with apologetic
explanation. A playful exchange of personal letters followed, and the
beginning of a lifelong friendship.

One of the letters has a special interest here. Clemens had followed his
protest with an apology for it, asking that no further notice be taken of
the matter. Aldrich replied that it was too late to prevent "doing him
justice," as his explanation was already on the press, but that if
Clemens insisted he would withdraw it in the next issue. Clemens then
wrote that he did not want it withdrawn, and explained that he hated to
be accused of plagiarizing Bret Harte, to whom he was deeply indebted for
literary schooling in the California days. Continuing he said:

Do you know the prettiest fancy and the neatest that ever shot
through Harte's brain? It was this. When they were trying to
decide upon a vignette cover for the Overland a grizzly bear (of the
arms of the State of California) was chosen. Nahl Bros. carved him
and the page was printed with him in it.

As a bear he was a success. He was a good bear, but then, it was
objected, he was an objectless bear--a bear that meant nothing,
signified nothing, simply stood there, snarling over his shoulder at
nothing, and was painfully and manifestly a boorish and ill-natured
intruder upon the fair page. All hands said that none were
satisfied; they hated badly to give him up, and yet they hated as
much to have him there when there was no point to him. But
presently Harte took a pencil and drew two simple lines under his
feet, and behold he was a magnificent success!--the ancient symbol
of California savagery, snarling at the approaching type of high and
progressive civilization, the first Overland locomotive! I just
think that was nothing less than an inspiration.--[The "bear" was
that which has always appeared on the Overland cover; the "two
lines" formed a railway track under his feet. Clemens's original
letter contained crude sketches illustrating these things.]

Among the Boston group was another Californian, Ralph Keeler, an
eccentric, gifted, and altogether charming fellow, whom Clemens had known
on the Pacific slope. Keeler had been adopted by the Boston writers, and
was grateful and happy accordingly. He was poor of purse, but
inexhaustibly rich in the happier gifts of fortune. He was unfailingly
buoyant, light-hearted, and hopeful. On an infinitesimal capital he had