country of the
globe.

The formal contract for this great undertaking was signed in Rome in
April, 1886, and Webster immediately prepared to go over to consult with
his Holiness in person as to certain details, also, no doubt, for the
newspaper advertising which must result from such an interview.

It was decided to carry a handsome present to the Pope in the form of a
specially made edition of the Grant Memoirs in a rich-casket, and it was
Clemens's idea that the binding of the book should be solid gold--this
to be done by Tiffany at an estimated cost of about three thousand
dollars. In the end, however, the binding was not gold, but the
handsomest that could be designed of less precious and more appropriate
materials.

Webster sailed toward the end of June, and was warmly received and
highly honored in Rome. The great figures of the Grant success had
astonished Europe even more than America, where spectacular achievements
were more common. That any single publication should pay a profit to
author and publisher of six hundred thousand dollars was a thing
which belonged with the wonders of Aladdin's garden. It was natural,
therefore, that Webster, who had rubbed the magic lamp with this result,
who was Mark Twain's partner, and who had now traveled across the seas
to confer with the Pope himself, should be received with royal honors.
In letters written at the time, Webster relates how he found it
necessary to have an imposing carriage and a footman to maintain the
dignity of his mission, and how, after various impressive formalities,
he was granted a private audience, a very special honor indeed.
Webster's letter gives us a picture of his Holiness which is worth
preserving.

We--[Mrs. Webster, who, the reader will remember, was Annie Moffett,
a daughter of Pamela Clemens, was included in the invitation to the
Presence Chamber.]--found ourselves in a room perhaps twenty-five by
thirty-five feet; the furniture was gilt, upholstered in light-red
silk, and the side-walls were hung with the same material. Against
the wall by which we entered and in the middle space was a large
gilt throne chair, upholstered in red plush, and upon it sat a man
bowed with age; his hair was silvery white and as pure as the driven
snow. His head was partly covered with a white skullcap; he was
dressed in a long white cassock which reached to his feet, which
rested upon a red-plush cushion and