ch the world knows today one of the foremost American authors. Yet,
in those early days in Hannibal, he had no idea of writing. Indeed,
his days were so busy it is not likely he thought much of the future
at all. He was the leader of a band of boys that played Bandit, Pirate
and Indian. Sam Clemens was always chief. He led the way to the caves
whose chambers reached far back under the cliffs and even, perhaps,
under the river itself.

When he was a man, Mr. Clemens wrote two books telling of these early
days in Hannibal. "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" and "Huckleberry
Finn." "Tom Sawyer" was himself, and the incidents in the book all had
their foundation in the days of his boyhood. The cave, as you may
know, plays an important part in the latter story. In "Tom Sawyer,"
Indian Joe dies in the cave. There was an Indian Joe in Hannibal and
while he did not die in the cave, he was lost there for days and was
living on bats when found. This incident made a strong impression on
young Samuel Clemens and he never forgot it. It was in the Clemen's
house that Tom gave the cat pain-killer; there, too, that he induced a
crowd of boys to white-wash the fence all one Saturday morning. It was
at the Clemens' home, too, that a small boy in his night clothes came
tumbling down from an over-hung trellis upon the merry crowd cooling
taffy in the snow.

Such happenings were part of young Sam's life. He lived the
out-of-doors and, when grown to manhood, he could recall all the
sports and pleasures of those days. He cherished the memory of his
boyhood friends and so wrote of "Huck" Finn, making him like Tom
Blakenship, one of the riotous, freedom-loving members of Sam Clemens'
band.

These boys crowded many adventures into a few years. Hannibal was the
scene of stormy times. Black slaves were sold in the open market.
Desperadoes roamed the streets. Lawlessness was everywhere and it was
not strange that the residents of Hannibal did not think Sam Clemens
amounted to much and prophesied that he would never grow up to follow
a respectable calling.

Yet when his father died, Sam went to work in his brother's printing
shop. Printed matter began to interest him. Then one day, in the dusty
street of Hannibal, this half-grown, lively boy picked up a scrap of
paper. A leaf torn from a history! Where did it come from? No one
knows.

Books were not plentiful then in that little town. Yet, on this paper
the fun-loving Sam Clemens read for the fir