could see by the sound of his voice that he didn't think much of the
pretext, and was vexed with Parker for getting in ahead with a
fictitious ailing client. Rev. Mr. Twichell followed, and said he had to
go now because he must take the midnight train for Boston. Boston was
the first place that occurred to him, I suppose.

It was only a quarter to eleven when they began to distribute pretexts.
At ten minutes to eleven all those people were out of the house. When
nobody was left but George and me I was cheerful--I had no compunctions
of conscience, no griefs of any kind. But George was beyond speech,
because he held the honor and credit of the family above his own, and he
was ashamed that this smirch had been put upon it. I told him to go to
bed and try to sleep it off. I went to bed myself. At breakfast in the
morning when George was passing a cup of coffee, I saw it tremble in his
hand. I knew by that sign that there was something on his mind. He
brought the cup to me and asked impressively,

"Mr. Clemens, how far is it from the front door to the upper gate?"

I said, "It is a hundred and twenty-five steps."

He said, "Mr. Clemens, you can start at the front door and you can go
plumb to the upper gate and tread on one of them cigars every time."

It wasn't true in detail, but in essentials it was.

The subject under discussion on the night in question was Dreams. The
talk passed from mouth to mouth in the usual serene way.

I do not now remember what form my views concerning dreams took at the
time. I don't remember now what my notion about dreams was then, but I
do remember telling a dream by way of illustrating some detail of my
speech, and I also remember that when I had finished it Rev. Dr. Burton
made that doubting remark which contained that word I have already
spoken of as having been uttered by my mother, in some such connection,
forty or fifty years before. I was probably engaged in trying to make
those people believe that now and then, by some accident, or otherwise,
a dream which was prophetic turned up in the dreamer's mind. The date of
my memorable dream was about the beginning of May, 1858. It was a
remarkable dream, and I had been telling it several times every year for
more than fifteen years--and now I was telling it again, here in the
club.

In 1858 I was a steersman on board the swift and popular New Orleans and
St. Louis packet, "Pennsylvania," Captain Kleinfelter. I had been lent
to Mr. Br