rtise them or to brag
about them. Well, I read on a little, and learned that a bench-show was
not a bench-show--but dogs, not benches at all--only dogs. I began to be
interested, and as there was nothing else to do I read every bit of the
advertisement, and learned that the biggest thing in this show was a St.
Bernard dog that weighed one hundred and forty-five pounds. Before I
got to New York I was so interested in the bench-shows that I made up
my mind to go to one the first chance I got. Down on Sixth Avenue, near
where that back door might be, I began to take things leisurely. I did
not like to be in too much of a hurry. There was not anything in sight
that looked like a back door. The nearest approach to it was a cigar
store. So I went in and bought a cigar, not too expensive, but it cost
enough to pay for any information I might get and leave the dealer a
fair profit. Well, I did not like to be too abrupt, to make the man
think me crazy, by asking him if that was the way to Daly's Theatre, so
I started gradually to lead up to the subject, asking him first if that
was the way to Castle Garden. When I got to the real question, and he
said he would show me the way, I was astonished. He sent me through a
long hallway, and I found myself in a back yard. Then I went through a
long passageway and into a little room, and there before my eyes was a
big St. Bernard dog lying on a bench. There was another door beyond and
I went there, and was met by a big, fierce man with a fur cap on and
coat off, who remarked, "Phwat do yez want?" I told him I wanted to see
Mr. Daly. "Yez can't see Mr. Daly this time of night," he responded.
I urged that I had an appointment with Mr. Daly, and gave him my card,
which did not seem to impress him much. "Yez can't get in and yez can't
shmoke here. Throw away that cigar. If yez want to see Mr. Daly, yez 'll
have to be after going to the front door and buy a ticket, and then if
yez have luck and he's around that way yez may see him." I was getting
discouraged, but I had one resource left that had been of good service
in similar emergencies. Firmly but kindly I told him my name was Mark
Twain, and I awaited results. There was none. He was not fazed a bit.
"Phwere's your order to see Mr. Daly?" he asked. I handed him the note,
and he examined it intently. "My friend," I remarked, "you can read that
better if you hold it the other side up." But he took no notice of the
suggestion, and finally asked: