“He drives me crazy with his didoes when he’s in the house,” his mother declared, “and when he’s out of it I’m expecting every minute that some one will bring him home half dead.”

Mark Twain used to say that he had had nine narrow escapes from drowning, and it was at this early age that he was brought home one afternoon in a limp state, having been pulled from a deep hole in Bear Creek by a slave girl.

When he was restored, his mother said:  “I guess there wasn’t much danger.  People born to be hanged are safe in water.”

Mark Twain’s mother was the original of Aunt Polly in the story of Tom Sawyer, an outspoken, keen-witted, charitable woman, whom it was good to know.  She had a heart full of pity, especially for dumb creatures.  She refused to kill even flies, and punished the cat for catching mice.  She would drown young kittens when necessary, but warmed the water for the purpose.  She could be strict, however, with her children, if occasion required, and recognized their faults.

Little Sam was inclined to elaborate largely on fact.  A neighbor once said to her:  “You don’t believe anything that child says, I hope.”

“Oh yes, I know his average.  I discount him ninety per cent.  The rest is pure gold.”

She declared she was willing to pay somebody to take him off her hands for a part of each day and try to teach him “manners.”  A certain Mrs. E. Horr was selected for the purpose.

Mrs. Horr’s school on Main Street, Hannibal, was of the old-fashioned kind.  There were pupils of all ages, and everything was taught up to the third reader and long division.  Pupils who cared to go beyond those studies went to a Mr. Cross, on the hill, facing what is now the public square.  Mrs. Horr received twenty-five cents a week for each pupil, and the rules of conduct were read daily.  After the rules came the A-B-C class, whose recitation was a hand-to-hand struggle, requiring no study-time.

The rules of conduct that first day interested Little Sam.  He wondered how nearly he could come to breaking them and escape.  He experimented during the forenoon, and received a warning.  Another experiment would mean correction.  He did not expect to be caught again; but when he least expected it he was startled by a command to go out and bring a stick for his own punishment.

This was rather dazing.  It was sudden, and, then, he did not know much about choosing sticks for such a purpose.  Jane Clemens had commonly used her hand.  A second command was needed to start him in the right direction, and he was still dazed when he got outside.  He had the forests of Missouri to select from, but choice was not easy.  Everything looked too big and competent.  Even the smallest switch had a wiry look.  Across the way was a cooper’s shop.  There were shavings outside, and one had blown across just in front of him.  He picked it up, and, gravely entering the room, handed it to Mrs. Horr.  So far as known, it is the first example of that humor which would one day make Little Sam famous before all the world.