SOME NEW ANECDOTES OF MARK TWAIN. 
169 
positively uncanny to see him there in the 
frame, puffing his cigar and looking a.bout in 
exactly the same way that he was doing at 
our side. He said it was like looking in a 
mirror, but it was so lifelike it gave him a 
creepy feeling. We wanted to hear the records 
made of his voice. What a pleasure it would 
be to hear them now, but we have heard 
they were accidentally destroyed. 
Tic helped Helen with her lessons, and they 
had the happiest time over them. One of his 
ways of teaching was for her to see if he knew 
them, and for every mistake there w r as a 
severe penalty, such as writing out the mis- 
take fifty times, which he faithfully fulfilled. 
We have several pages of his pad filled with 
words written as penalties, and dozens filled 
with French translations. 
When he came to us he had just pub- 
lished “ A Fable ” (in Harper's Magazine), 
and it was a rare treat to hear him read it 
in his dramatic way. I remember our keen 
appreciation of it, particularly that hand- 
some word “ sesquipedalian,” used so 
casually. He said he was always fond of 
fine-sounding words, and sometimes saved 
one for a long time before he found just the 
place to use it. Kipling’s coinage of words 
was a delight to him. It is marvellous to 
us that lie should ever be thought of merely 
as a humorist. Ilis humour he could not 
help ; it was spontaneous, and served but as 
a vehicle to attract the casual mind to 
his beautiful ideas and thoughts. 
In the evenings he would play his favourite 
card game, hearts. Night after night he would 
play and never seem to tire. He knew the 
game thoroughly, and at first won continually, 
but even when the family grew proficient, 
and at last became formidable opponents, 
his zeal was unabated. He would make the 
most of impossible hands, although disgusted 
with bad luck, for lie hated to lose. He started 
to learn bridge, but gave it up, saying he 
had not the patience to learn so many fussy 
rules. 
Meantime, the heart attacks from which 
he was suffering had grown more frequent, 
though not more distressing nor of longer 
duration. A cup of almost boiling water 
usually succeeded in relieving them, and two 
or three cups were sure to succeed. 
One morning he had a very serious bleeding 
of the nose in the garden, and the entire 
family were busy, maids; valet, and all 
bringing wet cloths for his relief. Amused 
at such a fuss being made over him, he said, 
with a quiet chuckle, “ Helen, run quickly 
and get a pencil and paper, so that you can 
take down my last words. It is the only thing 
that has been forgotten.” And then followed 
a discussion as to just what was proper in 
the way of last words. He contended that 
they were usually faked,” for he thought 
it impossible that at the moment of death 
last words could be thought of. 
Tie was happiest when it rained, as it did at 
one time for nearly three days, so that the 
whole family were storm-bound. We were in 
his room all day long, talking, or he would 
read to us. We discussed everything, including 
equal suffrage, in which he was a firm believer, 
and said that women were excusable for any 
lengths they went in gaining their point, 
yet it would only be a short time before it 
would be an accepted fact everywhere. 
Theology was a frequent subject of dis- 
cussion, so we can safely refute the many 
mistakes made as to his beliefs. Ilis ideas on 
religion were different from any conventional 
ones, but he could not truly be called an 
agnostic, for lie firmly believed, and as a 
result of the deepest thought, in a Supreme 
Being. The following passage, marked 
by him in a book read during the winter, 
gives an insight into lfts thoughts on 
heaven and a hereafter : “ I do not think 
of heaven as a glittering place with streets 
of gold and walls of pearl, but more like the 
quiet woods, where the grass is green and the 
little brook sings all day. I have thought of 
heaven as a place where those who love shall 
be together, free from all thought of parting.” 
One afternoon, when we were sitting around 
the fire, he read us extracts from “ Tom 
Sawyer,” and told us that many of the inci- 
dents in it were taken from his own life — 
notably the whitewash scene, and the cat 
and the pain-killer. 
One evening we had two young boys to 
dine that he admired, but who were a little 
in awe of him. He soon put them at their 
ease, and they were happily exchanging stories 
in a short time. He told his in his best style, 
and it inspired one of the boys to tell an 
unusually good story he had heard. 
When he was fairly launched he noticed 
a twinkle in Mark Twain’s eye which made him 
stop and ask if he had ever heard it before. 
Mark Twain said “ No,” so S proceeded 
with the story, but again noticing that know- 
ing expression, he asked a second time if 
Mark Twain was sure he had not heard it. 
“ No,” said he again. But when the story 
was finished there was that particularly 
pleased expression, like the cat that ate the 
canary. So he asked once more if Mark 
Twain had really never heard it. At this 
