Of course he was seized upon at once by a lot of feminine admirers, and the passage along the corridor was a perpetual gantlet.  I realize now that this gave the dramatic finish to his day, and furnished him with proper appetite for his dinner.  I did not again make the mistake of taking him around to the more secluded elevator.  I aided and abetted him every evening in making that spectacular descent of the royal stairway, and in running that fair and frivolous gantlet the length of “Peacock Alley.”  The dinner was a continuous reception.  No sooner was he seated than this Congressman and that Senator came over to shake hands with Mark Twain.  Governor Francis of Missouri also came.  Eventually Howells drifted in, and Clemens reviewed the day, its humors and successes.  Back in the rooms at last he summed up the progress thus far—­smoked, laughed over “Uncle Joe’s” surrender to the “copyright bandits,” and turned in for the night.

We were at the Capitol headquarters in Speaker Cannon’s private room about eleven o’clock next morning.  Clemens was not in the best humor because I had allowed him to oversleep.  He was inclined to be discouraged at the prospect, and did not believe many of the members would come down to see him.  He expressed a wish for some person of influence and wide acquaintance, and walked up and down, smoking gloomily.  I slipped out and found the Speaker’s colored body-guard, Neal, and suggested that Mr. Clemens was ready now to receive the members.

That was enough.  They began to arrive immediately.  John Sharp Williams came first, then Boutell, from Illinois, Littlefield, of Maine, and after them a perfect procession, including all the leading lights—­Dalzell, Champ Clark, McCall—­one hundred and eighty or so in all during the next three or four hours.

Neal announced each name at the door, and in turn I announced it to Clemens when the press was not too great.  He had provided boxes of cigars, and the room was presently blue with smoke, Clemens in his white suit in the midst of it, surrounded by those darker figures—­shaking hands, dealing out copyright gospel and anecdotes—­happy and wonderfully excited.  There were chairs, but usually there was only standing room.  He was on his feet for several hours and talked continually; but when at last it was over, and Champ Clark, who I believe remained longest and was most enthusiastic in the movement, had bade him good-by, he declared that he was not a particle tired, and added: 

“I believe if our bill could be presented now it would pass.”

He was highly elated, and pronounced everything a perfect success.  Neal, who was largely responsible for the triumph, received a ten-dollar bill.