He would say:

"Now you've knocked everything out of my head."

Then, of course, I would apologize and say I was sorry, which would
rectify matters, though half an hour later it might happen again. I
became lightning-proof at last; also I learned better to select the
psychological moment for the correction.

There was a humorous complexion to the dictations which perhaps I have
not conveyed to the reader at all; humor was his natural breath and
life, and was not wholly absent in his most somber intervals.

But poetry was there as well. His presence was full of it: the grandeur
of his figure; the grace of his movement; the music of his measured
speech. Sometimes there were long pauses when he was wandering in
distant valleys of thought and did not speak at all. At such times he
had a habit of folding and refolding the sleeve of his dressing-gown
around his wrist, regarding it intently, as it seemed. His hands were so
fair and shapely; the palms and finger-tips as pink as those of a child.
Then when he spoke he was likely to fling back his great, white mane,
his eyes half closed yet showing a gleam of fire between the lids, his
clenched fist lifted, or his index-finger pointing, to give force and
meaning to his words. I cannot recall the picture too often, or remind
myself too frequently how precious it was to be there, and to see him
and to hear him. I do not know why I have not said before that he
smoked continually during these dictations--probably as an aid to
thought--though he smoked at most other times, for that matter. His
cigars were of that delicious fragrance which characterizes domestic
tobacco; but I had learned early to take refuge in another brand when he
offered me one. They were black and strong and inexpensive, and it was
only his early training in the printing-office and on the river that had
seasoned him to tobacco of that temper. Rich, admiring friends used to
send him quantities of expensive imported cigars; but he seldom touched
them, and they crumbled away or were smoked by visitors. Once, to a
minister who proposed to send him something very special, he wrote:

I should accept your hospitable offer at once but for the fact that
I couldn't do it and remain honest. That is to say, if I allowed
you to send me what you believed to be good cigars it would
distinctly mean that I meant to smoke them, whereas I should do
nothing of the kind. I know a good cigar better than you do,