a young member of that army whose mission is to comfort
and uplift mankind. But it was only a little time till the impulse had
grown into a friendship that went beyond any profession or doctrine, a
friendship that ripened into a permanent admiration and love for "Joe"
Twichell himself, as one of the noblest specimens of his race.

He was invited to the Twichell home, where he met the young wife and got
a glimpse of the happiness of that sweet and peaceful household. He had
a neglected, lonely look, and he loved to gather with them at their
fireside. He expressed his envy of their happiness, and Mrs. Twichell
asked him why, since his affairs were growing prosperous, he did not
establish a household of his own. Long afterward Mr. Twichell wrote:

Mark made no answer for a little, but, with his eyes bent on the
floor, appeared to be deeply pondering. Then he looked up, and said
slowly, in a voice tremulous with earnestness (with what sympathy he
was heard may be imagined): "I am taking thought of it. I am in
love beyond all telling with the dearest and best girl in the whole
world. I don't suppose she will marry me. I can't think it
possible. She ought not to. But if she doesn't I shall be sure
that the best thing I ever did was to fall in love with her, and
proud to have it known that I tried to win her!"

It was only a brief time until the Twichell fireside was home to him. He
came and went, and presently it was "Mark" and "Joe," as by and by it
would be "Livy" and "Harmony," and in a few years "Uncle Joe" and "Uncle
Mark," "Aunt Livy" and "Aunt Harmony," and so would remain until the
end.

LXIX

A LECTURE TOUR

James Redpath, proprietor of the Boston Lyceum Bureau, was the leading
lecture agent of those days, and controlled all, or nearly all, of the
platform celebrities. Mark Twain's success at the Cooper Union the year
before had interested Redpath. He had offered engagements then and
later, but Clemens had not been free for the regular circuit. Now there
was no longer a reason for postponement of a contract. Redpath was eager
for the new celebrity, and Clemens closed with him for the season of
1868-9. With his new lecture, "The Vandal Abroad," he was presently
earning a hundred dollars and more a night, and making most of the nights
count.

This was affluence indeed. He had become suddenly a person of
substance-an associate of men of consequence, with a commensurate