lf in his note-book set down this aphorism:

"Do right and you will be conspicuous."

CCXV. SUMMER AT "THE LAIR"

In June Clemens took the family to Saranac Lake, to Ampersand. They
occupied a log cabin which he called "The Lair," on the south shore,
near the water's edge, a remote and beautiful place where, as had
happened before, they were so comfortable and satisfied that they hoped
to return another summer. There were swimming and boating and long walks
in the woods; the worry and noise of the world were far away. They gave
little enough attention to the mails. They took only a weekly paper, and
were likely to allow it to lie in the postoffice uncalled for. Clemens,
especially, loved the place, and wrote to Twichell:

I am on the front porch (lower one-main deck) of our little bijou of
a dwelling-house. The lake edge (Lower Saranac) is so nearly under
me that I can't see the shore, but only the water, small-poxed with
rain splashes--for there is a heavy down pour. It is charmingly
like sitting snuggled up on a ship's deck with the stretching sea
all around but very much more satisfactory, for at sea a rainstorm
is depressing, while here of course the effect engendered is just a
deep sense of comfort & contentment. The heavy forest shuts us
solidly in on three sides--there are no neighbors. There are
beautiful little tan-colored impudent squirrels about. They take
tea 5 P.M. (not invited) at the table in the woods where Jean does
my typewriting, & one of them has been brave enough to sit upon
Jean's knee with his tail curved over his back & munch his food.
They come to dinner 7 P.M. on the front porch (not invited), but
Clara drives them away. It is an occupation which requires some
industry & attention to business. They all have the one name
--Blennerhasset, from Burr's friend--& none of them answers to it
except when hungry.

Clemens could work at "The Lair," often writing in shady seclusions
along the shore, and he finished there the two-part serial,--[
Published in Harper's Magazine for January and February, 1902.]--"The
Double-Barrelled Detective Story," intended originally as a burlesque on
Sherlock Holmes. It did not altogether fulfil its purpose, and is hardly
to be ranked as one of Mark Twain's successes. It contains, however, one
paragraph at least by which it is likely to be remembered, a hoax--his
last one--on the reader. I