s manuscript at Hartford.

But a further difficulty had arisen. Bliss was having troubles himself,
this time, with his directors. Many reports of Mark Twain's new book had
been traveling the rounds of the press, some of which declared it was to
be irreverent, even blasphemous, in tone. The title selected, The New
Pilgrim's Progress, was in itself a sacrilege. Hartford was a
conservative place; the American Publishing Company directors were of
orthodox persuasion. They urged Bliss to relieve the company of this
impending disaster of heresy. When the author arrived one or more of
them labored with him in person, without avail. As for Bliss, he was
stanch; he believed in the book thoroughly, from every standpoint. He
declared if the company refused to print it he would resign the
management and publish the book himself. This was an alarming suggestion
to the stockholders. Bliss had returned dividends--a boon altogether too
rare in the company's former history. The objectors retired and were
heard of no more. The manuscript was placed in the hands of Fay and Cox,
illustrators, with an order for about two hundred and fifty pictures.

Fay and Cox turned it over to True Williams, one of the well-known
illustrators of that day. Williams was a man of great talent--of fine
imagination and sweetness of spirit--but it was necessary to lock him in
a room when industry was required, with nothing more exciting than cold
water as a beverage. Clemens himself aided in the illustrating by
obtaining of Moses S. Beach photographs from the large collection he had
brought home.

LXVII

A VISIT TO ELMIRA

Meantime he had skilfully obtained a renewal of the invitation to spend a
week in the Langdon home.

He meant to go by a fast train, but, with his natural gift for
misunderstanding time-tables, of course took a slow one, telegraphing his
approach from different stations along the road. Young Langdon concluded
to go down the line as far as Waverly to meet him. When the New York
train reached there the young man found his guest in the smoking-car,
travel-stained and distressingly clad. Mark Twain was always
scrupulously neat and correct of dress in later years, but in that
earlier day neatness and style had not become habitual and did not give
him comfort. Langdon greeted him warmly but with doubt. Finally he
summoned courage to say, hesitatingly--"You've got some other clothes,
haven't you?"

The arriving guest was not in the le