born wanted to be benefactor in his turn, and pay back some of his
debt. The man said it could all be paid with ten dollars--that it had
been so long since he had owned that amount of money that it would seem
a fortune to him, and he should be grateful beyond words if the Captain
could spare him that amount. The Captain spared him ten broad
twenty-dollar gold pieces, and made him take them in spite of his modest
protestations, and gave him his address and said he must never fail to
give him notice when he needed grateful service.

Several months later Harte stumbled upon the man in the street. He was
most comfortably drunk, and pleasant and chatty. Harte remarked upon the
splendidly and movingly dramatic incident of the restaurant, and said,

"How curious and fortunate and happy and interesting it was that you two
should come together, after that long separation, and at exactly the
right moment to save you from disaster and turn your defeat by the
waiters into a victory. A preacher could make a great sermon out of
that, for it does look as if the hand of Providence was in it."

The hero's face assumed a sweetly genial expression, and he said,

"Well now, it wasn't Providence this time. I was running the
arrangements myself."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, I hadn't ever seen the gentleman before. I was at the next table,
with my back to you the whole time he was telling about it. I saw my
chance, and slipped out and fetched the two waiters with me and offered
to give them a commission out of what I could get out of the Captain if
they would do a quarrel act with me and give me an opening. So, then,
after a minute or two I straggled back, and you know the rest of it as
well as I do."

MARK TWAIN.

(_To be Continued._)

FOOTNOTES:

[18] This was tried. I well remember it.--M. T., _October, '06_.

[19] Can this be correct? I think there must be some mistake.--M. T.

NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW

No. DCXXIII.

OCTOBER, 1907.

CHAPTERS FROM MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY.--XXIII.

BY MARK TWAIN.

[Sidenote: (1845.)]

[_Dictated March 9, 1906._] ... I am talking of a time sixty years ago,
and upwards. I remember the names of some of those schoolmates, and, by
fitful glimpses, even their faces rise dimly before me for a
moment--only just long enough to be recognized; then they vanish. I
catch glimpses of George Robards, the Latin pupil--slender,