It happens that one of the oftenest-told anecdotes has been the least elaborated.  It is the one about his call on Mrs. Stowe.  Twichell’s journal entry, set down at the time, verifies it: 

Mrs. Stowe was leaving for Florida one morning, and Clemens ran over early to say good-by.  On his return Mrs. Clemens regarded him disapprovingly: 

“Why, Youth,” she said, “you haven’t on any collar and tie.”

He said nothing, but went up to his room, did up these items in a neat package, and sent it over by a servant, with a line: 

“Herewith receive a call from the rest of me.”

Mrs. Stowe returned a witty note, in which she said that he had discovered a new principle, the principle of making calls by instalments, and asked whether, in extreme cases, a man might not send his hat, coat, and boots and be otherwise excused.

Col.  Henry Watterson tells the story of an after-theater supper at the Brevoort House, where Murat Halstead, Mark Twain, and himself were present.  A reporter sent in a card for Colonel Watterson, who was about to deny himself when Clemens said: 

“Give it to me; I’ll fix it.”  And left the table.  He came back in a moment and beckoned to Watterson.

“He is young and as innocent as a lamb,” he said.  “I represented myself as your secretary.  I said that you were not here, but if Mr. Halstead would do as well I would fetch him out.  I’ll introduce you as Halstead, and we’ll have some fun.”

Now, while Watterson and Halstead were always good friends, they were political enemies.  It was a political season and the reporter wanted that kind of an interview.  Watterson gave it to him, repudiating every principle that Halstead stood for, reversing him in every expressed opinion.  Halstead was for hard money and given to flying the “bloody shirt” of sectional prejudice; Watterson lowered the bloody shirt and declared for greenbacks in Halstead’s name.  Then he and Clemens returned to the table and told frankly what they had done.  Of course, nobody believed it.  The report passed the World night-editor, and appeared, next morning.  Halstead woke up, then, and wrote a note to the World, denying the interview throughout.  The World printed his note with the added line: 

“When Mr. Halstead saw our reporter he had dined.”

It required John Hay (then on the Tribune) to place the joke where it belonged.

There is a Lotos Club anecdote of Mark Twain that carries the internal evidence of truth.  Saturday evening at the Lotos always brought a gathering of the “wits,” and on certain evenings—­“Hens and chickens” nights—­each man had to tell a story, make a speech, or sing a song.  On one evening a young man, an invited guest, was called upon and recited a very long poem.