te-books busy. He made a great
figure, all in white there among them, and they didn't fail to realize
the value of it as "copy." He talked about copyright, and about his
white clothes, and about a silk hat which Howells wore.

Back in the Speaker's room, at last, he began laying out the campaign,
which would begin next day. By and by he said:

"Look here! I believe I've got to speak over there in that
committee-room to-day or to-morrow. I ought to know just when it is."

I had not heard of this before, and offered to go over and see about it,
which I did at once. I hurried back faster than I had gone.

"Mr. Clemens, you are to speak in half an hour, and the room is crowded
full; people waiting to hear you."

"The devil!" he said. "Well, all right; I'll just lie down here a few
minutes and then we'll go over. Take paper and pencil and make a few
headings."

There was a couch in the room. He lay down while I sat at the table with
a pencil, making headings now and then, as he suggested, and presently
he rose and, shoving the notes into his pocket, was ready. It was half
past three when we entered the committee-room, which was packed with
people and rather dimly lighted, for it was gloomy outside. Herbert
Putnam, the librarian, led us to seats among the literary group, and
Clemens, removing his overcoat, stood in that dim room clad as in white
armor. There was a perceptible stir. Howells, startled for a moment,
whispered:

"What in the world did he wear that white suit for?" though in his heart
he admired it as much as the others.

I don't remember who was speaking when we came in, but he was saying
nothing important. Whoever it was, he was followed by Dr. Edward Everett
Hale, whose age always commanded respect, and whose words always invited
interest. Then it was Mark Twain's turn. He did not stand by his chair,
as the others had done, but walked over to the Speaker's table, and,
turning, faced his audience. I have never seen a more impressive sight
than that snow-white figure in that dim-lit, crowded room. He never
touched his notes; he didn't even remember them. He began in that even,
quiet, deliberate voice of his the most even, the most quiet, the most
deliberate voice in the world--and, without a break or a hesitation for
a word, he delivered a copyright argument, full of humor and serious
reasoning, such a speech as no one in that room, I suppose, had ever
heard. Certainly it was a fine and dramatic bit of i