The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1906-11-09
A APOLOGY.
Mark Twain's Story of Sweet Though
Long Delayed Revenge.

Long Delayed Revenge.
NY experience as an author began
early in 1867. I came to New York
from San Francisco in the first month
of that year, and presently Charles Fl.
Webb, whom | had known in San
Francisco as q reporter on the Bulletin
and afterward editor of the Califor-
MAN, suggested that l publish a volume
of sketches. l had but a slender repu-
tation to publish it on, but l was
charmed and excited by the suggestion
and quite willing to venture it if some
industrious person would save me the
trouble of gathering the sketches to-
gether. l was loath to do it myself,
for from the beginning of my s%ojOurD
in this world there was a persistent
vacancy in me where the industry
ought to be. ('Ought to was" is better
perhaps, though the most of the au-
thorities differ as to this.)
Webb said | had some reputation in
the Atlantic states, but 1 knew quite
well that it must be of a very attenu-
ated sort. What there was of it rested
upon the story Of 1.-THE Jumping
Frog" When Artemus Ward passed
through California on a lecturing tOuI
in 1865 or '66 1 told him the jumping
Frog story in San Francisco, and he
asked me to write it out and send ii
to his publisher, Carleton, in New
York, to be used in padding ont a
z-.,n I~oI r-IIol tLoro,,o hCI nra
pared for the press and which needed
some more stuffing to make it big
enough for the price which w&s to be
charged for it.
Webb had made an appointment for
me with Carleton. Otherwise | never
should have got over that frontier.
Carleton rose and said brusquely and
aggressively:
well, what can I do for your
1 reminded him that I was there by
appointment to offer him my book for
publication. He began to swell and
went on swelling and swelling and
swelling until he had reached the di-
mansions of a god Of about the second
vi llIlIu uCNICC. hNh InC
of his great deep were broken up, and
for two or three minutes l couldn't see
him for the rain. 1t was words, only
words, but they fell SO. densely that
they darkened the atmosphere. Finally
he made an imposing sweep with his
right hand, which comprehended the
whole room, and said:
"Books-look at those shelves! Every
one of them is loaded with books that
are waiting for publication. Do L want
any more? Excuse me, I don't. Good
morning"
Twenty-one years elapsed before !
saw Carleton again. 1 was then So
journing with my family at the
Schweitzerhof, in Luzerne. He called
on me, shook hands cordially and said
at once without any preliminaries:
81 am substantially an obscure per.
son, but I have at least n distinction
to my credit of such colossal dimen-
sions that it entities me to immOrtali-
ty-to wit, I refused a book of yours.
and for this 1 stand without com
petitor as the prize ass of the nine
teenth century"
1t was a most handsome apology, and
l told him so, and said it was a long
delayed revenge, but was sweeter tc
me than any other that could be de-
vised; that during the lapsed twenty
one years 1 had in fancy taken his life
times every year and always
in new and increasingly cruel and in
human ways, but that now 1 "a paci-
fed, %appeased, happy, even jubilant.
and that ~thenceforth 1 should hold him
my true and valued friend and never
kill him again.-North American Re,
view.