“We dined as we could, probably with a neighbor, and by quarter to eight in the evening the hickory fire in the hall was pouring a sheet of flame up the chimney, the house was in a drench of gas- light from the ground floor up, the guests were arriving, and there was a babble of hearty greetings, with not a voice in it that was not old and familiar and affectionate; and when the curtain went up, we looked out from the stage upon none but faces dear to us, none but faces that were lit up with welcome for us.”

He was one of the children himself, you see, and therefore on the stage with the others.  Katy Leary, for thirty years in the family service, once said to the author:  “The children were crazy about acting, and we all enjoyed it as much as they did, especially Mr. Clemens, who was the best actor of all.  I have never known a happier household than theirs was during those years.”

The plays were not all given by the children.  Mark Twain had kept up his German study, and a class met regularly in his home to struggle with the problems of der, die, and das.  By and by he wrote a play for the class, “Meisterschaft,” a picturesque mixture of German and English, which they gave twice, with great success.  It was unlike anything attempted before or since.  No one but Mark Twain could have written it.  Later (January, 1888), in modified form, it was published in the “Century Magazine.”  It is his best work of this period.

Many pleasant and amusing things could be recalled from these days if one only had room.  A visit with Robert Louis Stevenson was one of them.  Stevenson was stopping at a small hotel near Washington Square, and he and Clemens sat on a bench in the sunshine and talked through at least one golden afternoon.  What marvelous talk that must have been!  “Huck Finn” was one of Stevenson’s favorites, and once he told how he had insisted on reading the book aloud to an artist who was painting his portrait.  The painter had protested at first, but presently had fallen a complete victim to Huck’s story.  Once, in a letter, Stevenson wrote: 

“My father, an old man, has been prevailed upon to read ‘Roughing It’ (his usual amusement being found in theology), and after one evening spent with the book he declared:  ’I am frightened.  It cannot be safe for a man at my time of life to laugh so much.’”

Mark Twain had been a “mugwump” during the Blame-Cleveland campaign in 1880, which means that he had supported the independent Democratic candidate, Grover Cleveland.  He was, therefore, in high favor at the White House during both Cleveland administrations, and called there informally whenever business took him to Washington.  But on one occasion (it was his first visit after the President’s marriage) there was to be a party, and Mrs. Clemens, who could not attend, slipped a little note into the pocket of his evening waistcoat, where he would be sure to find it when dressing, warning him as to his deportment.