uld have developed the gifts which he has made no use of in
writing his books, or in any other way, for peoples' pleasure and
benefit outside of his own family and intimate friends, he could
have done more than he has, and a great deal more, even. He is
known to the public as a humorist, but he has much more in him that
is earnest than that is humorous. He has a keen sense of the
ludicrous, notices funny stories and incidents, knows how to tell
them, to improve upon them, and does not forget them.

And again:

When we are all alone at home nine times out of ten he talks about
some very earnest subject (with an occasional joke thrown in), and
he a good deal more often talks upon such subjects than upon the
other kind.

He is as much of a philosopher as anything, I think. I think he
could have done a great deal in this direction if he had studied
while young, for he seems to enjoy reasoning out things, no matter
what; in a great many such directions he has greater ability than in
the gifts which have made him famous.

It was with the keen eyes and just mind of childhood that Susy estimated,
and there is little to add to her valuation.

Susy's biography came to an end that summer after starting to record a
visit which they all made to Keokuk to see Grandma Clemens. They went by
way of the Lakes and down the Mississippi from St. Paul. A pleasant
incident happened that first evening on the river. Soon after nightfall
they entered a shoal crossing. Clemens, standing alone on the
hurricane-deck, heard the big bell forward boom out the call for leads.
Then came the leadsman's long-drawn chant, once so familiar, the
monotonous repeating in river parlance of the depths of water. Presently
the lead had found that depth of water signified by his nom de plume and
the call of "Mark Twain, Mark Twain" floated up to him like a summons
from the past. All at once a little figure came running down the deck,
and Clara confronted him, reprovingly:

"Papa," she said, "I have hunted all over the boat for you. Don't you
know they are calling for you?"

They remained in Keokuk a week, and Susy starts to tell something of
their visit there. She begins:

"We have arrived in Keokuk after a very pleasant----"

The sentence remains unfinished. We cannot know what was the
interruption or what new interest kept her from her task. We can only
regret that the loving little hand d