ttle while.
Howells tells us that when he met him some months after the trial ended,
and was tempted to mention it, Clemens discouraged any discussion of the
event. Says Howells:

He would only say the man had suffered enough; as if the man had
expiated his wrong, and he was not going to do anything to renew his
penalty. I found that very curious, very delicate. His continued
blame could not come to the sufferer's knowledge, but he felt it his
duty to forbear it.

It was one hundred years, that 19th of April, since the battles of
Lexington and Concord, and there was to be a great celebration. The
Howellses had visited Hartford in March, and the Clemenses were invited
to Cambridge for the celebration. Only Clemens could go, which in the
event proved a good thing perhaps; for when Clemens and Howells set
out for Concord they did not go over to Boston to take the train, but
decided to wait for it at Cambridge. Apparently it did not occur to them
that the train would be jammed the moment the doors were opened at the
Boston station; but when it came along they saw how hopeless was their
chance. They had special invitations and passage from Boston, but these
were only mockeries now. It yeas cold and chilly, and they forlornly set
out in search of some sort of a conveyance. They tramped around in
the mud and raw wind, but vehicles were either filled or engaged, and
drivers and occupants were inclined to jeer at them. Clemens was taken
with an acute attack of indigestion, which made him rather dismal
and savage. Their effort finally ended with his trying to run down a
tally-ho which was empty inside and had a party of Harvard students
riding atop. The students, who did not recognize their would-be fare,
enjoyed the race. They encouraged their pursuer, and perhaps their
driver, with merriment and cheers. Clemens was handicapped by having to
run in the slippery mud, and soon "dropped by the wayside."

"I am glad," says Howells, "I cannot recall what he said when he came
back to me."

They hung about a little longer, then dragged themselves home, slipped
into the house, and built up a fine, cheerful fire on the hearth. They
proposed to practise a deception on Mrs. Howells by pretending they had
been to Concord and returned. But it was no use. Their statements were
flimsy, and guilt was plainly written on their faces. Howells recalls
this incident delightfully, and expresses the belief that the humor of
the