The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1886-10-01
a. WAS FULL OF NERVES.
Mark TyFain's narrowing Experiences with
Mice and other Monsters.

Mr.. Stsve Gil is, printer and journalist,
was tae friend and room mate of Mark
Twain in the old days when the latter
was a reporter on the Call says the San
Francisco Post. They had likewise sut-
fered and triumpbed together in the
saCe5rush, the dusty green foliage Of
which they frequently succeeded In
turning to bright red Mark was and
IS q very nervous man. Small annoy
snces robbed his life Of sweetness and
jirht. Stephen had no nerves and il gave
ril a malIgn pleasure to experiment
upon those Of Mr.. Clemens
Steve" cried Mark, in an agonized
voice. shaking his bedfellow out of an
a9ua-ently profound siumber, do you
nsa- that mOuse-that Internal, gnawing
mouse? It's driving me Wild
" Oh hang the mouse, growlet Gillis,
tuning over and snoring Ostentatiously.
I wasn't a mouse, but little machine
which Stephen was privately ". riling
with q string for the benevolent purpose
of tO-tuCing his friend.
Mark lay and writhed and cursed and
gnashed his teeth He cried slOO and
beat upon the headboard. He got up
and threw things under the bed, and
walked around the room and wruug his
hands and mOistene1 Els profanity with
tears of iuapOtent exa7pe-a.On.
The mouse still gaawe1 and Twain put
on his clothes and went form and paced
the streets till morning, leaving MS tor
mentor TO re-el il bee.
Halo, Sam. what cave YOU been do
tnc?" asked Gillis another night, startled
out Of real sleep this time and sitting up
IN bed And no wonder he was startled.
Mark, undressed, had ju-t entered the
room. In his hand he held a Japanese
sword, as sharp as a razor, priced gift
from Bavard Taylor. This weapon was
F dripping with blood. The clock struck
midnight.
He'll never crow again, exulted the
assassin; but even as he crawled into
" bed the offending rooster sent forth a
cock-a-doodle-do that caused Mark to
give a howl of foiled vengeance and bury
his head under the Oiaakets-
In the morning il vas discovered that
his one furious strOE9 n the chicken
house had bereft eigat mems Of their
heads, but the rooster aa1 escaped. he
owed his life 70 the ICr-Iuate clrcum-
stance that he slept-Or rather crOwed-
at the end of the perch iaTtlesJ from the
door Of the coop.
steve Steve, I say wake up!" came
a hoarse and furious whisper at z An.
Mr.. Gillis awoke ard 5eheld Mr.
Clemens, clad only in MS shirt, standing
by the open window. The night wa;
cold, and Mr.. Clemens was shiverine
violently. In his shaking hand was
revolver.
Steve" he pleaded, you're warn
and your nerve is good. Get up anC
shoot this cat for me. I've been out il
the yard for an hour trying to get bea'
on the brute, and now that he's there ol
the fence 1 can't kill him-Oh, knoy
that can kill him! Getup, Steve, do.
ooh, let the C. alone.
What? You won't get Up2 Then
Steve GilIis, III shoot you. I'm shaky
but can do that if 1 can't hit cat =
And Mr. Gllis arose and slew the ca
in self-defense, and Mark Twain wen
out and brought in bottle and sat u
till sunrise to celebrate the execution.
Mark Twain and Dan De Quille roome
together in early COmstock days, On
morning Dan missed his boots, and ate
a vain arch ha suspiciously inquired
VI rz. who was lying in bed, laziIy smc
ing 2 clas p.ge-
Mara | can't find my boots. Do y
know anything about 'emr
Your boois?" cOmplacently reph
Mark. Well, yes; l threw them
that cat that was yowling around
house last nj htH'
Threw my boots at the cat" howl
Dan in a rage. why didn't you thr
your own boOts?'
" Dan, " said Mark, after a reflect
puff or two; Dan, if there IS anythl
hate 1t is a selfish man. have
served of late that you are growing S
fish What difference does it ms
whose boots were thrown at that c
Dan, beware OF selfishncss. It is
most contemplate trait in human
ture"