rse of a day's smoking.

At last it occurred to me that something was lacking in the
Havana cigar. It did not quite fulfil my youthful anticipations.
I experimented. I bought what was called a seed-leaf cigar with a
Connecticut wrapper. After a while I became satiated of these, and I
searched for something else, The Pittsburg stogy was recommended to me.
It certainly had the merit of cheapness, if that be a merit in tobacco,
and I experimented with the stogy.

Then, once more, I changed off, so that I might acquire the subtler
flavor of the Wheeling toby. Now that palled, and I looked around New
York in the hope of finding cigars which would seem to most people vile,
but which, I am sure, would be ambrosial to me. I couldn't find any.
They put into my hands some of those little things that cost ten cents a
box, but they are a delusion.

I said to a friend, "I want to know if you can direct me to an honest
tobacco merchant who will tell me what is the worst cigar in the New
York market, excepting those made for Chinese consumption--I want real
tobacco. If you will do this and I find the man is as good as his word,
I will guarantee him a regular market for a fair amount of his cigars."

We found a tobacco dealer who would tell the truth--who, if a cigar
was bad, would boldly say so. He produced what he called the very worst
cigars he had ever had in his shop. He let me experiment with one then
and there. The test was satisfactory.

This was, after all, the real thing. I negotiated for a box of them and
took them away with me, so that I might be sure of having them handy
when I want them.

I discovered that the "worst cigars," so called, are the best for me,
after all.

BILLIARDS

Mr. Clemens attended a billiard tourney on the evening of April
24, 1906, and was called on to tell a story.

The game of billiards has destroyed my naturally sweet disposition.
Once, when I was an underpaid reporter in Virginia City, whenever I
wished to play billiards I went out to look for an easy mark. One day
a stranger came to town and opened a billiard parlor. I looked him over
casually. When he proposed a game, I answered, "All right."

"Just knock the balls around a little so that I can get your gait," he
said; and when I had done so, he remarked: "I will be perfectly
fair with you. I'll play you left-handed." I felt hurt, for he was
cross-eyed, freckled, and had red hair, and I determined to tea