The Norfolk weekly news-journal. (Norfolk, Neb.) 1900-19??, 1910-08-12
Mark Twain In Private Life.

Mark Twain In Private Life.
Frank Haywood in the New York
Evening Post; Mark Twain has been
spoken of as possessing no semblance
of humor when in general conversa-
ton or "out in company" / do not
know whether this may be true or not,
but one does not expect to see flint
give, off sparks unless brought sharply
into contact with steel; one cannot
even be expected to rise to the occa-
sion" at all times and set off joke as
you would rocket.
knew Mark Twain fairly well. My
acquaintance with him began thirty
years ago, somewhere in the '70s, quite
accidentally, while travelling to New
York from Elmira. On the first oc-
casion we met in the comfortable
smoking room of one of the broad
gauge cars of the Erie railway, which
once distinguished that road from
others, but which have long since been
discontinued for the standard gauge.
He was returning from Elmira, where
Mrs. Clemens had lately presented
her liege with daughter-the second.
He mentioned the fact in the course
of the ride, and while | had known of
the baby's arrival, | did not know its
sex. | congratulated him, of course,
and ventured to ask, Mr.. Clemens, is
the first Mark?" Without a change
of expression, but with slight twin
kle in his gray eye, he replied: mo,
this makes the Twain"
l always found him very pleasant
company-good in repartee and sell
dom given to ill-natured criticisms,
which, if ever INDUCED in We're used
with a sugGr-coating that effectually
removed the possibly bitter taste.
On another occasion we met on an
Erie train at Elmira, with Dan of I'm
nocents Abroad" association. We
were again seated in the smoking com
partment and enjoying Marks cigars.
| He seemed rather quiet and not in.
clined to talk much. Dan rallied him
on his unusual reticence, when Mark
slowly replied:
The fact is, fellows, | have just re-
turned from a lecturing tour in the
middle west, and | may as we'll say
right here that the closing nights were
not what a press agent would call a
bowling success, so far as audiences
were concerned. Why, if you'll be-
lieve me, at lecture the other week
in a town of six thousand souls-at
least ] suppose they had souls-there
were not over fifty of them in the
hail.
|. We smiled audibly.
We'll" | remarked consolingly, Il
suppose the rest of the people were
at home reading 'Innocents Abroad
and forgot all about the lecture"
That's very kind, and a useful sug-
gestion, but | would hate like the
dickens to chance house-to-house
canvass to ascertain if that were so;'
then, after a few vigorous puffs, he
continued, Il only heard from one
man in that town, and he had got my
name mixed up with George Francis
Trains, and was heard to declare that
he wouldn't travel ten feet to see that
mountebank prance around the stage
in his blue swallow-tailed coat, with
brass buttons, not even on a pass.
have wondered when and how he dis
covered his mistake, and if he did sc
unaided. But, that he did finally get
Strengthened out was evidenced by the
letter | received from him later which
read something like this:
"'Geo. F. Clements. Dear Sir:
am awful sorry that | didn't meet you
when you was in town. Have always
thought would like to see someone
who had been to the little graveyard
where Adam was buried. So you was
some relation to him, hey? Well
well!'"
1t has been my good fortune to have
always found Clemens a genial trav
cling companion and l generally en-
joyed his stories when told by himself
quite as much as those printed in his
books and the magazines, and none
were more unctuously told than those
relating to the experiences on his
pleasure excursion" to the Holy LanC
on the Quaker City in June, 1867.