Arizona republican., 1910-08-05
MARK TWAIN IN PRIVATE LIFE.

Mark Twain has been spoken of as possessing no semblance of humor when in general conversation or "out in company" I do not know whether this may be true or not, but enc does not expect to see flint give off sparks unless brought sharply into contact with steel; one cannot even be expect ed to rise to the occasion" at all times and set off a joke as you would a rocket.
 I knew Mark Twain fairly we'll My acquaintance with him began thirty years ago, somewhere in the '7Os, quite accidentally, while travelling to New York from Elmira. On the first occa- sion we met in the comfortable smok- ing 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 dis- continued for the standard gauge. He was returning from Elmira, where Mrs. Clemens had lately presented her liege with a daughter-the second. He men toned the fact in the course of the ride. and while I had known of the baby's arrival, I did not know its sex. I, congratulated him, of course, and ventured to ask, MT Clemens. is the first Mark?" Without a change of ex- pression, but with a slight twinkle in his gray eye. he replied: No. this makes the Twain"
 I always found him very pleasant company-good in repartee and seldom given to ill-natured criticism, which, if ever indulged in, were used with sugar coating that effectually removed the possibly bitter taste.
 On another occasion we met on an Erie train at Elmira, with Dan of Tn nocents Abroad association. We were again seated in the smoking compart- ment and enjoying Marks cigars. He seemed rather quiet, and not inclined to talk much Dan rallied him on his unusual reticence, when Mark slowly replied:
 The fact is, fellows. I have just re- turned from a featuring tour in the middle west. and I may as well say right here that the closing nights were not what even a press agent would call a bowling success, so far as audiences were concerned. Why. if you'll believe me. at a lecture the other week, in a town of six thousand souls-aJ least l suppose they had souls-there were not over fifty of them in the hall!"
 We smiled audibly.
 Well" I remarked cOnsolingly, "l suppose the rest of the people were at home reading Tnnocents Abroad and forgot all about the lecture That's very kind, and a useful sug- gestion, but I would hate like the dick ems to chance a house-tO- house can vass to ascertain if that were so;" then. after few vigorous puffs. he con tinued q 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. l have wondered when and how he dis covered his mistake. and if he did so unaided But that he did finally get strengthened out was evidenced by the letter I received from him later, which read something like this:
 "'GeOrge F. Clements. Dear Sir: l am awful sorry that I didn't meet you when you was in town. Have always thought I 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, welli"
 It was my very good fortune to have always found Clemens a genial trav- cling company and I generally enjoyed 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 eX- cursion" to the Holy Land on the Qua ker City in June, 1S67.-New York Evening Post.