or lingered on his palate and filled his nostrils after his
withdrawal from the platform. The Authors' Readings when they had won
their brief popularity abounded in suggestion for him. Reading from
one's book was not so bad as giving a lecture written for a lecture's
purpose, and he was willing at last to compromise. He had a magnificent
scheme for touring the country with Aldrich and Mr. G. W. Cable and
myself, in a private car, with a cook of our own, and every facility for
living on the fat of the land. We should read only four times a week, in
an entertainment that should not last more than an hour and a half. He
would be the impresario, and would guarantee us others at least
seventy-five dollars a day, and pay every expense of the enterprise,
which he provisionally called the Circus, himself. But Aldrich and I
were now no longer in those earlier thirties when we so cheerfully
imagined 'Memorable Murders' for subscription publication; we both
abhorred public appearances, and, at any rate, I was going to Europe for
a year. So the plan fell through except as regarded Mr. Cable, who, in
his way, was as fine a performer as Clemens, and could both read and sing
the matter of his books. On a far less stupendous scale they two made
the rounds of the great lecturing circuit together. But I believe a
famous lecture-manager had charge of them and travelled with them.

He was a most sanguine man, a most amiable person, and such a believer in
fortune that Clemens used to say of him, as he said of one of his early
publishers, that you could rely upon fifty per cent. of everything he
promised. I myself many years later became a follower of this hopeful
prophet, and I can testify that in my case at least he was able to keep
ninety-nine, and even a hundred, per cent. of his word. It was I who was
much nearer failing of mine, for I promptly began to lose sleep from the
nervous stress of my lecturing and from the gratifying but killing
receptions afterward, and I was truly in that state from insomnia which
Clemens recognized in the brief letter I got from him in the Western
city, after half a dozen wakeful nights. He sardonically congratulated
me on having gone into "the lecture field," and then he said: "I know
where you are now. You are in hell."

It was this perdition which he re-entered when he undertook that
round-the-world lecturing tour for the payment of the debts left to him
by the bankruptcy of his firm in the publishing bu