On the morning of his wedding-day Mark Twain received from his publisher a check for four thousand dollars, his profit from three months’ sales of the book, a handsome sum.

The wedding was mainly a family affair.  Twichell and his wife came over from Hartford—­Twichell to assist Thomas K. Beecher in performing the ceremony.  Jane Clemens could not come, nor Orion and his wife; but Pamela, a widow now, and her daughter Annie, grown to a young lady, arrived from St. Louis.  Not more than one hundred guests gathered in the stately Langdon parlors that in future would hold so much history for Samuel Clemens and Olivia Langdon—­so much of the story of life and death that thus made its beginning there.  Then, at seven in the evening, they were married, and the bride danced with her father, and the Rev. Thomas Beecher declared she wore the longest gloves he had ever seen.

It was the next afternoon that the wedding-party set out for Buffalo.  Through a Mr. Slee, an agent of Mr. Langdon’s, Clemens had engaged, as he supposed, a boarding-house, quiet and unpretentious, for he meant to start his married life modestly.  Jervis Langdon had a plan of his own for his daughter, but Clemens had received no inkling of it, and had full faith in the letter which Slee had written, saying that a choice and inexpensive boarding-house had been secured.  When, about nine o’clock that night, the party reached Buffalo, they found Mr. Slee waiting at the station.  There was snow, and sleighs had been ordered.  Soon after starting, the sleigh of the bride and groom fell behind and drove about rather aimlessly, apparently going nowhere in particular.  This disturbed the groom, who thought they should arrive first and receive their guests.  He criticized Slee for selecting a house that was so hard to find, and when they turned at last into Delaware Avenue, Buffalo’s finest street, and stopped before a handsome house, he was troubled concerning the richness of the locality.

They were on the steps when the door opened and a perfect fairyland of lights and decoration was revealed within.  The friends who had gone ahead came out with greetings to lead in the bride and groom.  Servants hurried forward to take bags and wraps.  They were ushered inside; they were led through beautiful rooms, all newly appointed and garnished.  The bridegroom was dazed, unable to understand the meaning of it all—­the completeness of their possession.  At last his young wife put her hand upon his arm.

“Don’t you understand, Youth?” she said—­that was always her name for him.  “Don’t you understand?  It is ours, all ours—­everything—­a gift from father.”

But still he could not quite grasp it, and Mr. Langdon brought a little box and, opening it, handed them the deeds.

Nobody quite remembers what was the first remark that Samuel Clemens made, but either then or a little later he said: 

“Mr. Langdon, whenever you are in Buffalo, if it’s twice a year, come right here.  Bring your bag and stay overnight if you want to.  It sha’n’t cost you a cent.”