k as he went along
--the humor of it--frequently laughing as some new absurdity came into his
mind. He was not very regular in his arrivals, but he worked long hours
and turned in a vast amount of "copy"--skits, sketches, editorials, and
comments of a varied sort. Not all of it was humorous; he would stop
work any time on an amusing sketch to attack some abuse or denounce an
injustice, and he did it in scorching words that made offenders pause.
Once, when two practical jokers had sent in a marriage notice of persons
not even contemplating matrimony, he wrote:

"This deceit has been practised maliciously by a couple of men whose
small souls will escape through their pores some day if they do not
varnish their hides."

In May he considerably increased his income by undertaking a department
called "Memoranda" for the new "Galaxy" magazine. The outlook was now so
promising that to his lecture agent, James Redpath, he wrote:

"DEAR RED: I'm not going to lecture any more forever. I've got
things ciphered down to a fraction now. I know just about what it
will cost to live, and I can make the money without lecturing.
Therefore, old man, count me out."

And in a second letter:

"I guess I'm out of the field permanently. Have got a lovely wife, a
lovely house bewitchingly furnished, a lovely carriage, and a
coachman whose style and dignity are simply awe-inspiring, nothing
less; and I'm making more money than necessary, by considerable, and
therefore why crucify myself nightly on the platform! The
subscriber will have to be excused, for the present season, at
least."

The little household on Delaware Avenue was indeed a happy place during
those early months. Neither Clemens nor his wife in those days cared
much for society, preferring the comfort of their own home. Once when a
new family moved into a house across the way they postponed calling until
they felt ashamed. Clemens himself called first. One Sunday morning he
noticed smoke pouring from an upper window of their neighbor's house.
The occupants, seated on the veranda, evidently did not suspect their
danger. Clemens stepped across to the gate and, bowing politely, said:

"My name is Clemens; we ought to have called on you before, and I
beg your pardon for intruding now in this informal way, but your
house is on fire."

It was at the moment when life seemed at its best that shadows gathered.
Jervis Langdon had neve