Samuel Langhorne Clemens, she said (he had never heard it all strungtogether in that ominous way), I am ashamed of you! Jimmy Dunlap, goand bring a switch for Sammy. The little girl was strong and did not readily give way to affliction. No, Emerson, we cannot, his wife said sharply. I'll just bet he does, Cyrus said.
All that we require of a voter is that he shall be forked, wear pantaloons instead of petticoats, and bear a more or less humorous resemblance to the reported image of God. Howells bother and bother about her coffee, when it was a good deal better than we get at home. But any literary ambition he may have had in those dayswas a fleeting thing. It is so like Mark Twain that we are inclined to accept it, though itseems of doubtful circumstance.
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