The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1870-08-26
Sfliscr(lanrous.
A MEMORY.
BY MARK TWAIN.

When say that l never knew my
austere father to be enamored of bu:
one poem in all the long century that he
lived,persons who knew him will easily
believe me; when l say that L have
never composed but one poem in all the
long third of century that 1 have
lived, persons who knew me will be
sincerely grateful; and finally, when 1
say the poem which composed was not
the one which my father was enamored
of, persons who may have known us
both will not need to have this truth
shot into them with mountain how
itzer before they can receive it. My
father and / were always on the most
distant terms. was boy--a sort OF
armed neutrality, so to speak. AT ir-
regular intervals this neutrality was
broken, and suffering ensued; but /
will be candid enough to say that the
breaking and the suffering were always
divided up with strict impartiality be-
tween us-which is to say my father
did the breaking, and / did the suffer-
ing. AS a general thing was back
ward, cautious, unadventurous boy; but
| once | jumped Off q tWo-story stable;
another time | gave an elephant plug
of tabacco and retired without waiting
for an answer; and still another time /
pretended to be talking in my sleep,
and got off a portion of very wretched
original conundrum in hearing of my
father. Let us not pry into the result,
it was ofno consequence to any one but
me.
But the poem I have referred to as
attracting my fathers attention and
achieving his favor was "Hiawatha." !"
Some man who courted a sudden and
awful death presented him with an ear
ly copy, and never lost faith in my
own senses until l saw him sit down
and go to reading it in cold blood-saw
him open the book and heard him read
these following lines, with the same in
tlecuonless judicial frigidity with
which he always read his charge to the
jury, or administered an oath to a wit
ness:
Take your bow, Hiawatha,
Take your arrows, Jasper-headed,
Take your war-club, Puggawabsun,
And your mittens, Minjekahwan,
And your birch canoe for sailing
And the Oil of Mlshe-Nama."
Presently my father took out of his
breast pocket an imposing warranty
Deed" and fixed his eyes upon it and
dropped into meditation. knew what
it was. A Texan lady and gentleman
had given my half brother, Orin John
son, handsome property in town in
the North, in gratitude to him for hav-
ing saved their lives by an act of bril-.
liant heroism.
By and by my father looked toward
me and sighed. Then he said:
"lf had such a son as this poet, here
were a subject worthier than the tradi-
tlons Of these Indians"
"If you please, sir, where"
"In this deed"
"In the-deed
"Yes-in this very deed" said my
father, throwing it on the table. "There
is more poetry, more romance, more
sublimity, more splendid imagery hid
den away in that homely document
than could be found in 1.-THE traditions
of all the savages that live"
"Indeed, sir? Could I-could get it
out, sir? Could l compose the poem,
sir do you think"
"YouW
wilted
Presently my fathers face softened
somewhat, and he said:
$50 and try. But mind, curb folly.
No poetry at the expense of truth. Keep
strictly to the facts"
l said would, and bowed myself out
and went up stairs.
"Hiawatha" kept dreaming in my
head-and so did my fathers remarks
about the sublimity and romance hid
den in my subject, and also his ipjunc-
tion to beware of wasteiul and exuber-