g
with this I would have caught up entirely with my New York Tribune
correspondence and nearly up with the San Francisco.

They wanted him also to read the address to the Emperor, but he pointed
out that the American consul was the proper person for that office. He
tells how the address was presented:

August 26th. The Imperial carriages were in waiting at eleven, and at
twelve we were at the palace....

The Consul for Odessa read the address and the Czar said frequently,
"Good--very good; indeed"--and at the close, "I am very, very grateful."

It was not improper for him to set down all this, and much more, in his
own note-book--not then for publication. It was in fact a very proper
record--for today.

One incident of the imperial audience Mark Twain omitted from his book,
perhaps because the humor of it had not yet become sufficiently evident.
"The humorous perception of a thing is a pretty slow growth sometimes,"
he once remarked. It was about seventeen years before he could laugh
enjoyably at a slight mistake he made at the Emperor's reception. He set
down a memorandum of it, then, for fear it might be lost:

There were a number of great dignitaries of the Empire there, and
although, as a general thing, they were dressed in citizen's
clothing, I observed that the most of them wore a very small piece
of ribbon in the lapels of their coats. That little touch of color
struck my fancy, and it seemed to me a good idea to add it to my own
attractions; not imagining that it had any special significance. So
I stepped aside, hunted up a bit of red ribbon, and ornamented my
lapel with it. Presently, Count Festetics, the Grand Master of
ceremonies, and the only man there who was gorgeously arrayed, in
full official costume, began to show me a great many attentions. He
was particularly polite, and pleasant, and anxious to be of service
to me. Presently, he asked me what order of nobility I belonged to?
I said, "I didn't belong to any." Then he asked me what order of
knighthood I belonged to? I said, "None." Then he asked me what
the red ribbon in my buttonhole stood for? I saw, at once, what an
ass I had been making of myself, and was accordingly confused and
embarrassed. I said the first thing that came into my mind, and
that was that the ribbon was merely the symbol of a club of
journalists to which I belonged, and I was not pursued with