ad become literally universal.
The consul at Hongkong, discussing English literature with a Chinese
acquaintance, a mandarin, mentioned The Pilgrim's Progress.

"Yes, indeed, I have read it!" the mandarin said, eagerly. "We are
enjoying it in China, and shall have it soon in our own language. It is
by Mark Twain."

In England the book had an amazing vogue from the beginning, and English
readers were endeavoring to outdo the Americans in appreciation. Indeed,
as a rule, English readers of culture, critical readers, rose to an
understanding of Mark Twain's literary value with greater promptness
than did the same class of readers at home. There were exceptions,
of course. There were English critics who did not take Mark Twain
seriously, there were American critics who did. Among the latter was a
certain William Ward, an editor of a paper down in Macon, Georgia--The
Beacon. Ward did not hold a place with the great magazine arbiters of
literary rank. He was only an obscure country editor, but he wrote like
a prophet. His article--too long to quote in full--concerned American
humorists in general, from Washington Irving, through John Phoenix,
Philander Doesticks, Sut Lovingwood, Artemus Ward, Josh Billings and
Petroleum V. Nasby, down to Mark Twain. With the exception of the first
and last named he says of them:

They have all had, or will have, their day. Some of them are
resting beneath the sod, and others still live whose work will
scarcely survive them. Since Irving no humorist in prose has held
the foundation of a permanent fame except it be Mark Twain, and
this, as in the case of Irving, is because he is a pure writer.
Aside from any subtle mirth that lurks through his composition, the
grace and finish of his more didactic and descriptive sentences
indicate more than mediocrity.

The writer then refers to Mark Twain's description of the Sphinx,
comparing it with Bulwer's, which he thinks may have influenced it. He
was mistaken in this, for Clemens had not read Bulwer--never could read
him at any length.

Of the English opinions, that of The Saturday Review was perhaps
most doubtful. It came along late in 1870, and would hardly be worth
recalling if it were not for a resulting, or collateral, interest.
Clemens saw notice of this review before he saw the review itself.
A paragraph in the Boston Advertiser spoke of The Saturday Review as
treating the absurdities of the Innocents from a