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Clemens had difficulty in getting to sleep in that earlier day； and for a
time found it soothing to drink a little champagne on retiring。 Once；
when he arrived in Boston； Howells said：
〃Clemens； we've laid in a bottle of champagne for you。〃
But he answered：
〃Oh； that's no good any more。 Beer's the thing。〃
So Howells provided the beer； and always afterward had a vision of his
guest going up…stairs that night with a pint bottle under each arm。
He invented other methods of inducing slumber as the years went by； and
at one time found that this precious boon came more easily when he
stretched himself on the bath…room floor。
He was a perpetual joy to the Howells family when he was there； even
though the household required a general reorganization when he was gone。
Mildred Howells remembers how； as a very little girl； her mother
cautioned her not to ask for anything she wanted at the table when
company was present； but to speak privately of it to her。 Miss Howells
declares that while Mark Twain was their guest she nearly starved because
it was impossible to get her mother's attention； and Mrs。 Howells； after
one of those visits of hilarity and disorder； said：
〃Well； it 'most kills me； but it pays；〃 a remark which Clemens vastly
enjoyed。 Howells himself once wrote：
Your visit was a perfect ovation for us； we never enjoy anything so much
as those visits of yours。 The smoke and the Scotch and the late hours
almost kill us； but we look each other in the eyes when you are gone； and
say what a glorious time it was； and air the library； and begin sleeping
and longing to have you back again。。。。
CVIII
SUMMER LABORS AT QUARRY FARM
They went to Elmira； that summer of '76； to be 〃hermits and eschew caves
and live in the sun；〃 as Clemens wrote in a letter to Dr。 Brown。 They
returned to the place as to Paradise： Clemens to his study and the books
which he always called for； Mrs。 Clemens to a blessed relief from social
obligations； the children to the shady play…places； the green； sloping
hill； where they could race and tumble； and to all their animal friends。
Susy was really growing up。 She had had several birthdays； quite grand
affairs； when she had been brought down in the morning； decked； and with
proper ceremonies； with subsequent celebration。 She was a strange；
thoughtful child； much given to reflecting on the power and presence of
infinity； for she was religiously taught。 Down in the city； one night；
there was a grand display of fireworks； and the hilltop was a good place
from which to enjoy it； but it grew late after a little； and Susy was
ordered to bed。 She said； thoughtfully：
〃I wish I could sit up all night； as God does。〃
The baby； whom they still called 〃Bay；〃 was a tiny； brown creature who
liked to romp in the sun and be rocked to sleep at night with a song。
Clemens often took them for extended' walks； pushing Bay in her carriage。
Once； in a preoccupied moment； he let go of the little vehicle and it
started downhill； gaining speed rapidly。
He awoke then； and set off in wild pursuit。 Before he could overtake the
runaway carriage it had turned to the roadside and upset。 Bay was lying
among the stones and her head was bleeding。 Hastily binding the wound
with a handkerchief he started full speed with her up the hill toward the
house； calling for restoratives as he came。 It was no serious matter。
The little girl was strong and did not readily give way to affliction。
The children were unlike： Susy was all contemplation and nerves； Bay
serene and practical。 It was said； when a pet cat diedthis was some
years laterthat Susy deeply reflected as to its life here and
hereafter； while Bay was concerned only as to the style of its funeral。
Susy showed early her father's quaintness of remark。 Once they bought
her a heavier pair of shoes than she approved of。 She was not in the
best of humors during the day； and that night； when at prayer…time her
mother said； 〃Now； Susy； put your thoughts on God；〃 she answered； 〃 Mama；
I can't with those shoes。〃
Clemens worked steadily that summer and did a variety of things。 He had
given up a novel； begun with much enthusiasm； but he had undertaken
another long manuscript。 By the middle of August he had written several
hundred pages of a story which was to be a continuation of Tam Sawyer
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn。 Now； here is a curious phase of
genius。 The novel which for a time had filled him with enthusiasm and
faith had no important literary value； whereas； concerning this new tale；
he says：
〃I like it only tolerably well； as far as I have gone； and may possibly
pigeonhole or burn the manuscript when it is done〃this of the story
which； of his books of pure fiction； will perhaps longest survive。 He
did； in fact； give the story up； and without much regret； when it was
about half completed； and let it lie unfinished for years。
He wrote one short tale； 〃The Canvasser's Story；〃 a burlesque of no
special distinction； and he projected for the Atlantic a scheme of
〃blindfold novelettes；〃 a series of stories to be written by well…known
authors and others； each to be constructed on the same plot。 One can
easily imagine Clemens's enthusiasm over a banal project like that； his
impulses were always rainbow…hued； whether valuable or not； but it is
curious that Howells should welcome and even encourage an enterprise so
far removed from all the traditions of art。 It fell to pieces； at last；
of inherent misconstruction。 The title was to be； 〃A Murder and a
Marriage。〃 Clemens could not arrive at a logical climax that did not
bring the marriage and the hanging on the same day。
The Atlantic started its 〃Contributors' Club；〃 and Howells wrote to
Clemens for a paragraph or more of personal opinion on any subject；
assuring him that he could 〃spit his spite〃 out at somebody or something
as if it were a passage from a letter。 That was a fairly large
permission to give Mark Twain。 The paragraph he sent was the sort of
thing he would write with glee； and hug himself over in the thought of
Howells's necessity of rejecting it。 In the accompanying note he said：
Say； Boss； do you want this to lighten up your old freight…train with？
I suppose you won't； but then it won't take long to say； so。
He was always sending impossible offerings to the magazines； innocently
enough sometimes； but often out of pure mischievousness。 Yet they were
constantly after him； for they knew they were likely to get a first…water
gem。 Mary Mopes Dodge； of St。 Nicholas； wrote time and again； and
finally said：
〃I know a man who was persecuted by an editor till he went distracted。〃
In his reading that year at the farm he gave more than customary
attention to one of his favorite books； Pepys' Diary； that captivating
old record which no one can follow continuously without catching the
infection of its manner and the desire of imitation。 He had been reading
diligently one day； when he determined to try his hand on an imaginary
record of conversation and court manners of a bygone day； written in the
phrase of the period。 The result was Fireside Conversation in the Tim