As a bear, he was a success—­he was a good bear—.  But then, it was objected, that he was an objectless bear—­a bear that meant nothing in particular, signified nothing,—­simply stood there snarling over his shoulder at nothing—­and was painfully and manifestly a boorish and ill-natured intruder upon the fair page.  All hands said that—­none were satisfied.  They hated badly to give him up, and yet they hated as much to have him there when there was no paint to him.  But presently Harte took a pencil and drew these two simple lines under his feet and behold he was a magnificent success!—­the ancient symbol of California savagery snarling at the approaching type of high and progressive Civilization, the first Overland locomotive!:  [Sketch of a small section of railway track.]

I just think that was nothing less than inspiration itself.

Once more I apologize, and this time I do it “stanning!”
                         Yrs.  Truly
                              Saml.  L. Clemens.

     The “two simple lines,” of course, were the train rails under the
     bear’s feet, and completed the striking cover design of the Overland
     monthly.

The brief controversy over the “Three Aces” was the beginning of along and happy friendship between Aldrich and Mark Twain.  Howells, Aldrich, Twichell, and Charles Dudley Warner—­these were Mark Twain’s intimates, men that he loved, each for his own special charm and worth.

     Aldrich he considered the most brilliant of living men.

     In his reply to Clemens’s letter, Aldrich declared that he was glad
     now that, for the sake of such a letter, he had accused him falsely,
     and added: 

     “Mem.  Always abuse people.

“When you come to Boston, if you do not make your presence manifest to me, I’ll put in a !! in ‘Every Saturday’ to the effect that though you are generally known as Mark Twain your favorite nom de plume is ‘Barry Gray.’”

     Clemens did not fail to let Aldrich know when he was in Boston
     again, and the little coterie of younger writers forgathered to give
     him welcome.

Buffalo agreed with neither Mrs. Clemens nor the baby.  What with nursing and anguish of mind, Mark Twain found that he could do nothing on the new book, and that he must give up his magazine department.  He had lost interest in his paper and his surroundings in general.  Journalism and authorship are poor yoke-mates.  To Onion Clemens, at this time editing Bliss’s paper at Hartford, he explained the situation.

To Onion Clemens, in Hartford: 

Buffalo, 4th 1871.  My dear Bro,—­What I wanted of the “Liar” Sketch, was to work it into the California book—­which I shall do.  But day before yesterday I concluded to go out of the Galaxy on the strength of it, so I have turned it into the last Memoranda I shall ever write, and published it as a “specimen chapter” of my forthcoming book.