ity walls, the castellated gates, the
ivy-grown, foliage-sheltered, most noble and picturesque ruin of St.
Mary's Abbey, suggesting their date, say five hundred years ago, in the
heart of Crusading times and the glory of English chivalry and romance;
the vast Cathedral of York, with its worn carvings and quaintly pictured
windows, preaching of still remoter days; the outlandish names of
streets and courts and byways that stand as a record and a memorial,
all these centuries, of Danish dominion here in still earlier times;
the hint here and there of King Arthur and his knights and their
bloody fights with Saxon oppressors round about this old city more than
thirteen hundred years gone by; and, last of all, the melancholy old
stone coffins and sculptured inscriptions, a venerable arch and a hoary
tower of stone that still remain and are kissed by the sun and caressed
by the shadows every day, just as the sun and the shadows have kissed
and caressed them every lagging day since the Roman Emperor's soldiers
placed them here in the times when Jesus the Son of Mary walked
the streets of Nazareth a youth, with no more name or fame than the
Yorkshire boy who is loitering down this street this moment.

Their destination was Edinburgh, where they remained a month. Mrs.
Clemens's health gave way on their arrival there, and her husband,
knowing the name of no other physician in the place, looked up Dr.
John Brown, author of Rab and His Friends, and found in him not only
a skilful practitioner, but a lovable companion, to whom they all
became deeply attached. Little Susy, now seventeen months old,
became his special favorite. He named her Megalops, because of her
great eyes.

Mrs. Clemens regained her strength and they returned to London.
Clemens, still urged to lecture, finally agreed with George Dolby to
a week's engagement, and added a promise that after taking his wife
and daughter back to America he would return immediately for a more
extended course. Dolby announced him to appear at the Queen's
Concert Rooms, Hanover Square, for the week of October 13-18, his
lecture to be the old Sandwich Islands talk that seven years before
had brought him his first success. The great hall, the largest in
London, was thronged at each appearance, and the papers declared
that Mark Twain had no more than "whetted the public appetite" for
his hum