Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1907-01-17
Mark Twain Turned Down.

My experiences as an author began
early in 1867. / came to New York
from San Francisco in the first month
Of that year and presently Charles II.
Webb, whom l had known in San
Francisco az a reporter on The Bulle-
tin, and afterward editor of The Cali
fornian, suggested that l publish
volume of sketches. l had but
slender reputation to publish fit on. but
1 was charmed and excited by the sug-
gestion and quite willing TO venture 1t
/ if some Industrious person would save
me the trouble of gathering the
sketches together. l was 'loath to do it
myself, for from the beginning of my
sojourn in this world there was a
persistent vacancy in mc where the
industry ought to be. ('Ought to was
is better. perhaps. though the most OF
the authorities differ as to this.)
Webb said l had some reputation in
the Atlantic States. but l knew quite
we'll that it must be of q very ait
tenuatcd sort. What there was of it
rested upon the story Of THE Jumping
Frog" When Artemus Ward passed
through California ON Il lecturing tour,
In 1855 or &c. l told him the Jumping
Frog" story in San Francisco. and he
asked me to write it out and send it to
his publisher, Carleton, in New York,
to be used in padding out small book
which Artemus had prepared for the
press and which needed some more
stuffing to make it big enough for the
price which was to be charged for it.
Webb had made an appointment for
me with Carleton: otherwise I never
should have gotten over that frontier
Carleton rose and said brusquely and
|aggressively:
well. what can I do for you?'
/ reminded him that l 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 dimensions of god of
about the second or third degree
Then the fountains 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 i'm
posing sweep with his right hand,
which comprehcndcd 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, l don't.
Good morning..
Twcnty-One years elapsed before l
saw Carleton again. l was then
sojourning with my family at the
Schweitzerhof, in Luzernc. He called
on me, shook hands cordially, and said
at once, without any preliminaries.
Il am substantially an obscure per-
son, but I have at least one distinction
to my credit of such colossal dimen-
sions that il entities me to Immortality
to wit: | refused a book OF yours,
and for this l stand without COM
petitor as the prize ass Of the nine
teonth century,"
1t was most handsome apology. and
told him so. and said it was a long
delayed revenge but was swecter to me
than any other that could be devised;
that during the lapscd twenty-one
years l had in fancy taken his life
several times every year, and always in
new and increasingly cruel and in
human ways, but that now | was
pacified, appeased. happy. even
jubilant: and that thenceforth I should
hold him my true and valued friend
and never kill him again-The North
American Review.