The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1894-06-17
cAN,r DIscoNrENr HIN.


election, one night, at Buffalo, for in
stance, he prefaced an imprOmptu speech
by remarking:
Il notice many changes since I was a
citizen of Buffalo. I miss the faces of
many old friends. They have gone to the
tomb-to the gallOws-to the white house.
Thus far the rest of US have escaped; but
be sure that our turn is coming. Over US,
with awful certainty, hangs one or an
other of these fates. The wise among US
viii prepare for them all"
he BELIEVES IN THE ANECDOTE.
He considered the anecdote about as
high a kind of humor as exists. The
students of Bryn Mawr college in Penn
sylvania made him an honorary member
said he really did not deserve the honor
as his education had neglected him, but
that now it had been thrust upon him his
ambition had been fired and he wanted
I to be not only member of a Bryn
Mawr class, but member of the Bryn
Mawr faculty. Il should like to be-" he
said, "a professor of anecdote. It's very
useful art. IN give you lesson. One
/ kind of anecdote contains only words
| You talk till you're tired and then YOU
ring in a laugh-if you're lucky III
illustrate this plan by an anecdote of q
Scotch-Irish christening. In this Scotch
| Irish village a baby had been born, and d
large number of friends had collected to
see il christened. The minister. thinking
this a good opportunity to display his
oratOrical powers, took the baby in his
hand, saying:
" He is little fellow, yes, little fel-
low, and as | look into your faces l see an
expression of scorn that suggests that
| YOU despise him But if you had the soul
OF a poet and the gift of prophecy you
would not despise him. You would look
far into the future and see what it might
be. Consider how small the acorn is
from which grows the mighty oak. So
this little child may be a great poet and
write tragedies, or great statesman, or
perhaps a future warrior wading in blood
up to his neck; he may be-er-what is
his namel'
His name2' asked the mother, who
had been carried away by the preachers
eloquence, oh, Mary Ann, sir. -
HOW HE WRITES HIS STORIES.
This is the way he writes his stories:
II have one unfinished book on hand :"
he said. st is The Diary of Shem in the
Ark began it about seventeen years
ago, and if live seventeen years longer
think that shall be able TO finish it.
wrote the first six chapters in Edinburgh
Since then have taken it up and laid it
down half dozen time.
ITS a strange thing about stories," he
said "You have your ideas, your facts,
your plot, and you go to work on your
book and write yourself up. You use all
the material you have in your brain and
| then you STOP naturally. Well, lay the
book aside and go TO work on something
else.
After awhile, three or four months.
say, or perhaps three or four years, some
thing suggests that old story to you, and
you feel a sudden awakening of interest
| in it. And then, 10 and behold You
fr1 e i 60.
| been replenished, and your mind is full of
your subject again, and you must write,
your brain is overlooking and you finish
your boOk-if you are lucky"
SEQUEL TO tom SAWYER"
1t will interest most people to know
| that MIR. Clemens has contemplated a
sequel to Tom Sawyer" 1t, of course
/ ought not to be said, because of the nature
of the man, that he has contemplated 1t
seriously He says he has had two in
| SEPARATIONS about it; one being to let
Sawyer grow to a manhood of great
power, riches, congress, marriage to
! Judge Thatcher's daughter and all that
sort Of thing; and the other being to let
Sawyer grow to manhood and-hang
him.
TIE ORIGINAL 'ToM"
AS charming bit of Twain lore as l
ever came across was printed in some far
| western paper many years ago. I have
| the yellow clipping and shall insert il
here because it is in the words of the liv-
ing original of the character, whom Mr.
Twain may let grow into a congressman
| or hang. Tom Sawyer keeps tor kept at
the time this was written) liquor and
cigar store at No. 935 Mission street, San
Francisco. He remarked:
Yes, it was after me that Sam"-he
! always calls Mr.. Clemens Sam'-named,
his book, and told him lots of things
that he put in it, too You see, we used
to knock around a good deal together.
me and Sam, and we was
always tellin' each other
stories. Sam was dandy He could drink
more and talk more than any other Teller |
ever seen. He'd set down in a chair and
take drink, and then he'd begin to tell
US some joke or mother, and then some
/ bOdy'd buy another drink and he'd tell us
another joke. Once he got started he'd
set there all night. The crowd would al
ways stay as long as he did, too. Yes
sir; l tell you that Sam was the greatest
story teller the world has ever produced
am not prepared to say how he sizes up
as liar, but think that he could hold
his own that way, too. But there
Twas so many liars fioatin' around them
days you never could exactly place EN-
used to lie some myself. You see, had
70 be in the game But never tried to
He was worzin on the Call. He never
hada cent and most of the time his shoes
were worn out and his clothes needed
patchin.' But he. didn't care. They d
send him out down at the paper to write
something up, and he'd go up to the Russ
House and sit around telling stories all
day. Then he'd go back to the office and
write up what he'd been sent out for.
Most times it was all wrong, but mighty
entertainin' But believe his city editor
SAID he was unreliable.
SAM CAME HIGH.
"He used to cost me about $50 a month.
You see, he was such a good fellow, and
he didn't seem able to look out much for
himself, and | sorter took care of him
He never had cent and / used to pay
for most of his clothes. / often hear from
him now. He's comm out here some
time, he says.
Il suppose you know how he come to
get the name of Mark Twain? No! Well
it was up in. Virginia City, away back in
1860. Tom Peasley was keepin' a saloon
there then and Larry Ryan was tendin'
bar. Sam had been drinkin some and
spent all his money, Maybe he'd gone
against faro bank a little, too; but any
way, he was busted and thirsty. He
knew Tom and Larry both Just as well as
| ANYBODY and he'd HING no many a drinL Z