while loading wood, sixty miles below Memphis, the Pennsylvania's
boilers had exploded with fearful results. Henry Clemens was among
the injured. He was still alive when his brother reached Memphis on
the Lacey, but died a few days later. Samuel Clemens had idolized
the boy, and regarded himself responsible for his death. The letter
that follows shows that he was overwrought by the scenes about him
and the strain of watching, yet the anguish of it is none the less
real.

To Mrs. Onion Clemens:

MEMPHIS, TENN., Friday, June 18th, 1858.

DEAR SISTER MOLLIE,--Long before this reaches you, my poor Henry my
darling, my pride, my glory, my all, will have finished his blameless
career, and the light of my life will have gone out in utter
darkness. (O, God! this is hard to bear.) Hardened, hopeless,--aye,
lost--lost--lost and ruined sinner as I am--I, even I, have humbled
myself to the ground and prayed as never man prayed before, that the
great God might let this cup pass from me--that he would strike me to
the earth, but spare my brother--that he would pour out the fulness of
his just wrath upon my wicked head, but have mercy, mercy, mercy upon
that unoffending boy. The horrors of three days have swept over me--they
have blasted my youth and left me an old man before my time. Mollie,
there are gray hairs in my head tonight. For forty-eight hours I labored
at the bedside of my poor burned and bruised, but uncomplaining brother,
and then the star of my hope went out and left me in the gloom of
despair. Men take me by the hand and congratulate me, and call me
"lucky" because I was not on the Pennsylvania when she blew up! May God
forgive them, for they know not what they say.

Mollie you do not understand why I was not on that boat--I will tell
you. I left Saint Louis on her, but on the way down, Mr. Brown, the
pilot that was killed by the explosion (poor fellow,) quarreled with
Henry without cause, while I was steering. Henry started out of the
pilot-house--Brown jumped up and collared him--turned him half way
around and struck him in the face!--and him nearly six feet high--struck
my little brother. I was wild from that moment. I left the boat to steer
herself, and avenged the insult--and the Captain said I was right--that
he would discharge Brown in N. Orleans if he could get another pilot,
and would do it in St. Louis, anyhow. Of course both of us