nd from week to week, because it was a quiet and peaceful place
with affectionate attention and limitless welcome. Clifford Trott had
orders to come with the carriage each afternoon, and we drove down to
Bay House for Mark Twain and his playmate, and then went wandering at
will among the labyrinth of blossom-bordered, perfectly kept roadways of
a dainty paradise, that never, I believe, becomes quite a reality even
to those who know it best.

Clemens had an occasional paroxysm during these weeks, but they were not
likely to be severe or protracted; and I have no doubt the peace of
his surroundings, the remoteness from disturbing events, as well as the
balmy temperature, all contributed to his improved condition.

He talked pretty continuously during these drives, and he by no means
restricted his subjects to juvenile matters. He discussed history and
his favorite sciences and philosophies, and I am sure that his drift was
rarely beyond the understanding of his young companion, for it was Mark
Twain's gift to phrase his thought so that it commanded not only the
respect of age, but the comprehension and the interest of youth. I
remember that once he talked, during an afternoon's drive, on the French
Revolution and the ridiculous episode of Anacharsis Cloots, "orator and
advocate of the human race," collecting the vast populace of France to
swear allegiance to a king even then doomed to the block. The very name
of Cloots suggested humor, and nothing could have been more delightful
and graphic than the whole episode as he related it. Helen asked if he
thought such a thing as that could ever happen in America.

"No," he said, "the American sense of humor would have laughed it out of
court in a week; and the Frenchman dreads ridicule, too, though he never
seems to realize how ridiculous he is--the most ridiculous creature in
the world."

On the morning of his seventy-fourth birthday he was looking wonderfully
well after a night of sound sleep, his face full of color and freshness,
his eyes bright and keen and full of good-humor. I presented him with
a pair of cuff-buttons silver-enameled with the Bermuda lily, and I
thought he seemed pleased with them.

It was rather gloomy outside, so we remained indoors by the fire and
played cards, game after game of hearts, at which he excelled, and he
was usually kept happy by winning. There were no visitors, and after
dinner Helen asked him to read some of her favorite episodes from