MARK

     P.S.  Don’t send the hymn-book, send the money.  I want to
     make the selection myself.

     M.

When he was lying ill in New York I went to see him frequently, and we had great times together, for even lying in bed he was as bright as ever.  One call was to say good-bye, before my sailing for Scotland.  The Pension Fund for University Professors was announced in New York soon after I sailed.  A letter about it from Mark, addressed to “Saint Andrew,” reached me in Scotland, from which I quote the following: 

     You can take my halo.  If you had told me what you had done
     when at my bedside you would have got it there and then.  It
     is pure tin and paid “the duty” when it came down.

Those intimate with Mr. Clemens (Mark Twain) will certify that he was one of the charmers.  Joe Jefferson is the only man who can be conceded his twin brother in manner and speech, their charm being of the same kind.  “Uncle Remus” (Joel Chandler Harris) is another who has charm, and so has George W. Cable; yes, and Josh Billings also had it.  Such people brighten the lives of their friends, regardless of themselves.  They make sunshine wherever they go.  In Rip Van Winkle’s words:  “All pretty much alike, dem fellers.”  Every one of them is unselfish and warm of heart.

The public only knows one side of Mr. Clemens—­the amusing part.  Little does it suspect that he was a man of strong convictions upon political and social questions and a moralist of no mean order.  For instance, upon the capture of Aguinaldo by deception, his pen was the most trenchant of all.  Junius was weak in comparison.

The gathering to celebrate his seventieth birthday was unique.  The literary element was there in force, but Mark had not forgotten to ask to have placed near him the multi-millionaire, Mr. H.H.  Rogers, one who had been his friend in need.  Just like Mark.  Without exception, the leading literary men dwelt in their speeches exclusively upon the guest’s literary work.  When my turn came, I referred to this and asked them to note that what our friend had done as a man would live as long as what he had written.  Sir Walter Scott and he were linked indissolubly together.  Our friend, like Scott, was ruined by the mistakes of partners, who had become hopelessly bankrupt.  Two courses lay before him.  One the smooth, easy, and short way—­the legal path.  Surrender all your property, go through bankruptcy, and start afresh.  This was all he owed to creditors.  The other path, long, thorny, and dreary, a life struggle, with everything sacrificed.  There lay the two paths and this was his decision: 

“Not what I owe to my creditors, but what I owe to myself is the issue.”

There are times in most men’s lives that test whether they be dross or pure gold.  It is the decision made in the crisis which proves the man.  Our friend entered the fiery furnace a man and emerged a hero.  He paid his debts to the utmost farthing by lecturing around the world.  “An amusing cuss, Mark Twain,” is all very well as a popular verdict, but what of Mr. Clemens the man and the hero, for he is both and in the front rank, too, with Sir Walter.