has come to light except his penciled name, Sam Clemens, laboriously inscribed on the inside of a small worn purse that once held his meager, almost non-existent wealth.  He became a printer’s apprentice at twelve, but as he received no salary, the need of a purse could not have been urgent.  He must have carried it pretty steadily, however, from its appearance—­as a kind of symbol of hope, maybe—­a token of that Sellers-optimism which dominated his early life, and was never entirely subdued.

No other writing of any kind has been preserved from Sam Clemens’s boyhood, none from that period of his youth when he had served his apprenticeship and was a capable printer on his brother’s paper, a contributor to it when occasion served.  Letters and manuscripts of those days have vanished—­even his contributions in printed form are unobtainable.  It is not believed that a single number of Orion Clemens’s paper, the Hannibal Journal, exists to-day.

It was not until he was seventeen years old that Sam Clemens wrote a letter any portion of which has survived.  He was no longer in Hannibal.  Orion’s unprosperous enterprise did not satisfy him.  His wish to earn money and to see the world had carried him first to St. Louis, where his sister Pamela was living, then to New York City, where a World’s Fair in a Crystal Palace was in progress.  The letter tells of a visit to this great exhibition.  It is not complete, and the fragment bears no date, but it was written during the summer of 1853.

Fragment of a letter from Sam L. Clemens to his sister
Pamela Moffett, in St. Louis, summer of 1853: 

. . .  From the gallery (second floor) you have a glorious sight—­the flags of the different countries represented, the lofty dome, glittering jewelry, gaudy tapestry, &c., with the busy crowd passing to and fro—­tis a perfect fairy palace—­beautiful beyond description.

The Machinery department is on the main floor, but I cannot enumerate any of it on account of the lateness of the hour (past 8 o’clock.) It would take more than a week to examine everything on exhibition; and as I was only in a little over two hours tonight, I only glanced at about one-third of the articles; and having a poor memory; I have enumerated scarcely any of even the principal objects.  The visitors to the Palace average 6,000 daily—­double the population of Hannibal.  The price of admission being 50 cents, they take in about $3,000.

The Latting Observatory (height about 280 feet) is near the Palace—­from it you can obtain a grand view of the city and the country round.  The Croton Aqueduct, to supply the city with water, is the greatest wonder yet.  Immense sewers are laid across the bed of the Hudson River, and pass through the country to Westchester county, where a whole river is turned from its course, and brought to New York.  From the reservoir in the city to the Westchester county reservoir, the distance is thirty-eight miles! and if necessary, they could supply every family in New York with one hundred barrels of water per day!