fore on their journey westward around the
world.

And again Susy was there, not waving her welcome in the glare of the
lights as she had waved her farewell to us thirteen months before, but
lying white and fair in her coffin in the house where she was born.

They buried her with the Langdon relatives and the little brother, and
ordered a headstone with some lines which they had found in Australia:

Warm summer sun shine kindly here;
Warm southern wind blow softly here;
Green sod above lie light, lie light
Good night, dear heart, good night, good night.
--[These lines at first were generally attributed to Clemens himself.
When this was reported to him he ordered the name of the Australian
poet, Robert Richardson, cut beneath them. The word "southern" in the
original read "northern," as in Australia, the warm wind is from the
north. Richardson died in England in 1901.]

CXCIV. WINTER IN TEDWORTH SQUARE

Mrs. Clemens, Clara, and Jean, with Katie Leary, sailed for England
without delay. Arriving there, they gave up the house in Guildford, and
in a secluded corner of Chelsea, on the tiny and then almost unknown
Tedworth Square (No. 23), they hid themselves away for the winter. They
did not wish to be visited; they did not wish their whereabouts known
except to a few of their closest friends. They wanted to be alone with
their sorrow, and not a target for curious attention. Perhaps not a
dozen people in London knew their address and the outside world was
ignorant of it altogether. It was through this that a wild report
started that Mark Twain's family had deserted him--that ill and in
poverty he was laboring alone to pay his debts. This report--exploited
in five-column head-lines by a hyper-hysterical paper of that period
received wide attention.

James Ross Clemens, of the St. Louis branch, a nephew of Frau von
Versen, was in London just then, and wrote at once, through Chatto &
Windus, begging Mark Twain to command his relative's purse. The reply to
this kind offer was an invitation to tea, and "Young Doctor Jim," as he
was called, found his famous relative by no means abandoned or in want,
but in pleasant quarters, with his family still loyal. The general
impression survived, however, that Mark Twain was sorely pressed, and
the New York Herald headed a public benefit fund for the payment of his
debts. The Herald subscribed one thousand dollars on its own account,
an