always fond of them, and they often sought him out. Once, long
afterward, at a hotel, he wanted a boy to polish his shoes, and had rung
a number of times without getting any response. Presently, he thought he
heard somebody approaching in the hall outside. He flung open the door,
and a small, youngish-looking person, who seemed to have been hesitating
at the door, made a movement as though to depart hastily. Clemens
grabbed him by the collar.

"Look here," he said, "I've been waiting and ringing here for half an
hour. Now I want you to take those shoes, and polish them, quick. Do you
hear?"

The slim, youthful person trembled a good deal, and said: "I would,
Mr. Clemens, I would indeed, sir, if I could. But I'm a minister of the
Gospel, and I'm not prepared for such work."

XXXIX. PHILOSOPHY AND POETRY

There was a side to Samuel Clemens that in those days few of his
associates saw. This was the poetic, the philosophic, the contemplative
side. Joseph Goodman recognized this phase of his character, and, while
he perhaps did not regard it as a future literary asset, he delighted
in it, and in their hours of quiet association together encouraged its
exhibition. It is rather curious that with all his literary penetration
Goodman did not dream of a future celebrity for Clemens. He afterward
said:

"If I had been asked to prophesy which of the two men, Dan de Quille or
Sam, would become distinguished, I should have said De Quille. Dan
was talented, industrious, and, for that time and place, brilliant.
Of course, I recognized the unusualness of Sam's gifts, but he was
eccentric and seemed to lack industry; it is not likely that I should
have prophesied fame for him then."

Goodman, like MacFarlane in Cincinnati, half a dozen years before,
though by a different method, discovered and developed the deeper vein.
Often the two, dining together in a French restaurant, discussed
life, subtler philosophies, recalled various phases of human history,
remembered and recited the poems that gave them especial enjoyment. "The
Burial of Moses," with its noble phrasing and majestic imagery, appealed
strongly to Clemens, and he recited it with great power. The first
stanza in particular always stirred him, and it stirred his hearer as
well. With eyes half closed and chin lifted, a lighted cigar between his
fingers, he would lose himself in the music of the stately lines.

By Nebo's lonely mountain,
On this side J