le,
tender side of Sellers--the best side--the side which Clemens and
Howells themselves cared for most, is not there. Chapter III of Mark
Twain's novel, The American Claimant, contains a scene between Colonel
Sellers and Washington Hawkins which presents the extravagance of the
Colonel's materialization scheme. It is a modified version of one of the
scenes in the play, and is as amusing and unoffending as any.

The authors' rollicking joy in their work convinced them that they had
produced a masterpiece for which the public in general, and the actors
in particular, were waiting. Howells went back to Boston tired out, but
elate in the prospect of imminent fortune.

CXLVI. DISTINGUISHED VISITORS

Meantime, while Howells had been in Hartford working at the play with
Clemens, Matthew Arnold had arrived in Boston. On inquiring for Howells,
at his home, the visitor was told that he had gone to see Mark Twain.
Arnold was perhaps the only literary Englishman left who had not
accepted Mark Twain at his larger value. He seemed surprised and said:

"Oh, but he doesn't like that sort of thing, does he?"

To which Mrs. Howells replied:

"He likes Mr. Clemens very much, and he thinks him one of the greatest
men he ever knew."

Arnold proceeded to Hartford to lecture, and one night Howells and
Clemens went to meet him at a reception. Says Howells:

While his hand laxly held mine in greeting I saw his eyes fixed
intensely on the other side of the room. "Who--who in the world is
that?" I looked and said, "Oh, that is Mark Twain." I do not
remember just how their instant encounter was contrived by Arnold's
wish; but I have the impression that they were not parted for long
during the evening, and the next night Arnold, as if still under the
glamour of that potent presence, was at Clemens's house.

He came there to dine with the Twichells and the Rev. Dr. Edwin P.
Parker. Dr. Parker and Arnold left together, and, walking quietly
homeward, discussed the remarkable creature whose presence they had just
left. Clemens had been at his best that night--at his humorous best. He
had kept a perpetual gale of laughter going, with a string of comment
and anecdote of a kind which Twichell once declared the world had never
before seen and would never see again. Arnold seemed dazed by it, unable
to come out from under its influence. He repeated some of the things
Mark Twain had said; thoughtfully, as if tryin