, his satire, his phrasing had full swing--his letters, almost
from the beginning, were copied as choice reading up and down the Coast.
He made curious blunders, at first, as to the proceedings, but his open
confession of ignorance in the early letters made these blunders their
chief charm. A young man named Gillespie, clerk of the House, coached
him, and in return was christened "Young Jefferson's Manual," a title
which he bore for many years.

A reporter named Rice, on a rival Virginia City paper, the "Union," also
earned for himself a title through those early letters.

Rice concluded to poke fun at the "Enterprise" reports, pointing out
their mistakes. But this was not wise. Clemens, in his next
contribution, admitted that Rice's reports might be parliamentary enough,
but declared his glittering technicalities were only to cover
misstatements of fact. He vowed they were wholly untrustworthy, dubbed
the author of them "The Unreliable," and never thereafter referred to him
by any other term. Carson and the Comstock papers delighted in this
foolery, and Rice became "The Unreliable" for life. There was no real
feeling between Rice and Clemens. They were always the best of friends.

But now we arrive at the story of still another name, one of vastly
greater importance than either of those mentioned, for it is the name
chosen by Samuel Clemens for himself. In those days it was the fashion
for a writer to have a pen-name, especially for his journalistic and
humorous work. Clemens felt that his "Enterprise" letters, copied up and
down the Coast, needed a mark of identity.

He gave the matter a good deal of thought. He wanted something brief and
strong--something that would stick in the mind. It was just at this time
that news came of the death of Capt. Isaiah Sellers, the old pilot who
had signed himself "Mark Twain." Mark Twain! That was the name he
wanted. It was not trivial. It had all the desired qualities. Captain
Sellers would never need it again. It would do no harm to keep it alive
--to give it a new meaning in a new land. Clemens took a trip from Carson
up to Virginia City.

"Joe," he said to Goodman, "I want to sign my articles. I want to be
identified to a wider audience."

"All right, Sam. What name do you want to use Josh?"

"No, I want to sign them Mark Twain. It is an old river term, a
leadsman's call, signifying two fathoms--twelve feet. It has a richness
about it; it was always a pleasant sound for