St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1886-07-31
HE WAS FUEL OF NERVES.
Mark TWain's Narrowing Expe-
riences with Mice and Other Mon

. MARK n Wa1n7S narrowing FXpe-
rienees with Mice and Other Mon
STEERS.
Chicago News.
Mr.. Steve ellis. printer and journalist,
was the friend and roommate of Mark
Twain in the old days when the latter was
a reporter on the San Francisco Post.
They had likewise suffered and triumphed
together in the sagebrush, the dusty green
foliage of which they frequently succeeded
in turning to bright red. Mark was and
is very nervous man. Small annovances
robbed his life of sweetness and light.
Stephen had no nerves and it gave him a
malign pleasure to experiment upon those
of Mr.. Clemens.
''Steve," cried Mark in an agonized
voice, shaking his bedfellow out of an ap-
parently profound Slumber, ''do you hear
that mouse-that internal, gnawing mouse?
It's driving me wild"
''Oh, hang the mouse" growled ellis,
turning over and snoring ostentatiously.
1t wasn't mouse, but a little machine
which Stephen was privately working with
a string for the benevolent purpose of tor
turing his friend.
Mark lay and writhed and cursed and
CRASHED his teeth. He cried shoe and beat
upon the headboard. He got up and threw
things under the bed, and walked around
the room and wrung his hands and moist
ened his profanity with tears of impotent
evaporation. The mouse still gnawed and
Twain put Oh his clothes and went forth
and paced the streets till morning, leaving
his tormentor to revel in bed.
''Hallo, Sam, what have you been do
ing?" asked ellis another night. startled
out of real sleep this time and sitting up in
bed. And no wonder he was startled
Mark, undressed, had just entered the
room. In his hand he held a Japanese
sword, as sharp as a razor, priced gift
from Bayard Taylor. This weapon was
dripping with blood. The clock struck
midnight.
oh him, 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 howl of foiled vengeance and bury
his head under the blankets. In the morn
ing it was discovered that his one furious
stroke in the chicken house had bereft
eight hens of their heads, but the rooster
had escaped. He owed his life to the
fortunate circumstance that he slept-or
rather crowed-at the end of the perch
farthest from the door of the coop.
Steve! Steve, L say! wake up!'' came a
voice and furious whisper at a. m.
Nh. ellis awoke and beheId Mr. Clemens,
clad only in his shirt, standing by the open
window. The night was cold and Mr..
Clemens was shivering violently. In his
shaking hand was revolver.
Steve" he pleaded, you're warm and
your nerve is good. Get up and shoot this
cat for me. Eve been out in the yard for
al hour trying to get bead on the brute.
and now that he's there on the fence | can't
kill him-oh, [ know that | can't kill him.
Get up, Steve. do"
'Oh, let the cat alone''
What? You wont get up? Then, Steve
ellis. I'll shoot you. Pm shaky, but [ can
do that if l can't hit the cat!'
And Mr.. ellis arose and slew the cat in
self defense, and Mark Twain went out
and brought in bottle and sat up till sun
rise to celebrate the execution.
Mark Twain and Dan De guile roomed
together in early Comstock days. One
morning Dan missed his boots, and. after a
vain search, he suspiciousIy inquired OF
Mark, who was lying in bed, lazily smok-
ing clay pipe: Mark, [ can't find my
boots. Do you ~now anything about em?'
Your boots?" complacently replied
Mark "Well. yes; threw them at that
blasted cat that was yowling around the
house last nights
Threw my boots at the catr' howled
Dan in rage. Why in h didn't you
throw your own boots?"
Dan" said Mark after reflective puff
or two; Dan, if there is anything | bate
it Is selfish man. | have observed of late
that you are growing selfish. What differ
ence does it make whose boots were thrown
at the cat? Dan, beware Of selfishness.
1t is the most contemplate trait in human
nature"