me, he didn't dare to go beyond my
clothes. He never ventured beyond that old safe frontier. When he had
finished with my clothes he had said all the kind things, the pleasant
things, the complimentary things he could risk. Then he dropped back on
Nasby.

Yesterday I found this clipping in the pocket of one of those ancient
memorandum-books of mine. It is of the date of thirty-nine years ago,
and both the paper and the ink are yellow with the bitterness that I
felt in that old day when I clipped it out to preserve it and brood over
it, and grieve about it. I will copy it here, to wit:

A correspondent of the Philadelphia "Press," writing of one of
Schuyler Colfax's receptions, says of our Washington correspondent:
"Mark Twain, the delicate humorist, was present: quite a lion, as
he deserves to be. Mark is a bachelor, faultless in taste, whose
snowy vest is suggestive of endless quarrels with Washington
washerwomen; but the heroism of Mark is settled for all time, for
such purity and smoothness were never seen before. His lavender
gloves might have been stolen from some Turkish harem, so delicate
were they in size; but more likely--anything else were more likely
than that. In form and feature he bears some resemblance to the
immortal Nasby; but whilst Petroleum is brunette to the core, Twain
is golden, amber-hued, melting, blonde."

Let us return to Susy's biography now, and get the opinion of one who is
unbiassed:

_From Susy's Biography._

Papa's appearance has been described many times, but very
incorrectly. He has beautiful gray hair, not any too thick or any
too long, but just right; a Roman nose, which greatly improves the
beauty of his features; kind blue eyes and a small mustache. He has
a wonderfully shaped head and profile. He has a very good
figure--in short, he is an extrodinarily fine looking man. All his
features are perfect, except that he hasn't extrodinary teeth. His
complexion is very fair, and he doesn't ware a beard. He is a very
good man and a very funny one. He _has_ got a temper, but we all of
us have in this family. He is the loveliest man I ever saw or ever
hope to see--and oh, so absent-minded. He does tell perfectly
delightful stories. Clara and I used to sit on each arm of his
chair and listen while he told us stories about the pictures on the
wall.