When the English fleet sailed up the bay, But the Dutchmen there had come to stay, They could keep right on, and work and wait And we claim to-day that New York State They were solid and strong, They have lasted long, And the world has need of such men; (On the father's side), That they were typical Dutchmen. [Great applause.] § 56 A "LITTERY" EPISODE By Samuel L. Clemens (Speech at the "Whittier Birthday Dinner," at the Hotel Brunswick, Boston, Mass., December 17, 1877, given by the publishers of the Atlantic Monthly, in celebration of the seventieth anniversary of John Greenleaf Whittier's birthday, and the twentieth anniversary of the founding of the magazine. Emerson, Longfellow, and Holmes were present.) MR. CHAIRMAN: This is an occasion peculiarly meet for the digging up of pleasant reminiscences concerning literary folk; therefore, I will drop lightly into history myself. Standing here on the shore of the "Atlantic," and contemplating certain of the biggest literary billows, I am reminded of a thing which happened to me fifteen years ago, when I had just succeeded in stirring up a little Nevadian literary oceanpuddle myself, whose spume-flakes were beginning to blow thinly California-wards. I started on an inspection tramp through the southern mines of California. I was callow and conceited, and I resolved to try the virtue of my nom de plume. I very soon had an opportunity. I knocked at a miner's lonely log-cabin in the foothills of the Sierras, just at nightfall. It was snowing at the time. A jaded, melancholy man of fifty, barefooted, opened to me. When he heard my nom de plume SAMUEL L. CLEMENS (MARK TWAIN). Born in Florida, Mo., November 30, 1835; apprentice to a printer at the age of 13; later a pilot on the Mississippi River; worked as a journalist in many places; settled in Hartford in 1884 as an author and publisher; died April 21, 1910. he looked more dejected than before. He let me in pretty reluctantly, I thought, and after the customary bacon and beans, black coffee, and a hot whiskey, I took a pipe. This sorrowful man had not said three words up to this time. Now he spoke up and said, in the voice of one who is secretly suffering. "You're the fourth-I'm a-going to move." "The fourth what?" said I. "The fourth littery man that's been here in twenty-four hours-I'm a-going to move." "You don't tell me!" I said. "Who were the others?" "Mr. Longfellow, Mr. Emerson, and Mr. Oliver Wendell Holmes-dad fetch the lot!" [Laughter.] You can easily believe I was interested. I supplicated-three hot whiskeys did the rest-and finally the melancholy miner began. Said he: "They came here just at dark yesterday evening, and I let them in, of course. Said they were going to Yosemite. They were a rough lotbut that's nothing everybody looks rough that travels afoot. Mr. Emerson was a seedy little bit of chap-red-headed. Mr. Holmes was as fat as a balloon-he weighed as much as three hundred, and had double chins all the way down to his stomach. Mr. Longfellow was built like a prize fighter. His head was cropped and bristly—like as if he had a wig made of hair-brushes. His nose lay straight down his face, like a finger with the end-joint tilted up. They had been drinking I could see that. And what queer talk they used! Mr. Holmes inspected this cabin, then he took me by the buttonhole, and says he: 'Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings: Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul!' [Laughter.] Says I, 'I can't afford it, Mr. Holmes, and, moreover, I don't want to.' Blamed if I liked it pretty well, either, coming from a stranger, that way. However, I started to git out my bacon and beans, when Mr. Emerson came and looked on awhile, and then he takes me aside by the buttonhole and says:— 'Give me agates for my meat; Give me cantharids to eat; From air and ocean bring me foods, [Laughter.] Says I, 'Mr. Emerson, if you'll excuse me, this ain't no hotel.' [Renewed laughter.] You see it sort of riled me,-I wasn't used to the ways of littery swells. But I went on a-sweating over my work, and next comes Mr. Longfellow and buttonholes me, and interrupts me. he: Says 'Honor be to Mudjikeewis! You shall hear how Paw-Puk-Keewis' But I broke in, and says I, 'Begging your pardon, Mr. Longfellow, if you'll be so kind as to hold your yawp for about five minutes and let me get this grub ready, you'll do me proud.' [Continued laughter.] Well, sir, after they'd filled up I set out the jug. Mr. Holmes looks at it, and then fires up all of a sudden, and yells: [Great merriment.] 'Flash out a stream of blood-red wine! By George, I was getting kind o' worked up. I don't deny it, I was getting kind o' worked up. I turns to Mr. Holmes, and, says I, 'Looky here, my fat friend, I'm a-running this shanty, and if the court knows. herself, you'll take whiskey-straight, or you'll go dry.' [Laughter.] Them's the very words I said to him. Now I didn't want to sass such famous littery people, but you see they kind o' forced me. There ain't nothing onreasonable 'bout me; I don't mind a passel of guests a-tread'n on my tail three or four times, but when it comes to standin' on it, it's different, and if the court knows herself, you'll take whiskey-straight, or you'll go dry.' Well, between drinks, they'd swell around the cabin and strike attitudes and spout. [Laughter.] Says Mr. Longfellow:"This is the forest primeval.' Says Mr. Emerson: 'Here once the embattled farmers stood, Says I: 'Oh, blackguard the premises as much as you want to-it don't cost you a cent.' [Laughter.] Well, they went on drinking, and pretty soon they got out a greasy old deck and went to playing cutthroat euchre at ten cents a corner-on trust. I begun to notice some pretty suspicious things. Mr. Emerson dealt, looked at his hand, shook his head, says : 'I am the doubter and the doubt' -and calmly bunched the hands and went to shuffling for a new lay out. Says he: [Laughter.] "They reckon ill who leave me out; Hang'd if he didn't go ahead, and do it, too! O, he was a cool one! Well, in about a minute, things were running pretty tight, but of a sudden I see by Mr. Emerson's eye that he judged he had 'em. He had already corralled two tricks, and each of the others one. So now he kind o' lifts a little in his chair, and says: 'I tire of globes and aces! Too long the game is played!' -and down he fetched a right bower. Mr. Longfellow smiles as sweet as pie, and says:— 'Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught.' -and dog my cats if he didn't down with another right bower! Well, sir, up jumps Holmes, a-war-whooping as usual, and says:— 'God help them if the tempest swings The pine against the palm!' -and I wish I may go to grass if he didn't swoop down with another right bower! [Great laughter.] Emerson claps his hand on his bowie, Longfellow claps his on his revolver, and I went under a bunk. There was going to be trouble; but that monstrous Holmes rose up. wobbling his double chins, and says he: 'Order, gentlemen! The first man that draws, I'll lay down on him and smother him!' [Laughter.] All quiet on the Potomac, you bet you! "They were pretty how-come-you-so now, and they begun to blow. Emerson says, 'The bulliest thing I ever wrote was "Barbara Frietchie."' Says Longfellow, 'It don't begin with my "Biglow Papers."' Says Holmes, 'My "Thanatopsis" lays over 'em both.' [Laughter.] They mighty near ended in a fight. Then they wished they had some more company, and Mr. Emerson pointed at me and says:— [Laughter.] 'Is yonder squalid peasant all That this proud nursery could breed?' He was a-whetting his bowie on his boot-so I let it pass. [Laughter.] Well, sir, next they took it into their heads that they would like some music; so they made me stand up and sing 'When Johnny Comes Marching Home', till I dropped-at thirteen minutes past four this morning. That's what I've been through, my friend. When I woke at seven they were leaving, thank goodness, and Mr. Longfellow had my only boots on, and his own under his arm. Says I, 'Hold on there, Evangeline, what you going to do with them?" He says, 'Going to make tracks with 'em, because— [Laughter.] 'Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime; "As I said, Mr. Twain, you are the fourth in twenty-four hours-and I'm going to move-I ain't suited to a littery atmosphere." I said to the miner, "Why, my dear sir, these were not the gracious singers to whom we and the world pay loving reverence and homage; these were impostors.' The miner investigated me with a calm eye for a while, then said he, "Ah! impostors, were they? are you?" I did not pursue the subject; and since then I haven't traveled on my nom de plume enough to hurt. Such was the reminiscence I was moved to contribute, Mr. Chairman. In my enthusiasm I may have exaggerated the details a little; but you will easily forgive me that fault, since I believe it is the first time I have ever deflected from perpendicular fact on an occasion like this. [Laughter and applause.] (Speech before the National Society of China Importers, New York City, Feb ruary 6, 1896.) MR. CHAIRMAN AND FRIENDS: The china I buy abroad is marked "Fragile" in shipment. That which I buy at home is marked: "GlassThis Side Up With Care." The foreign word of caution is fact. The ST. CLAIR MCKELLWAY. Born, Columbia, Mo., March 15, 1845; educated by private teachers; admitted to the New York bar, 1866, but never practiced law; journalist on the New York Tribune and the New York World; associate editor of the Brooklyn Eagle, 1870-1878; editor of The Albany Argus, 1878-1885; editor of the Brooklyn Eagle, 1885-1915; elected regent for life of the University of the State of New York, 1883; died, 1915. |