asked if she might ring for the nurse. Her mother
asked:

"Is she crying hard?"--meaning cross, ugly.

"Well, no, mamma. It is a weary, lonesome cry."

It is a pleasure to me to recall various incidents which reveal the
delicacies of feeling that were so considerable a part of her budding
character. Such a revelation came once in a way which, while creditable
to her heart, was defective in another direction. She was in her
eleventh year then. Her mother had been making the Christmas purchases,
and she allowed Susy to see the presents which were for Patrick's
children. Among these was a handsome sled for Jimmy, on which a stag was
painted; also, in gilt capitals, the word "Deer." Susy was excited and
joyous over everything, until she came to this sled. Then she became
sober and silent--yet the sled was the choicest of all the gifts. Her
mother was surprised, and also disappointed, and said:

"Why, Susy, doesn't it please you? Isn't it fine?"

Susy hesitated, and it was plain that she did not want to say the thing
that was in her mind. However, being urged, she brought it haltingly
out:

"Well, mamma, it _is_ fine, and of course it _did_ cost a good
deal--but--but--why should that be mentioned?"

Seeing that she was not understood, she reluctantly pointed to that word
"Deer." It was her orthography that was at fault, not her heart. She had
inherited both from her mother.

MARK TWAIN.

(_To be Continued._)

NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW

No. DCI.

OCTOBER 19, 1906.

CHAPTERS FROM MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY.--IV.

BY MARK TWAIN.

When Susy was thirteen, and was a slender little maid with plaited tails
of copper-tinged brown hair down her back, and was perhaps the busiest
bee in the household hive, by reason of the manifold studies, health
exercises and recreations she had to attend to, she secretly, and of her
own motion, and out of love, added another task to her labors--the
writing of a biography of me. She did this work in her bedroom at night,
and kept her record hidden. After a little, the mother discovered it and
filched it, and let me see it; then told Susy what she had done, and how
pleased I was, and how proud. I remember that time with a deep
pleasure. I had had compliments before, but none that touched me like
this; none that could approach it for value in my eyes. It has kept that
place always since. I have had no compliment