far. I
took a vicious bite out of an India-rubber ring, and covertly broke the
rattle over the kitten's head, but said nothing. Presently my father
said:

"Samuel is a very excellent name."

I saw that trouble was coming. Nothing could prevent it. I laid down my
rattle; over the side of the cradle I dropped my uncle's silver watch,
the clothes-brush, the toy dog, my tin soldier, the nutmeg-grater, and
other matters which I was accustomed to examine, and meditate upon and
make pleasant noises with, and bang and batter and break when I needed
wholesome entertainment. Then I put on my little frock and my little
bonnet, and took my pygmy shoes in one hand and my licorice in the
other, and climbed out on the floor. I said to myself, Now, if the worse
comes to worst, I am ready. Then I said aloud, in a firm voice:

"Father, I cannot, cannot wear the name of Samuel."

"My son!"

"Father, I mean it. I cannot."

"Why?"

"Father, I have an invincible antipathy to that name."

"My son, this is unreasonable. Many great and good men have been named
Samuel."

"Sir, I have yet to hear of the first instance."

"What! There was Samuel the prophet. Was not he great and good?"

"Not so very."

"My son! With His own voice the Lord called him."

"Yes, sir, and had to call him a couple times before he could come!"

And then I sallied forth, and that stern old man sallied forth after
me. He overtook me at noon the following day, and when the interview
was over I had acquired the name of Samuel, and a thrashing, and other
useful information; and by means of this compromise my father's wrath
was appeased and a misunderstanding bridged over which might have become
a permanent rupture if I had chosen to be unreasonable. But just judging
by this episode, what would my father have done to me if I had
ever uttered in his hearing one of the flat, sickly things these
"two-years-olds" say in print nowadays? In my opinion there would have
been a case of infanticide in our family.

AN ENTERTAINING ARTICLE

I take the following paragraph from an article in the Boston ADVERTISER:

AN ENGLISH CRITIC ON MARK TWAIN

Perhaps the most successful flights of humor of Mark Twain have been
descriptions of the persons who did not appreciate his humor at all. We
have become familiar with the Californians who were thrilled with terror
by his burlesque of a newspaper reporter's way of telling a story,
and we have heard of the