Onion was steaming along at the rate of ten to twenty pages a day now, forwarding them as fast as written, while his courage was good and the fires warm.  Clemens, receiving a package by every morning mail, soon lost interest, then developed a hunted feeling, becoming finally desperate.  He wrote wildly to shut Orion off, urging him to let his manuscript accumulate, and to send it in one large consignment at the end.  This Orion did, and it is fair to say that in this instance at least he stuck to his work faithfully to the bitter, disheartening end.  And it would have been all that Mark Twain had dreamed it would be, had Orion maintained the simple narrative spirit of its early pages.  But he drifted off into theological byways; into discussions of his excommunication and infidelities, which were frank enough, but lacked human interest.

In old age Mark Twain once referred to Orion’s autobiography in print and his own disappointment in it, which he attributed to Orion’s having departed from the idea of frank and unrestricted confession to exalt himself as a hero-a statement altogether unwarranted, and due to one of those curious confusions of memory and imagination that more than once resulted in a complete reversal of the facts.  A quantity of Orion’s manuscript has been lost and destroyed, but enough fragments of it remain to show its fidelity to the original plan.  It is just one long record of fleeting hope, futile effort, and humiliation.  It is the story of a life of disappointment; of a man who has been defeated and beaten down and crushed by the world until he has nothing but confession left to surrender.—­[Howells, in his letter concerning the opening chapters, said that they would some day make good material.  Fortunately the earliest of these chapters were preserved, and, as the reader may remember, furnished much of the childhood details for this biography.]

Whatever may have been Mark Twain’s later impression of his brother’s manuscript, its story of failure and disappointment moved him to definite action at the time.

Several years before, in Hartford, Orion had urged him to make his publishing contracts on a basis of half profits, instead of on the royalty plan.  Clemens, remembering this, had insisted on such an arrangement for the publication of ‘A Tramp Abroad’, and when his first statement came in he realized that the new contract was very largely to his advantage.  He remembered Orion’s anxiety in the matter, and made it now a valid excuse for placing his brother on a firm financial footing.

Out of the suspicions which you bred in me years ago has grown this result, to wit:  that I shall within the twelve months get $40,000 out of this Tramp, instead of $20,000. $20,000, after taxes and other expenses are stripped away, is worth to the investor about $75 a month, so I shall tell Mr. Perkins [his lawyer and financial agent] to make your check that amount per month hereafter....  This ends the loan business, and hereafter you can reflect that you are living not on borrowed money, but on money which you have squarely earned, and which has no taint or savor of charity about it, and you can also reflect that the money which you have been receiving of me is charged against the heavy bill which the next publisher will have to stand who gets a book of mine.