The daily morning journal and courier., 1896-05-02
MIRK THIIN.
Rev. Dr. Joseph TwitchelI of Hartford Tells of Him Some Interesting Things.

Rev. Dr. Joseph TwitchelI of Hartford
 Tells of Him Some Interesting Things.
 Tn the summer of 'S2," says Rev, Dr. Joseph Twichell of Hartford in liar per's, while small party of Ameri- can tourists were being shown about Chester cathedral by special favor out of the usual hours, one of them, ad- miring the antiquities of the place, ad- dressed to the kind clergyman of the cathedral staff, who was their guide, the regulation remark:
 This is something that we have not in our country"
 Yes" was the reply; but then you have things that we have not
 What, for instance?" inquired the other.
 Well, you have Mark Twain and Harpers MagaZine.''
 (The writer, who was there-who, in fact, was in the solemn ly assures the suspicious reader that the answer is not in the slightest par ticular edited for present use.)
 The estimate of Mark Twain as a feature of America thus denoted was an index of the position to which, in the regard ot very wide world, he had at that time and before that time attained The same has long been wit messed by similar signs. Mozoomdar of India, the first time he came to this country, wished to meet him. It has been the case for more than twenty years that no parsonage, however emi- nent, has appeared anywhere in public, on whatever occasion, in England or in America, with whom Mark Twain, if in his company, did not divide the attention of the crowd. During that period the list of people of high distinc- tion, in this and in other lands, states men, divines, authors, artists, who have counted it fortunate to be his private guests, has been very numerous one; while he in turn has been, at home and abroad, the favored guest of many such. It was about the time of the in cident with which we begun that the Marquis of Lorne, while governor gen. eral of Canada, on behalf of the Prin- cess Louise and himself, solicited and ! received visit from him of several days at Ottawa
 He has not been wanting in the per- sonal homage of the humber admirers. Every now and then a representative of them, usually from a distance, rings his door-bell and asks the privilege of paying him his respects, which is all ways cheerfully granted Not long since caller of that class, big, good natured countryman-a butcher, as he introduced himself-after few min utes chat asked:
 Now tell me for fact, are you the one who wrote all them books ?" Truly am" said aMrk.
 "Of course you are! Of course you are!" cried the honest fellow; but, by George, I shouldn't think it from your looks!' Whereat Mark was hugely < tickled.
 Mark Twain's habits of literary work are something between regular and ir- regular. He is not a steady everyday workman yet for the impulse of writ ing he does not depend greatly on moods. It does not require a contract uscript lie in his pigeon-holes that have never gone to the printer
 Once started on a task, he usually concentrates himself upon it and hangs to it with unrelaxing assiduity till it is finished. To save himself from inter- ruption at such times, he has been known to hide in a neighbours house, concealing his retreat from his wife and children even, that they might be able to say they did not know where he was.
 While most of his work has been done in Hartford, in the third-story billiard room, which is his study there Cor vice versa), and some also abroad, his fla vorite place for writing has of late years been a little outdoor lodge built for him at Quarry Farm, near Elmira, N. Y., where he has been accustomed to spend the summer with his family Of this workshop he wrote, when he first took possession of it:
 ''It is the loveliest study you ever saw. It is octagonal with a peaked roof, each face filled with a spacious window, and it sits perched in com plete isolation on top of an elevation that commands leagues of valley and city and retreating ranges of distant blue hills. It is a cosy nest, with just room in it for a sofa and a table and three or four chairs; and when the storms sweep down the remote valley and the lightning flashes above the hills beyond, and the rain beats upon the roof over my head-imagine the luxury Of it,"