aphysician. Moreover, wit is a fighting
thing and a working thing. A man may enjoy humour all by himself; he
may see a joke when no one else sees it; he may see the point and avoid
it. But wit is a sword; it is meant to make people feel the point as
well as see it. All honest people saw the point of Mark Twain's wit.
Not a few dishonest people felt it." The epigram, "Be virtuous, and you
will be eccentric," has become a catchword; and everyone has heard Mark
Twain's reply to the reporter asking for advice as to what to cable his
paper, which had printed the statement that Mark Twain was dead "Say
that the statement is greatly exaggerated." He has admirably taken off
humanity's enduring self-conceit in the statement that there isn't a
Parallel of Latitude but thinks it would have been the Equator if it had
had its rights. There is something peculiarly American in his warning
to young girls not to marry--that is, not to excess! His remarks on
compliments have a delightful and naive freshness. He points out how
embarrassing compliments always are. It is so difficult to take them
naturally. You never know what to say. He had received many
compliments in his lifetime, and they had always embarrassed him--he
always felt that they hadn't said enough!

The incident of Mark Twain's first meeting with Whistler is quaintly
illustrative of one phase of his broader humour. Mark Twain was taken
by a friend to Whistler's studio, just as he was putting the finishing
touches to one of his fantastic studies. Confident of the usual
commendation, Whistler inquired his guest's opinion of the picture.
Mark Twain assumed the air of a connoisseur, and approaching the picture
remarked that it did very well, but "he didn't care much for that
cloud--"; and suiting the action to the word, appeared to be on the
point of rubbing the cloud with his gloved finger. In genuine horror,
Whistler exclaimed: "Don't touch it, the paint's wet!" "Oh, that's all
right," replied Mark with his characteristic drawl: "these aren't my
best gloves, anyhow!" Whereat Whistler recognized a congenial spirit,
and their first hearty laugh together was the beginning of a friendly
and congenial relationship.

I recall an incident in connection with the writing of his
Autobiography. On more than one occasion, he declared that the
Autobiography was going to be something awful--as caustic, fiendish, and
devilish as he could make it. Actually, he was in the h