and across the tree-tops. At the top of the
house was what became Clemens's favorite retreat, the billiard-room, and
here and there were unexpected little balconies, which one could step
out upon for the view.

Below was a wide, covered veranda, the "ombra," as they called it,
secluded from the public eye--a favorite family gathering-place on
pleasant days.

But a house might easily have all these things without being more than
usually attractive, and a house with a great deal less might have
been as full of charm; only it seemed just the proper setting for that
particular household, and undoubtedly it acquired the personality of its
occupants.

Howells assures us that there never was another home like it, and we may
accept his statement. It was unique. It was the home of one of the most
unusual and unaccountable personalities in the world, yet was perfectly
and serenely ordered. Mark Twain was not responsible for this blissful
condition. He was its beacon-light; it was around Mrs. Clemens that its
affairs steadily revolved.

If in the four years and more of marriage Clemens had made advancement
in culture and capabilities, Olivia Clemens also had become something
more than the half-timid, inexperienced girl he had first known. In a
way her education had been no less notable than his. She had worked and
studied, and her half-year of travel and entertainment abroad had given
her opportunity for acquiring knowledge and confidence. Her vision
of life had vastly enlarged; her intellect had flowered; her grasp of
practicalities had become firm and sure.

In spite of her delicate physical structure, her continued uncertainty
of health, she capably undertook the management of their large new
house, and supervised its economies. Any one of her undertakings was
sufficient for one woman, but she compassed them all. No children had
more careful direction than hers. No husband had more devoted attendance
and companionship. No household was ever directed with a sweeter and
gentler grace, or with greater perfection of detail. When the great ones
of the world came to visit America's most picturesque literary figure
she gave welcome to them all, and filled her place at his side with such
sweet and capable dignity that those who came to pay their duties to
him often returned to pay even greater devotion to his companion. Says
Howells:

She was, in a way, the loveliest person I have ever seen--the
gentlest, the kindest, w