ailroads, and we must be
grateful."

Carriages were waiting for them when the boat landed in the afternoon,
and the party got in and were driven to a house which had been
identified as Eugene Field's birthplace. A bronze tablet recording this
fact had been installed, and this was to be the unveiling. The place
was not in an inviting quarter of the town. It stood in what is known as
Walsh's Row--was fashionable enough once, perhaps, but long since fallen
into disrepute. Ragged children played in the doorways, and thirsty
lodgers were making trips with tin pails to convenient bar-rooms.
A curious nondescript audience assembled around the little group of
dedicators, wondering what it was all about. The tablet was concealed
by the American flag, which could be easily pulled away by an attached
cord. Governor Francis spoke a few words, to the effect that they had
gathered here to unveil a tablet to an American poet, and that it was
fitting that Mark Twain should do this. They removed their hats, and
Clemens, his white hair blowing in the wind, said:

"My friends; we are here with reverence and respect to commemorate and
enshrine in memory the house where was born a man who, by his life,
made bright the lives of all who knew him, and by his literary efforts
cheered the thoughts of thousands who never knew him. I take pleasure in
unveiling the tablet of Eugene Field."

The flag fell and the bronze inscription was revealed. By this time
the crowd, generally, had recognized who it was that was speaking. A
working-man proposed three cheers for Mark Twain, and they were
heartily given. Then the little party drove away, while the neighborhood
collected to regard the old house with a new interest.

It was reported to Clemens later that there was some dispute as to the
identity of the Field birthplace. He said:

"Never mind. It is of no real consequence whether it is his birthplace
or not. A rose in any other garden will bloom as sweet."

CCXXIII. AT YORK HARBOR

They decided to spend the summer at York Harbor, Maine. They engaged a
cottage, there, and about the end of June Mr. Rogers brought his yacht
Kanawha to their water-front at Riverdale, and in perfect weather took
them to Maine by sea. They landed at York Harbor and took possession of
their cottage, The Pines, one of their many attractive summer lodges.
Howells, at Kittery Point, was not far away, and everything promised a
happy summer.

Mrs. Clemens wrote to