The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1871-01-21
That Book Agent-Mark Twain Kill
Ing the Goose that Laid His Golden

That Book Agent-Mark Twain Kill
Ing the Goose that Laid His Golden
Egg.
He was man of middle age, mild man.
ners, ana benevolent aspect, and Withal
one OF the most eminently amiable and un-
conscious Of bores. In bis least disagreed
BILE phase, one of his viSitations was enough
to reconcile its victim to the minor annoy.
ance of east winds and smoky chimneys, or
toothache but he was too TRANQUILITY self
reliant to find that out without aid, and so
for years he travelled from house to house
as uncon>ciously obtrusise and unintention-
allv offensive as the measles or any other
mild endemic. He was blindly imper-
turbable variety of "the pestilence that
Walketh aU MONDAY" and rude or ungra-
cious welcome wouldn't discomfort him any
more than it would brass mounted reve-
nue. assessor.
This mollusk started in life as a peddler
Of salye, and descended, by easy gradations
through the stoye-damDer, windoW. catch,
washing. huid, and stencil-pate -eras, that
diversity The downward career Of most itin-
erantvenders. Those pursuits were, doubt
less, eminently calculated to bring his liter
airy taste to Il high state of cultivation; but
unhappilg he had quite neglected to profit
by his opportunities. His uttef and con-
tented ignorance Of literature naturally
suggested the splendid possibilities that
awaited him in the book trade; so when
he found the stencil business too bewilder-
ing to his intellect, he calmly and conf
dently drappCG INTO hook canYasain3. 49,
He was not u tirst.rate judge of authors,
and his literary discrimination seldom
straved beyond the pictures and binding
without being ingloriously swamped. A
flavor of the old saIve and washing fluid was
always pelceptible in his discussion Of
books and authors. used to experience o
melancholy pleasure in persuading him to
descant on the merits Of Shakspeare's Black
Crook, or MunchauSen's Dictionary, or
Dickens on Logarithms, or r. W. Emer-
sons Nursery Tales. He could expatiate
on those works or any others that reck-
lessly suggested, just as lucidly and delight
fully as he could on those toc which he was
canFassing; more so, indeed, for he felt
more CLANCY freen when there were no
books around.
He often declared that when Shakespeare
wrote another book he would try and geS
tho agency, though he chad IN idea that
Shakespeare wasn't quite match for Head
ley or Smucker." He thought that children
might like Emerson, he was so plain and
simple like but grown folks generally like
solid literature, like !'New York by Gas
light" or GA Thousand Things Worth
Knowing"
I suppose it was his invincible and re-
morseless assiduity that enabled him to SUBJ
due his victims. He had way of pouring
himself out, in a ceaseless wish-Wash of
prepared platitudes and canned twaddle
capable, verify believe, of wearying a
bronze statue of William Pitt into the pur-
,h,co IF hbnfc Nurnlaop Aud tho
more summer it took the better he liked to
fight it out on that line. I once tried to
battle him by passive endurance, but in the
sixth hour of his Grafton his enjoyment of
its superhuman eloquence had become 80
keen that / had to subscribe for an extra
copy before he would consent to stop.
That igpomious failure of the Fabian
policy sealed my doom. / never recovered
an atom of confidence in any ability to
stem the tide Of his tireless loquaclty, and
thereafter he saw in me only a reliable
market for subscription literature. He
overwhelmed me with volume after volume
of pictorial imbecility and pathos in gold
binding. My small capital was gradually
absorbed by the ruinous accumulation of
Napoleon and bis Marshals," Everybody
Else and his Marshals, notorious Crimi-
nails, Libels on the Presidents, Family BIZ
Dies WIFI CaIl;aIuIes, Wletcucu pdIouies oLi
Universal History, solemn burlesques of
the Patriarchs, and other illustrated and
absurd trumpery imposed upon me by that
remorseless agent.
My family was actually reduced to a
verge of want by the vampires repeated
drafts upon me. l tried in vain to raise
little money out of my books. The consta.
BILE even refused to levy on them for gro
GERS bill, and returned the execution un.
satisfied, because mans library was ex-
empt, and he didn't 6 want to get in no
trap" Presenting upon my utter thral.
to buv set of Patent Office Reports, and
had to borrow the money to pay him for
them. The next time he called cast my
sell, haggard, care-Worn suppliant, at his
feet. and implored him to let up on me, in
mercy TO my suffering. starving family.