Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1883-01-04
TrOllOpe and Twain.

Joaquin Miller, writing to the Som
erville IN. j. Un,onist, says: II must
say one word respecting friend just
parted-Anthony Trollope. A strong
man was he, with great, good human
heart. A power has gone out from
London. A grand, steady and sterling
nature, and honest in all he did and
said. There is little of the fash and
sensation order of things to facinate and
fill the journals of to-day. And SO tits
this substantial pillar, which once bore
more of London on its shoulders than
most men know or London is willing to
concede, has passed away and little is
said. Strange he should have died so
sudden and so soon, for physically he
was the largest and most powerful of q
large and powerful race of men. He
always visited me on horseback in
dense old London-the East Side and
most humble quarter of the city-and,
mounted OH horse as large and pow
ertul proportionately as himself, he was
the marvel of the denizens as he slowly
rode through the crowded and dingy
streets. He was very partial to his
saddle, and had spent years on horse
back in Australia, where his sons, or
most of them, are settled. and are now
engaged in raising sheep far in the in
terror. He had rode all over South
America and Mexico, and while, I think,
he had little admiration for my writ
ings, he liked my preference for the
saddle, and we often rode together.
He did not like my big, snowy Mexi-
can saddle, however; and on my insist
ing on its superior advantages, he ar
ranged that I should come to his coun-
try place, where he would furnish the
horses, and we could put the qualities
of our respective saddles to the test.
~ remember at a dinner at the Gar
rick Club, which he had given to Mark
Twain and myself, he rode his favorite
hobby, the saddle, almost to the verge
of anger. You see Mark Twain was
then lecturing, or about to lecture, on
Riding the Mustang Trollope began
talking riding with the soup, and en-
deavored hard to draw the great hu-
morist out and get the advantage of his
long experience with the mustang in
the far West. But Mark was silent
and very thoughtful. He eessayed once
or twice to talk about Jerusalem, and
leven made some faint allusions to the
old masters; he went off eloquently on
the weather two or three times. But he
left the discussion of the question en-
tirely to Trollope and myself, greatly
to the disappointment of the former.
"After dinner as we sauntered back
to Marks hotel (the Edwards, ST.
Georges Square), where be was living
in great state on the same floor with
Disraeli. Mark pulled me up sudden.
ly under a lamp-post, and said in bis
dry, slow and iniIaitable way: Look
here, old boy, now why didn't you help
: me out of that hoss business, eh?'
"'Didn't knew you wanted any help
Mark
"Well, now, did you see me trying
to talk about Jerusalem, and the
weather, and the state Of future pun.
ishments? Why, look here.' And he
pulled out of his vest pocket short
dozen of little bits of pastboard. See
them? Tickets for that riding school
in Queen street, down by Hyde Park.
I bought dozen of 'em the other day.
Have eleven left. Take 'em; take
r 'em all. I'll never go back there as
long as I live. I've used one. / got
on one of the old mares there and she
scraped me eff, aud I won't go back
there no more
"'What,' said I, don't you know
9 how to ride?'
:, "'Never was on horse before, and
never will be again. But, you see, as
am lecturing on how to ride.a mus.
tang, thought ought to know some
think about horses. But know
enough
"'But,' said /, as we parted, you
don't mean to tell me you know moth.
ing about horses?.'
Nothing, nothing at all, and don't
want to-. You see, I'm steamboat
man.