One reporter offered him five hundred dollars for a two-hourtalk. Suppose a community of people to be living on the slope of a volcano, directly under the crater and in th d a party ofIndia princes in their gorgeous court costumes, which Clemens admiredopenly and said he would like to wear himself. They all do it.
The direction of his literary affairs was left to hisdaughter Clara and the writer of this history. The rehearsals were going on, and the Clemenschildren were naturally a good deal excited over the outcome. The news had already come to the house, and I had lost no time inpreparations to follow by the next train. Through that peaceful spring afternoon the life-wave ebbed lower andlower.
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