New Britain herald., 1919-09-08
THANK LONG" When He Interviewed Mark Twain
(Contri ibuted.)

Knew he paid for it. I was acquaint- ed with the brand of cigars he smoked. l could tell anybody, at that tlme Just how much change he at any one time had in pocket. Knew now many shirts he owned. Where bought, size where laundered. Whether he liked bread and milk, or just plain milk punch. All this I found out through a system I'd per fected, that, were I to detail, you'd call me mad
 At last the wonderful day came 1 shall never forget it. I was mad, yes mad with joy. For two days preceding the wonderful event that 1 knew was soon to transpire, I was like a crazy man. Previous to this 1 had followed him like a dog-a dog famlshed for scrap, a bone, a crust. Through the torrid days of August dog days, l followed him. For hours I'd camped under his window at night, thinking poor fool that I was, that if I could but hear him snore I'd learn something of his wonderful vocabulary, and appro- priate it for my own. The twinkling stars laughed at mo. On one occa- sion, when he stood waiting for a car, and was absently feeling in his vest pocket as I supposed for match, l ran up to him with the ar tlcle. No thanks" said he blandly,
 l was feeling for a toothpick.' I'm sorry,' he continued turning his qulzzcal eyes on me, Indeed sorry to use toothpick on the street but sorry also that I don't happen to have alother for you" Tomorrow" he continued pleasantly, "at half past 1) I'll be smoking on this very corner, then if you should happen to be here I'll consider the match. That is,' he went on rapidly stepping off for the car, unless the corner should be smoking by then. Lots O fires lately in Hartford" I hung my head in shame, then a little newsie stopper LID saying, Mister W don't y try m tmorrer with a dollar? Traps he'd bite l brained the boy on the spot and had him buried at my own ex- pense.
 Thinking the brand of cigars he smoked had som ething to do with the Way he wrote, I bought barrel l got sick. 1 still have half the cigars.
 There is no use," cried in despair. Then the big idea came. There is but one way" I whispered, ah so
 
 ems in person, alone, at his own home. Remember, I had been trail ing him ten years. Reader do you know-not unless you are a detective what it means to trail a man ten years? Do you know how hungry one becomes? Can you imagine how many soles l wore out, not counting my own? Can you by any manner of means call up mental picture of what it costs in clothing, and wear and tear of nerves. and blood, and sinew,. and bone, and tis- tue? Some of my readers I am sure have waited for friend wife when she's been shopping? This is heaven to what l endured. With wife it's different for one may slip in and take a drink. I couldn't, I couldn't. In the first place I didn't drink. And had l been drinking man, I wouldn't have dared to do it. because you see, I'd been afraid he'd slip in another cafe and thus I'd miss him.
 Never till my dying day shall I forget how I felt when I finally re- solved to visit MT. Twain at his home. I remember the sweat just oozed from e''ery pour of my miserable body. I was positively slippery, the way
 
 hot, clanmy weather. I couldn't bear to touch myself. So with my feeble hands claspng my manuscript to my concave chest. and while my poor, f1abby calves twitched to the tune of St. Vitus' dance, I started one August morning. Like a felon I crept up the soft tar walk Like some pest infested scoundrel I 1eH q massive doors of the residence. Why, do you know those doors looked like the lid of a coffin? They really did, studded as they were with big nails and heavens there was the door plate--so much Ike a coffin plate. I rang the bell. The sweat started anew. Never in my mortal days had I supposed 9 two dollar and a half door bell could make so much noise. He bought it of Corbin. I felt like Oliver Twist when he asked, Please sir, I want some more.' Only I didn't.
 Now" I chattered, "there will be something doing" There was. Scarce ly had I drawn my shaking calves over the sill, than l was acked from behind. I screamed. I thought it best to look. Habit you know. I was in the grip of liver colored dog, bout as big as full grown OK liver. Heavens what wicked eye that liver-J mean-dog had. Have you ever gazed at any considerable length of time into a real husky dogs eyes. with a mouth I then thought as big and open (his was closed) as that of the Mississippi river? To this day. I have never been able to 4o hot doc h iC the dust he kicked up with what feeble effort I contri buted The vii cious thing grabbed me, not ONE calf, but by BOTH. Yes, sir, he had both calves in his big. bloody chops a,l: 1