty house and am empty pocket, challenging a newspaperman with Tvhom he had no quarrel to fight a duel merely because he had been left, in charge of the opposition paper and felt that he must keep up the honor able- traditions of the Nevada press, flying' from the territory because he received an intimation from the gov ernor that he would get two years just to Bee how the anti-dueling law •worked, dining- as the honored guest of the most haughty emperor in the most exclusive court of the world, and \u25a0 epringing from obscurity to universal fame practically in a single night, cer tainly contained material for an un usually interesting volume. ; Urging this upon him once, he said meditatively: .. "An autobiography unlmbued with truth Is valueless." "But you would not need to resort to fiction. The plain truth would beat - any one else's imagination." . : "If I told the plain truth about some people I have known," he drawled .deadly, "they would take me out and lynch me." The first glimmer of an idea that he could, perhaps tell a story came to Mark Twain when he was 14 years old, and it set him thinking. He saw something happen that interested him, and on returning home he told it to his comrade, Jim McDaniels, a son of the man who kept the local shoe shop and — strange combination—confection ery store. He related the Incident sol emnly, with absolute unvarnished ac- ' curacy, yet McDaniels, first bursting Into eiiouts of laughter, finally rolled • off his chair and writhed on the floor in a helpless condition of merriment. "This reception of a harmless, almost statistical account of unembellished -. veracity puzzled Mark. Cither truth waa a commodity co unfamiliar to the .western mind as to be hailed with irre pressible hilarity, or else there was something In his narration different from the methods of the ordinary, ev eryday teller of tales. Reflection in clined him toward the latter theory, and the belfe'f grew that If he got his chance he might yet reduce some sec tion of the world to the condition In which he had placed Jim McDaniels. . Although fame came to him In bulk «n the publication of "The Innocents Abroad," yet long before that the in toxicating draft had been measured out to him on the Installment plan. First he achieved the local fame that Nevada furnished, and later he joined to it the celebrity that became his in California. But the Rocky mountains ! seemed a barrier which cut off the east ' from him, and over that barrier he ! could not Coat the bubble of reputa tion. Besifies reporting for the Vi rr S lnla City Enterprise he wrote weekly let ters for that paper, mainly about the members of the legislature, and these communications failed to please that distinguished body as much as they gratified the readers of the Enter prise. After each article appeared in print some law giver -would rise In his place on a question of privilege and plead for the extinction or suppres sion of the -writer of these letters, and thus much valuable time was lost to • the legislative assembly of the terri tory. "MARK TWAIX" There was an old pilot named Sellars who -wrote items for the New Orleans True Delta on the condition of the" Mississippi river, signing these ma rine chronicles "Mark Twain." There drifted across the continent from New Orleans to Virginia City the news that Eellers had died, so the . young re porter took the name "Mark Twain," It being, as the advertisements Bay, "of no further use to the owner." With this norn de guerre he signed his weekly letters and gave angry legis lators a mark at which to shy their vq cai'fchilialahs. By and by people on the streets used to greet him with "Hello, Mark," and thus the youth tasted fame for the first time and rather liked it. When Artemus Ward -came to Vir ginia City he was much Impressed by the geniu^ of the young, reporter. He determined to assist his fame over the mountains and persuaded Mark Twain to write out the history of "The Jumping Frog." This celebrated story was the first of .Twain's that crossed the Rockies, and thus may be regarded as.launch ing him on' his successful literary ca reer. But, like Dickens and other,cele . b rated writers, there was coincident with his literary progress a lecturing, public story reading experience, which began early and continued. Mark Twain's first platform appearance "was caused by a desire to augment—per haps it would be more truthful to say to inaugurate — his own treasury rather than to inform a, public palpi tating for fresh knowledge. He had been for a time in the Sandwich; isl ands, writing a weekly letter for . the Sacramento Union and promptly spending the money received, for the came as time went 0n,.60 that when he reached San Francisco he found~him pelf both out of funds and cut of a- job. The \u25a0 Sandwich Island letters had given him a reputation all over" Cali fornia, but more especially^ In San Francisco. He proposed," therefore, to venture on a. lecture, and consulted several "of his friends about it, ; but' the^r united 'wisdom was unanimously against the project. Could* his voice fill the hall? asked one. Mark said he wouldirisk the voice if his popularity filled the hall in the first: place.' Had ', the public any interest • in the Sand wich islands? demanded another. The public would simply yearn ; to annex the whole group when \u25a0 ft. heard him talk about the islands,: averred the fu ture'lecturer, with a confidence he was . far from feeling. The -last man he consulted was . the proprietor of a leading San Francisco • newspaper, whose name I have forgot- . ten. They met on the- street land the newspaperman said -the scheme was madness. Twain would not get 10 peo ple in all California who .would' pay $1 each merely to hear him talk If he had no magic lantern,' no trick dogs, couldn't do conjuring and wasn't a ven triloquist. The idea was absurd, r- .a The • man in- the street thoroughly^; convinced the ' would be lecturer tllat he was in the wrong,, and, feeling he , ouglit to apologize to an Insulted pub lic. Mark Twain turned, dejectedly away, when Jlaguire tapped him on the shoulder, an instance of the right man appearing on # the right spot at the right moment — an example .common enough In real life, but absolutely use less In fictionj for a discriminating public sneers at coincidence. "I beg your pardon," said Maguire, "but I overheard the last few sentences, and your plan^ is a first rate one. I own klx opera houses and have three or four vacant for next. Sunday night. Now, you get your lecture ready, see to the advertisements and I'll light up . the house, provide ushers and all the rest. I feel certain you'll have a big audience, and ! if '\u25a0 you don't you can't lose, for the theater shan't cost you anything." ... : TROUBLE AT 8 An embryo lecturer could«hardly ask better terms, so Mark wrote out the advertisement announcing that • he would lecture, on the subject of the Sandwich islands at a specified place of entertainment, adding. "The trouble will begin at 8," a phrase which has Bften been quoted since and doubtless had much to do with attracting the large audience that came. - . There was little time for prepara tion, as it was on Saturday that Ma gulre's proposition was made and ac cepted. The lecturer sat up all night writing out his discourse, inventing at the same time a device which would conceal the manuscript from the audi •ence, hoping thus to give an extem porary character to his remarks, a de sire that was amply fulfilled when the test came, for after the first few sen tences the born lecturer found the man uscript of little use to him. The financial and artistic triumph of this first lecture did much to confirm Mark Twain In a habit he never suc ceeded In breaking, and familiarity with the applause which invariably greeted his appearance on the plat form never dulled the pleasant thrill such greeting gave him. When he crossed the apparently boundless seas to distant Australasia, seeming to float so far from the world he knew to'some other planet, where he considered it ab surd to suppose his name had preceded him," he never quite recovered from .the surprise at. finding himself cheered \u25a0 In the English tongue, for a cheer be longs to a language quite as much as do its -words. . ' • Journalism was not without its ex citements in the early days out west, for when a constant subscriber, ques tioned £ne accuracy of an item he did so with a drawn revolver in his hand, and the editor's reply was as apt to be. as lead laden as the aforementioned frog. Still it must not be imagined that all citizens took this somewhat uncertain method of obtaining a"retrac tlon, for 'the higher class of law. abid ing fellow countrymen sent a formal challenge to the. writer and fought the matter out according to the established rules of the code. The paper with the greater number of challenges on hand was respected as enterprising, and a reporter who could not shoot straight as well as write straight soon faded away from a turbulent , world, being a mere incumbrance to a hard working, conscientious city editor. Steve GMls could hardly, be called a journalist, because ' his general useful ness on a paper included journalism as a mere side "show. His nominal. pro- ; fession was that of a type setter, but he had as keen a regard for the honor of the paper with which he was con nected as If he had been the editor in chief. Gillis weighed 90 pounds or thereabouts, but he could thrash any man- double his weight with an ease and celerity leaving nothing to be desired. He had no use for a six shooter, and if an- Indiscreet enemy drew upon ' him Gillis would : first re move the . weapon and then with his fists proceed' to lay the victim up for a -week. Great giants, armed like modern iron clads' -with quick firing guns,* went about in craven terror of little. Gillis, and sneaked rapidly up obscure alleys when they saw him approach. Not only could Gillis overcome any man in Virginia City, but'* when the arm ' of the law proved stronger than his own and he was compelled to fly, to California, he laid low the flower of San Francisco's slum chivalry \u25a0as ex pedltlously as he had floored the less numerous roughs of Nevada. . NEAR/ A COMBAT v*^, When Mark Twain", took charge jj of A LITTLE PLAIN TALK FOR MARRIED MOSSBACKS Marjorie Daw T HAVE married ' a husband and I therefore I can^not come." Such •^ was the eternal refrain that met my ears at .each visit to the youiig matrons of my. acquaintance. This was the answer $hat blocked every effort to stir them^ up'_to ; some enthusiasm or participation in the interests' of 'the big outside world. "The-Mossback Mo- ; tif," I called it, in savage; resentment at the nonresponsiveness of once.;sympa thetic spirits. And Ilonged to affix my OK- to those heretical* sayings of Rob ert : Louis Stevenson ; anent the \u25a0 narrow liig influence of .comfortable married life. But I * wouldn't Testrict i them •as he does to the male'half of the'partner ship. \u25a0 •-. - \u25a0 \u25a0':v: v ;. :'- s : \u25a0v ; \u25a0:.: The gist ; of his ; observations is > this: "In- marriage a man-becomes slack and selfish ' and undergoes a;' fatty degener- " atlon of his moral being. He is so com fortable and * happy \u25a0he begins '.to prefer comfort and happiness, to 'every-' thing; else on 1 earth, j his wife ; included." After' my house ' to* house; canvass in ' the: realm of wedded bliss I 'concluded • that • the woman was ; equally • guilty—at-any rate in the first f ew years., . . The material ' glories j of' her..; new|es- \u25a0 tate-7-her/ flat : and « her wedding * pres- : ents— fill: her-'mind and' she- abandons her: old* interests,;; her.: old"- friendships," her- premarital f accomplishments < and philanthropic enthusiasms. / Closer and ; the chief sheet of Virginia City.; Gillis was a "comp"^ on that paper, "and he at once . developed a friendship "for the new editor as cordial as it was' em barrassing. Mark's predecessor in 1 the editorial chair had been a peaceful man,; \u25a0a's peace was reckoned in; Nevada, and thought he did his duty by his fellow, men if: he foughfa duel, say once a" week, or twice in cases of emergency. Naturally, Gillis had no .patience with' a chief so unobtrusive, and 'he hailed with enthusiasm and gratitude the com ing of a, new manr Mark, being al ways somewhat indolent, allowed hla devoted friend to; run things ;as suited him, and Gillis entered into: an acri monious correspondence with zest and transcendent talent, for he could write a letter ankle deep In abuse that would goad a monk to self-defense. . V The natural sequence of 'all this was that the new editor found himself with a nice selection of. duels '. on hand, the first date being set for a revolver com bat with the proprietor; of '; the;- oppo-: sitlon paper, a mild mannered: man,- as paclficin his ; intentions as Twain him self, who had refused several, of Steve's truculent challenges/ but" at; last was forced to accept, because the energetio Gillis : set . up the whole-correspondence, printed and published it. Even a mem ber of the Peace society could not stand that. But the duels never, were fought, because the zeal of Steven ;Gillis"j>ver-. leaped itself In making the controversy, public, thus: bringing it to;the kriowl-" edge of the governor In ; Carson City, •who took prompt 'Steps to 'place in prison all interested in this commotion. Markreceived a privatelntimatlon that if he was not . outside | the territory closer she draws the . "dead: line"; till ! it Includes naught .but •: Darby "and .• self, servant problems, cutglass, berry bowls" and silver salad forks. To let a: thought escape beyond these limits is/according to her: conjugal code : of : ; ethics, : little short of -treason, v \u25a0'\u25a0-..' ;.\u25a0 >: \ : ; Before; marriage Gladys and" Ethel : had^ flung themselves; with"i benevolent ardor into: all sorts ; ; of 'i noble S causey from certified milk and \u25a0Juvenile* courts' to social j settlements andi public-; play grounds.'. ;•? But ?' now;*-, they # received i my; newest \ enthusiastic {schemes * the; zest of a flapjack and (the rresponsiyeness of a^ stonelwall:- - Safe and' snug; imthelr citadels \ of X personal being,?, they turned a deaf ear to 'all^thejcrles iwlth-" out." Lapped In lethargic content, th«y drifted slowly but-surelylto-atrophyj of ; their bigger,' broader -humanity. r.^^:; There is Edith,: too, once the faithful-; est; of churchwomen, la militants Chris tlanVof { the; old .schools and . alteacher ;of : a Sunday; school • class, "i After \u25a0 marriage;. whatfa?onan^e} is| there ! | Relig ious", t er- ' vor "faints on a;Warm hearthstone"iand : she abandons . all f her'Xold "-'duties I arid charitable Interests. ':% She ' has married': a husband,, she'd'? have \ you'rknow,^ and; therefore she can -not come to -the house 1 of "the Lord.*:.' ""'.: L/" '\u25a0\u25a0 ' '^* r \u25a0:: \u25a0Worst.of allTlsCeiia— "St. :* Cecelia," as' we** named^.her y in .= the old^ boarding" school ' days, -. for .-, her .j great-»gif ts^ of , music. _*\u25a0 .Her •\u25a0\u25a0 paren ts.'iby ;dlnt|of gmuch;. toiling/ and .saving "and? scrimping,' ; had ; accumulated ''enough UoJse'n'd'her^toiGer-; manyJaridfafter^five'yearsilnXeipslcshe returned. toius a flnished;product*of! the; conservatory-^-a."virt'uoso'jtofdellght:*our '\u25a0'-\u25a0 '" .-'.- \u25a0 :'\u25a0 -\u25a0 " . s'. :' \u25a0 ' ,'.\u25a0 - X-"'i within 24 hours he would, be- Inside a \u25a0jail ".for the next; two years. S The victim of :Glllls': Glllls' enterprise spoke with justifiable resentment to Steve, and asked what was to bedonenow. The indefatigable \ Steve admitted that they would have to climb out; said that the coach left for • .California at 4 o'clock' in the mornins.i and he would at i once, secure places oh it, -which' he did. In order that the- Interval should not'; be misspent, and determined that his champion. should not leave town un der the aspersion : that j he : ran -away, to live jto fight .another; day, : Steve made a' friendly call on'each'oftho opposition and wrung from; them -written apolo gies of the most abject "character. Steve found . that the; opposition edi tor, had already fled,* but he ran to earth all'the others. One{ or two objected to Steve's proposal; \u25a0'.'they^had not brought on: the .trouble; they;,were -,-, re«rdy to fight if the -other party was— therefore they, refused;, to^applogize. . : Gillla . was not to be baffled' by f any' such? halting, logic as this. , He briefly explained that there was no time '\u25a0'. for .'argument, squared, up /and-: pummeled the ob jector; then '•; stood over him as, with eyes scarcely able to see, the -111 ;used man ' penned, ' at-- Steve's ; dictation, ;"a groveling- apology -to Steve's, principal. With these .documents in his .Inside pocket, the , collection \u25a0; leaving him barely : time to catch I the - coach,. Gillis quitted Virginia: Cit y: with Mark Twain one ; Intensely tblack 1 morning, 'and -In due time arrived in; San Francisco. ;' The record : of : Steve Gillis . in the metropolia -of -the extreme ~ west .was glorious i beyond description. He did souls : and our . programs, j She j was : the i pride of ourj social circle, , the Joy of our I entertainmehts^until , she"married. ; . How, i unsuspectingly ;we*; congratulated : the winner! To 'espouse .'.'St. Cecelia" "was to \ domesticate\.the^muse, of : harmony herself, ~- and| we envied . the -man >'. who ; would-; Uve. : and c and . have; his ; lucky being in -."a c; soothing,; care :de stroying' atmosphere; of .ymelody. ,'\u25a0 But when . l-, called ', on^her .'. and begged for a little j>muslc—^alasl hshe was j '.'out v ; of ; practice;; she ; "had ?. not ; touched /the ] > pianoT(except :to dust'lt) since her.wed-".^ ding* a'; year," ago!" \u25a0r;A\With i a 'groan: I - .'recognized vth'e ileltjmotlf of '-. the moss- < backs.V; ; AridUhro"ugh it' all -shone such V a.superlor;smlle' f of abnega-" tion'; it; r ,was;; enough to "make : angelsY . weep p'and'^ mere mortals^ like J myself ;rage t with • Impotent % rebel- s llon.at; this ; sacrlflcetoff a ; great" gift - to!' mistaken I ideals; of /wifely ; deybtion^V':^ • ~-: { Oh," - if .} it i. had*; been r - really ; necessary; U if : sheihad 1 . beeril'forced>!to r ch66"se"be- : tweeh-i hot /biscuits \{i or^hybby'sAbreak^] fastVahdvßeethoyen^orirßrahrns^forAhis;' after," dinner > cordial,'"! 'l wouldn' t s raise •a $ murmur f of : buti would? give \u25a0;= my; vote Vto V the .^creature a comforts. >.(. I % hold-nobbrlef ifqrtthej^wifeVwho-^ devotes % hours " of ; frenzied fenergy/tol the^Huh-;' gaVlamßhap'sodyiwhilelherJhousework'P is as ?promlscuous?as 'a. Hungarian" goii- : lashlt'.- jßut^ : in this, was -7 IhV mosts t : * cases,"; ithjere-^wasjno^s^cj^* alternative Is ' always ga|way^ anyhow^' if Fone -\u25a0\u25a0 hasfthe-Xwillfrand^the^fright'-'senseiofi pVoportionX- and lvalues):: : St; Cecella;kept|a;mald : :andihadjplenty}ofri leisure.^but? she jfelt^itj her :duty* to * \u25a0\u0084-''._-/'' ' , • . . ': not want; to: fight, but by jingo he was always *at it, and always victorious. There was alarge family of the GlHises —Steve and. Jim and George", and the rest— all .fighters.,: Their father had an eye shot-out^ in Walker's filibustering expedition, and one of the boys, fought :by b the^old man's side, as long as he could 'load, and pull: a trigger; fought without flinching until he was literally cut to; pieces,: with the "dead , and wounded heaped around him. HIS": THOROUGH ADVICE : taking leave of Mark. Twain as a newspaperman, I may here; set down his ~ advice to young* aspirants who yearn for a. situation: on a daily journal. ' I have not the correspondent*© at ; hand, ; arid so must quote from mem ory,' but -the gist -of , the advice Is all' here. ' I believe ; many*, a 'successful journalist j has .-been launched on;- his career through: the .influence of Mark Twain,! an r influence he . never refused . to- exert v even ~ in ';-" the' case "of , utter strangers, yet some' disappointment has now" and H then'tariseri in the % minds "of \u25a0 the receivers of the; second letter, for the influence was not applied exactly as had-been .expected. - V .'A young. man-whom I know wrote to : Mark Twain saying ;he wanted to j get a situation on "a* San Francisco paper. He was willing to accept the humblest position-on the poorest paper: in "that ; city, and \ he thought if ; Mark r "Twain were to ] write him a letter of Introduc tion ; the same .wo uld : be a great; help In the furtherance of ; his ambition. He had recently graduated from college and was still being supported .by his mother — a position of subordination. give such; tender care .to all "her new .possessions;' and -keep", them* in' such im maculate ; deadly " order; that ;, there ; was neither "time, nor 'energy for music. High priestessof her little flat, she. expended so much strength polishing up; the sa cred. ,vessels and .vest ments and. altar^lothis with the sacred symbols" of : the , new> idolatry > thati the real signiflcarica'of_it all.was lost , Rites and ceremonials^cfushedi outithev spirit and 'the-: home -became'; a. temple: ofego tism \u25a0;"'\u25a0 for the "worship :of v things— "my things, ;my mahoganies, my 'brasses, my cutglass; berry"' bowls and ' silver'.; salad forks.".?": She is so proud and complacent In J the i .possession? of \ all these \ worldly goods: that she comes to* prefer, them] to , every thing ? else on i earth,*, the* husband's \u25a0comfort '-?••' included/:-- Certainly,! if • his wlshfes I wereV: consulted, \ the emblazoning >of hlsj; initials ' on every article Hn Hhe^houseTmlght^be" omitted and 'the 5 energies \u25a0 invested ?in"a few post prandial -tunes-— •;'.•:> '. <\u25a0 - '\u25a0;\u25a0"•'" . " Just 'a -pony at twilight,. • y" \u25a0" * '' "; When the lights are low. ? - Vi - V- '- may,.; soothe y the -^savage^breast -of the least ! muslcaljof husbands,- aridairocca^ slonal nocturne J or sonata; delicately ad ministered^ may "smooth. the* commercial creases fout) of f;hls soul • after,. a"? nerve racklngMay; on .the] stock [exchange and keepjhisltenderysentlments'vlbrantrand : responsive^* Not>by bread *alone can 'he llve.:> The * mostf.prosalc ~ of ? men -will sometimes jhungerj ( f or " higher :.fare -. and : beg i*( i n~'t he'Vwords >i of i Friar; .Tuck) Is f 0 r ."a'v f ewj* c-c-r-rumbs : "of j c-r-r-rarib'rry ple.V^": * * : V.- •:.= :i:i ",-\u25a0; '\u25a0 ".-; ':'''"! "-\u25a0'-'"' > -Even'the; wretch «,"who« is '^noti moved by' concdrdlof "sweet sotlnds": feels" a cer which Ihe was anxious to" exchange for bneiof Independence. . ;\u25a0-* The jxeply: he promptly received ele vated I his ' spirits to the highest"; pitch of enthusiasm. The letter ran somewhat as - follows : : ; N ;" 'fTou*' are quite correct In assuming that I; have influence enough to_get you' a^place 1 , on- a San Francisco paper. I •know, nearly all the editors, and. most .of them* know-me. - But" why choose the 1 poorest s paper? -Why : not attach your self to 'the best? I assure it; is much more satisfactory- to belong to a godd paper . than to! a bad "one, and it Is as easy/ for me to get you a place on the best as on the; worst when ram at it, anyhow. So -just -choose your paper;, have nov, hesitation Vabout . the .matter; select the most: desirable daily , in San Francisco, and I will write you'a letter that will secure you a situation on It." -The -•young man \u25a0to whom this letter was written felt, as I have said, highly elated,. but I knew something about the newspaper business and. failed to see how any, man could guarantee to an en tire stranger a situation on any given sheet. /A letter from Mark Twain -would undoubtedly exert great weight y with any editor in the United States. Still, a position on a dally never remained vacant \u25a0 for more than -about 10 minutes at a" time. The place had, to-be filled, for the paper must 'come out next .day. It struck me that \u25a0this letter 1 might, be a joke on the part of the great humorist, .but that implied "a cruelty which I knew was entirely /absent. {Rom Mark Twain's character. 1 So the confident tone of the letter puzzled me, and I advised the young , man -not- to build :too strongly oh it.' not to buy his ticket for Cali fornia, just yet\ a while and to await with patience the coming of the prom ised letter of introduction. . -'"He- brought the second letter to me with an -air of deep dejection. It was a long one, and I read It through twice carefully.; ' . . : ,'»You seem disappointed," I said. ."Oh, it's a sell; I -suppose I, deserve it, writing to a stranger," he replied. % "It isn't a-sell.. It's the most, sensible letter I ever read on the subject, and is worth tons of introductions. If you are wise you. will act on it.** *\u25a0 '. , THE FAMOUS LETTER He did, and Is today in /charge of one, of the leading papers in the east. I give here a synopsis of the letter as I' remember it: "You have selected a good paper, and It is ,the one I would have recom mended had the choice rested on me. In your dealings with the editor rigor ously conceal from him the fact that you - have been in correspondence with me. Nothing handicaps a young man on a newspaper so much as to have it known that he is there, not. on his own merits, , but through the influence of some one else. Go to the editor and say to him that you want a job on his paper. Say you are willing to work hard and that you don't want any salary. Say that you'll fill the ink bot tles, make the paste, keep the ex changes in neat piles, or do anything else required of you. Don't say that you want no salary at first, thus imply ing that salary is really what you are ultimately after; just disclaim all de sire for money and let it go at that. "Now, most people are generous when It doesn't. cost them anything. The. editor is a busy man. and he will grant you'what you want to get rid of you.' expecting you to come around next week and ask for a raise. But don't you do. it. You've got the thin edge of the wedge in, and that's what you need, g "When you're -outside the office keep your eyes and ears open. By and by v you'll see something happen, or you'll hear of an 'important matter. Write • lt ; up carefully once, twice or a dozen times if necessary, to get It Just right. Don't use . big words, or highfalutin language, but set down the. exact facts as tersely as you can, and when you've told what you know quit. Take this to the city editor, modestly, and say that you 1 don't know that" It is worth printing, but, anyhow, there it is, and he's welcome to it. and add that per haps one of the reporters can knock it into shape. ".When you see the item in next morning's paper, read it carefully. If : It has gone in as you -wrote it, then very likely you're on the right track; if It has been changed much, study the changes and learn something, j Do. this* right along, bringing in all you can to the city editor, just as if you loved him, and by and by — somebody will be drunk or.', will have failed him— he'll think of you and'send you oft on an assignment. Just throw all your powers into that; do the task cheerfully, promptly and as well as you know how. Then you'll get more assignments and.you'll meet the reporters of the othef papers and some 'time you'll' scoop the daylight out of them!. But even before that the^city ed itor will probably find a place for you on his staff,, not because a friend has recommended you, but because you have recommended yourself— and , % that's the best recommendation in the world. Then you'll get'your salary. Or some of the other papers will hear of you and will make you an offer, but don't take it — at least not right away. Always stick to your paper and give it the first chance. Go to your editor and tell him frankly about your offer, then you will find he does- one "of- two things. He may say. 'Well, we don't want to stand in the way of your -bettering yourself.' and that will mean that you haven't made such an impression upon him as you hoped to make, but if you have strictly followedmy advice the chances are that he will say: \u25a0 .:..-. ," •Why, we can pay as much as any other paper.' " '' "Then you stay where you are. lou re a- made j man and everything else de pends entirely on your own exer aia'rk Twain all his life followed the advice he gave and worked with ex treme care, putting forth nothing that wasvriot.as perfect, as he could make if telling. his stories as' tersely! as pos sible and '\u25a0 getting his effects with the tain pride in his wife's accomplishment and the plaudits of their guests. And if he is shrewd he will recognize It as a valuable ; business asset. For it gives her the-; entree \to many social circles, otherwise unapproachable, and attracts \u25a0to her home : many worth while people whose acquaintance will help : him to success. rßut ; onr abdicating, St. Cecelia "daffs the; -world aside and bids* lt pass." She glories in { narrowing V.«rself down to her little snail shell. Some day she will wake to % the fact that ; she needs the world - after, all, and then, perhaps, it 1 may ; be ? too late. ; She •; has been out of : touch too long."- Missing : the 1 breezy, .'exhilarating^ Influences, of . asoclatlon with i her- kind. I , she 'has grown warped,, \u25a0petty; and- Inflexible, 'h and her. original .Investments -of ; talent and charm have sadly depreciated. ' i and Ethels-and Gladyses, .your devotion" is but the ; blgotry N of con jugal belief. I The highest duty to. hus-. i band* and tfamilyiiricludes a'certainduty to VyourJ own; individuality. ,: Whatever Refreshes the. spirit a"nd;keeps the mind supple.Vcharltable- and ibrlght;: whatever : calls your, special* powers into- play and ;helps iyou.i cheerily } through .the' petty I round ; o'jirrltatlng domestic (concerns— j that* too.^ Is* part ! of your, duty. -^Whether it be a/dally ' hour." or t two', of "music, or of handicrafts : orjphilanthrophy, it- will •takejypu^ divinely \out>of Tyourself. It fwilirmake'cydufa'! younger,: happier and mqreinteresting companion' and a'mofe : liberal^nilnded; mother; no^lohger " a" 'mere ' hausf ra*u,l but a 5a s ; true helpmate rind : homejmaker.'^.Theri; slump : no^ mor^: my . " \u25a0_'..'• use of the fewest number of words. His day was usually from 11 until 4 or 4:30 o'clock, and he rarely wrote more than from 1,500 to I.SOO words In that time. He wrote on note paper, tearing off sheet after sheet aa he fin ished them. He worked in an atmos phere^ thick with tobacco smoke, most trying to the lungs of one coming in upon him -out of the fresh air. For years he never ate a midday meal, tak ing nofhinsc between breakfast and a 7 o'clock dinner. . - . His " 4;30 limit was purely theoret ical, and, if undisturbed, he was apt to work right on; once or twice In Florence he did 13 hours at a stretch, having bee.i forgotten, and when some one at last remembered him Mark was amazed to find how time had slipped away. 'On these days when, he was mislaid a tremendous amount of writ ing was accomplished. Mark Twain threw away more manu script than the average man has ever written; pigeonholing some of It on the chance that it might seem mora workable another time; tearing up what appeared hopeless. In writing "Tom Sawyer" he came to a deadwall at the five hundredth note paper page, and could proceed no further. Luckily he chose, the pigeonhole rather than the waste basket, and when, some- years later,' he read again the last few pages, the story ran right off the nib of his pen without further obstruction. *A l successful writer is a man to be envied. . He may live where ha pleases and it costs hint nothing to remove his factory, for his raw material Is under his hat; no government can tax it: his implement can be transported in his vest pocket. Mark Twain went everywhere, experienced many phases of life and saw most ofithe men of his time who were worth seeing. His often expressed admiration for General Grant led 'me to suspect that he esteemed this silent man perhaps more than any other with whom he -became ac quainted. , Grant's amazing memory was a con stant marvel to Mark Twain, who er roneously stated that he himself had no memory. For two hours every day? Grant used to dictate his memoirs to a stenographer, and Twain, who was often present.- said he never hesitated for a moment to recall anything, and seldom referred to notes or other doc uments, yet when afterward a histori cal expert went "over th 6 manuscript, by order of General Grant, to verify the details preparatory to publication, this expert found practically nothing to correct. General Grant. told Twain, when the latter spoke of his wonderful memory, that he had always been well served by it. In the 13 days duringr which the battles of the Wilderness were fought Grant had not time to take notes, yet after the fight he wrote his report to' the government from memory, and no inaccuracy was detect ed in It Twain's first and second meetings with Grant were eminently character istic of the two men. At a time when Mark Twain was unknown east of tha Rocky mountains and "when Grant was * newly in the presidential chair. Mark, then in Washington, happened to meet Senator "Bill" Stewart, who was oa his way to- the White House. "Wouldn't you like to come in. and see President Grant?" asked tha sen ator from Nevada. "Yes," said Twain, who thought there was probably a reception In progress, and that he would be privileged to stand in some remote corner and ad mire the great general from a distance. As a matter of fact Stewart was ex ercising his senatorial rights, and on entering the White House Twain was somewhat confused to find that they* had come upon the president entirely alone, humbly clad in a very ordinary everyday suit, the coat of which was a thin duster of black alpaca. He was* seated at his desk and looked 09 as the two men entered, his Impassive, face bearing no expression either of welcome or the reverse. • "Mr. \u25a0. President." said -Stewart airily, with a wave of the hand, "allow me to Introduce to you Mr. Samuel Clemens of Nevada." General Grant rose slowly, his eyes fixed on the newcomer, whose name ho now heard for < the first time. His face was as inscrutable as that of a bronze statue.' He extended his hand delib erately, took the proffered hand <Jf hl3 visitor, held it : for a moment, released it and sat solemnly .down again with out saying a word. The young man felt abashed and knew he was coloring up to the roots of his hair. There were a few moments of painful, un broken silence, then Clemens suddenly said: "Mr. President, I feel embarrassed; do you?" i; ; '.' : For the first time during the Inter view a glimmer of light came into the eyes of General Grant, but whether he intended to say anything Marls never knew. He bolted, leaving presi dent and senator alone together. "ARE YOU EMBARRASSED V* Years after came 1 the second meet ing. Mark Twain was in Chicago, and the G. A. R. was giving a reception to General Grant after his return from the tour around the world. The streets were packed, the hotels were packed— in a word, Chicago was packed with human beings. Twain was in one of the leading hotels, anxious to find a spot where he might breathe. He worked his way along the crowded cor ridor as well as he could, and at last got into a large room that was prac tically vacant, the guards who stood at the door recognizing him and al lowing him to pass through. There was a flag draped balcony over the seething street to which* the room gave access, and Mark naturally thought this would be a good, quiet spot from which to view the procession if no one else came. He stepped out and was received with cheers so deafening that he stood for a moment appalled, like a man who had Incautiously brought an avalanche on himself, but realizing that, soon they would dis cover they were barking up the wrons tree he said nothing about it. but took one of the vacant chairs in a secluded corner. Soon after he saw Carter Harrison, come through the room with General Grant on his- arm, and following two by two came some of the most dis tinguished men of the country. They all marched . out on the balcony, and now the cheers, as it seemed, might b© heard across the intervening states to the Atlantic. Finding he was in the wrong gallery, and taking advantage of the . uproar, - Mark Twain attempted to do what tha general had never done, beat aru ignominious retreat, tiptoeing toward the window, when Carter Harri son caught sight of him. "Hold on, Mark!" he cried. "You're not going to sneak off Hike that. Come and be introduced to the general." Then, seizing the shrinking man by the arm, he dragged him forward, saying: "General Grant, allow me to .intro duce to you Mr. Samuel I* Clemens." The general • put out hfs; hand more cordially than he had done on the first occasion, and with a humorous twinkle in his eye said: "Mr. Clemens. I'm embarrassed; are you?" Mark^Twain often deplored the fact that. his memory wa3 not a3 good < as that of General. Grant. In the historical research necessary for, such books as "Joan of Arc" and "The Prince and the Pauper" Twain. had to . use his facts at once or. they would be forgotten. While he was -working at the latter book a summer holiday intervened and he went away. On returning. some of the books he had>sed>ere missing and he 'could not remember any of; the data for which tie-: had read them; r ;thus he was com pelled either. to slur over" the historical -points' in question of; read' everything up," again.. which' second "course of action . he'patiently performed. f