1 68 
T1IE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
some knowledge of the man Mark Twain was 
to his friends, lie usually spent his mornings 
with his books ; his books and cigars were 
always with him. His bed was covered with 
books, manuscripts, and writing materials, 
while at the head of his bed was a table with 
all kinds of smoking paraphernalia, except 
cigarettes. Any spare moments were spent 
in reading, night or day, and he frequently 
carried a book with him on the chance of 
an unoccupied moment. Carlyle’s “ French 
Revolution,” Pepys’s Diary, Kipling's works, 
reference books of science were always at 
hand, besides recent books of note which 
were sent him by every mail. 
He seldom dressed before luncheon, but 
was in and out of 
his room in his gay 
kimono and slippers 
as the fancy took 
him. His room was 
on the ground floor, 
with a door open- 
ing on to the ver- 
anda which sur- 
rounds the house. 
The lawn is but a 
step down from the 
veranda, almost on 
the level, in fact, as 
is often the way in 
these old Bermuda 
bungalows. This 
one is over two 
hundred years old, 
and has many of 
the old-time charac- 
teristics left. In 
this out-of-the-way, 
secluded spot one 
does not realize the 
nearness of other 
homes. Sometimes 
he would wander 
out on the lawn 
enjoying his pipe, and if it happened to 
be near noon and by chance Helen had 
returned from school and we had met in 
the garden, down he would come to join 
us for a chat, near the quaint old ship’s 
figure-head, here at. last peacefully at anchor. 
Many times we warned him we would take 
his picture, and did so one day, much to his 
amusement. 
It was a quiet time, for he had come for 
a rest. Wc had little going on — now and then 
some friends to dine or for afternoon tea, 
people who interested or amused him, the 
band concerts which he so greatly enjoyed, 
and a few such breaks in our quiet routine. 
After one of these concerts, when he had 
been caught and had to speak to twenty-five 
members of a women’s club, he wrote during 
the night, “ Rules of Etiquette on Reaching 
Heaven.” They were to be for the benefit of 
his secretary, Mr. Paine, if he should reach 
heaven without a guide, and each point in 
the evening’s lionizing was strikingly brought 
out. 
To have our tea at one of the beaches was 
a favourite afternoon’s amusement. He 
would tell us stories by the hour, or join the 
children’s games with equal pleasure. I 
remember a story he told us one afternoon. 
It belonged to the time when he was a reporter 
in San Francisco. 
He had gone a long 
distance to tell the 
story of a boat-race. 
He had reached the 
town the night be- 
fore, tired out. On 
the morning of the 
race he heard it 
raining steadily, lie 
turned over and 
went to sleep again, 
secure in the fact 
that there would be 
no race that day. 
When he did turn 
out late in the 
afternoon, what was 
his surprise to find 
that it had been a 
beautiful bright 
day, and the race 
brought to a suc- 
cessful finish ! The 
rain he had heard 
was the pattering 
of a fountain just 
outside his win- 
dow ! 
I can see now the listeners’ keen enjoy- 
ment of this story. They may have heard it 
before, but any story was always new when 
Mark Twain told it. He recreated it in some 
fascinating new way each time he told it. 
This, he said, was the highest “ art in story- 
telling. 
Mr. Allen found that there was a film of 
“ The Prince and the Pauper” in the local 
picture show, and that there was a picture 
of Mark Twain himself in it. Mark Twain 
was keen to see it, for he said he had always 
wanted to see what a personation of himself 
would be like. When he did see it, it was 
ENJOYING A MOTOR-BOAT SPIN. 
From a Photograph. 
