s under his
feet, and behold he was a magnificent success!--the ancient symbol
of California savagery, snarling at the approaching type of high and
progressive civilization, the first Overland locomotive! I just
think that was nothing less than an inspiration.--[The "bear" was
that which has always appeared on the Overland cover; the "two
lines" formed a railway track under his feet. Clemens's original
letter contained crude sketches illustrating these things.]

Among the Boston group was another Californian, Ralph Keeler, an
eccentric, gifted, and altogether charming fellow, whom Clemens had
known on the Pacific slope. Keeler had been adopted by the Boston
writers, and was grateful and happy accordingly. He was poor of
purse, but inexhaustibly rich in the happier gifts of fortune. He was
unfailingly buoyant, light-hearted, and hopeful. On an infinitesimal
capital he had made a tour of many lands, and had written of it for the
Atlantic. In that charmed circle he was as overflowingly happy as if he
had been admitted to the company of the gods. Keeler was affectionately
regarded by all who knew him, and he offered a sort of worship in
return. He often accompanied Mark Twain on his lecture engagements to
the various outlying towns, and Clemens brought him back to his hotel
for breakfast, where they had good, enjoyable talks together. Once
Keeler came eagerly to the hotel and made his way up to Clemens's room.

"Come with me," he said. "Quick!"

"What is it? What's happened?"

"Don't wait to talk. Come with me."

They tramped briskly through the streets till they reached the public
library, entered, Keeler leading the way, not stopping till he faced a
row of shelves filled with books. He pointed at one of them, his face
radiant with joy.

"Look," he said. "Do you see it?"

Clemens looked carefully now and identified one of the books as a
still-born novel which Keeler had published.

"This is a library," said Keeler, eagerly, "and they've got it!"

His whole being was aglow with the wonder of it. He had been
investigating; the library records showed that in the two years the
book had been there it had been taken out and read three times! It never
occurred to Clemens even to smile. Knowing Mark Twain, one would guess
that his eyes were likely to be filled with tears.

In his book about Mark Twain, Howells tells of a luncheon which Keeler
gave to his more famous associates--Aldrich, Fiel