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eastward had been such an ovation as is only accorded to sovereignty.
Clemens received an invitation to the reunion, but, dreading the long
railway journey, was at first moved to decline. He prepared a letter in
which he made "business" his excuse, and expressed his regret that he
would not be present to see and hear the veterans of the Army of the
Tennessee at the moment when their old commander entered the room and
rose in his place to speak.

"Besides," he said, "I wanted to see the General again anyway and renew
the acquaintance. He would remember me, because I was the person who did
not ask him for an office."

He did not send the letter. Reconsidering, it seemed to him that there
was something strikingly picturesque in the idea of a Confederate
soldier who had been chased for a fortnight in the rain through Ralls
and Monroe counties, Missouri, now being invited to come and give
welcome home to his old imaginary pursuer. It was in the nature of an
imperative command, which he could not refuse to obey.

He accepted and agreed to speak. They had asked him to respond to the
toast of "The Ladies," but for him the subject was worn out. He had
already responded to that toast at least twice. He telegraphed that
there was one class of the community that had always been overlooked
upon such occasions, and that if they would allow him to do so he would
take that class for a toast: the babies. Necessarily they agreed, and he
prepared himself accordingly.

He arrived in Chicago in time for the prodigious procession of welcome.
Grant was to witness the march from a grand reviewing stand, which had
been built out from the second story of the Palmer House. Clemens
had not seen the General since the "embarrassing" introduction in
Washington, twelve years before. Their meeting was characteristic
enough. Carter Harrison, Mayor of Chicago, arriving with Grant, stepped
over to Clemens, and asked him if he wouldn't like to be presented.
Grant also came forward, and a moment later Harrison was saying:

"General, let me present Mr. Clemens, a man almost as great as
yourself." They shook hands; there was a pause of a moment, then Grant
said, looking at him gravely:

"Mr. Clemens, I am not embarrassed, are you?"

So he remembered that first, long-ago meeting. It was a conspicuous
performance. The crowd could not hear the words, but they saw the
greeting and the laugh, and cheered both men.

Following the procession, there