The Birmingham age-herald., 1917-10-07
Romance of Mark Twain's Mother


 Romance of Mark Twain's Mother
 Among the Mark Twain letters printed In Harpers Magazine Is one written to w. D. Howells, that tells the strangely pathetic romance of the great humor- ist's mother.
 Mark Twain's mother was a woman of sturdy fiber, possessing a keen sense of humor and tender sympathies. Her husband, John Marshall Clemens, had been man of high moral character, honored by all who knew him, respected and apparently loved by his wife. No one would ever have supposed that dur Ing all her years of marriage and al- most to her death, she carried a se- cret romance that would only be told at last in the weary disappointment of old age. It is curious story, and it came to light in this curious way: Hartford, May 1s, ss "fMy Dear Howells: Here's a secret. A most curious and pathetic TO- l nance, which has just come to light Read these things, but don't mention them. Last fall, my old mother-then S2 took notion to attend convention of old settlers of the Mississippi valley In an Iowa town. My brothers wife was astonished; and represented to her the hardships and fatigues of such a trip, and said my mother might possibly not SN Oii odi VlNS tIcHi, cuu SdlQ there COulQ be no possible interest for her in such a meeting and such crowd But my mother insisted, and persisted, and fi- nally gained her point. They started, , and all the way my mother was young again with excitement, interest, eager ness. anticipation. They reached the town and the hotel. My mother strode with the same eagerness in her eye and her step, to the counter, and said: Yo nv~D ~s,
 '"No He was here, but he returned to St. Louis this morning"
 "'"Will he come again?'
 "'"No."
 My mother turned away, the fire all gone from her, and said Let us go home''
 They went straight back to Keokuk. My mother sat silent and thinking for many days-a thing which had never happened before. Then one day she said:
 ""I will tell you secret When I l was IS, young medical student named Barrett lived in Columbia, Ky, IS miles away: and he used to ride over to see me. This continued for sometime. I loved him with my whole heart, and I knew that he felt the same toward me, though no words had been spoken. He was too bashful to speak-he could not do it. Everybody supposed we were en. So5St-toOh IL TUT STdHLeu we Wef6-Out we were not. By and by there was to be party in neighboring town, and he wrote my uncle telling him my feel ings, and asking him to drive me over In his buggy and let him (Barrett) drive me back, so that he might have that opportunity to propose. My uncle should have done as he was asked, without ex- blaming anything to me; but instead, he read me the letter; and then, of course. orn rett left the country presently, and I, to stop the clacking tongues and to show him that did not care, married l in pet. In all these 64 years I have | not seen him since. I saw in a paper ! that he was going to attend the old settlers convention. Only three hours
 before we reached that hotel, he had been standing therer'
 i Since then, her memory Is wholly
 faded out and gone: and now she writes
 letters to the schoolmates who have beer dead 40 years. and wonders why they neglect her and do not answer | Think of her carrying that pathetic
 burden in her old heart GA years. an6
 no human being ever suspecting it! I Yours ever MARK
 We do not get the idea from this let
 ter that those two long-ago sweetheart. l quarreled, but Mark Twain once spoke of them having done so, and there may
 have been a disagreement, assuming l that there was a subsequent meeting. Il 1 does not matter now. In speaking o1 | 1t Mark Twain once said:' Tt is as pa. thetic a romance as any that has crossed
 the field of my personal experience ir
 a long lifetime.'
 "Howells wrote:
 After all. how poor and hackneyed all the Inventions are compared witt the simple and stately facts. Who coulc
 nave Imagined such heartbreak as
 that? Yet 1t went along with the full fillment of every day duty, and made
 no more noise than a grave underfoot
 doubt if fiction will ever get the knack l of such things',