MARK TWAIN'S HOME.

Otago Witness, Issue 1777, 12 December 1885, Page 26

MARK TWAIN'S HOME.

A few steps only from Mrs Stowe's brings you to Mr Clemens' house, and still fewer, if you take the short cut through the lawns and shrubbery, by which transit you pass from old New England to modern America—from the plain quarters of ethical fiction to the luxurious abode of the most Western of humourists. It is not difficult to trace, however, the essential kinship between Sam Lawson of Oldtown Folks and the equally quaint and shrewd but more expansive drollery of Mark Twain; and, on the other hand, those who see much of this author in private discover in him a fund of serious reflection and of keen observation upon many subjects that gives him another element in common with his neighbour. The literary group in this neighbourhood do not seem to fancy giving names to their houses ; they are content with the arithmetical designation. "No, my house has not got any name," said Mr Clemens, in answer to a question. '• It has a number, but I have never been able to remember what it is." No number in fact, appears on gate or door ; but the chances are that if a stranger were to step into'any shop on the business streets he could at once obtain in accurate direction to the spot. 'And a charming haunt it is, with its wide hall, finished in dark wood under a panelled ceiling, and full of easy-chairs, rugs, cushions, and carved furniture that instantly invite the guest to lounge in front of the big fire-place. But it is a house made for hospitality, and one cannot stop at that point. Over the.fire-place, through a large j plate-glass suggesting Alice's Adventures, a glimpse is had of the drawing-room, luminous with white and silver and pale blue; and on another side, between a broad flight of stairs! and a chiselled Ginevra chest drawn against the! wall, the always-open library door attracts one's! steps. There is more dnrk wood work in thql library, including a very elaborate panel rising!] above the mantel to the ceiling. This was] brought from abroad, and in other portions ofl the house are other pieces representing the! spoils of European tours ; one in particular 9 recall, covered with garlands and with plumil cherubs that spring forth in plastic rotundity! and clamber along the edges. But it adds t< the pleasurableness of the home that all th< cherubs in it are not carved. A genial atmo sphere, too, pervades the house, which is warmec b) wood fires, a furnace, and the author'; immense circulation. One would naturally, ii such a place expect to find sonre perfection of j study, a literary work-room, and that has indee< been provided, but the unconventional genius ofl the author could not reconcile itself to'a surfl rounding, the charms of which distracted hlfl attention. The study remains, its deep windo\fl giving a seductive outlook above the librarvfl but Mr Clemens goes elsewhere. Pointing to J large divan extending along the two sides of 1 right-angled corner, " That was a good idea," hi said, " which I got from something I saw in I Syrian monastery ; but If ound it was much morß comfortable to lie there and smoke than to stal at my desk; and then these windows— -I wafl constantly getting up to look at the view ; anfl when one of our beautiful heavy snowfalls. caml in winter, I couldn't do anything at all but gas at it." So he has moved still higher uppfcytß into the billiard-room, and there writes at a tnbfl ■placed in suchwise that he can see nothing btH the wall in front of him and a couple of shelvfl of books. Before adopting this expedient he hafl tried a room which he caused to be fitted ifl with plain pine sheathing on the upper floor fl his stable ; but that had serious disadvantageH and even the billiard-room failing to meet til requirements in some emergencies, he hiH latterly resorted to hiring an office in a corH mercial building in the heart of. the city. " About four months in the year," said he, "H the time when I expect to do my wort, duriiH the summer vacation, when I am off on a farH at Elmira. Yes," he continued, when I eH pressed surprise, " I can write better in bfll weather. And besides, I must be free from other interests and occupations. I find Hj necessary, when I have begun anything, to ke^H steadily at it without changing my surrounclin^H To take up the train of ideas after each da^| writing I must be in the same place that he^H it in, or else it becomes very difficult. JH But nothing, apparently, interrupts the, S P^H taneous flow of his humour in daily Ijifel I^H the same in kind with th,at of his'books, ( thoi^B incidental and less elaborate. Jt is unpreme^B tated, and always unexpected. Be never ta^H what may be termed the obvipus. and conv^B tional witty view, yet neither, is there s^H straining for a new form of jest; the'nov^H comes of itself. Moreover, unlike 1 certain whose quality is genuine, but' whose' reputatjg becomes a burden to them, he appears tqHI indifferent whether he ever cracks another ]^H and thus lulls his companipns in.to a, deh«H

security, only to take them unawares with some 'new and telling shot. There is less exaggeration in what he says than in what he writes ; but the essence of his fun lies in the same grave assumption of absurdites as solid and reasonable facts with which we are familiar in his works. By a reverse process, when talking to a serious point, or narr°.tingsome experience not espicially ludicrous in itself, there is a lingering suspicion of houmorous possibilities in his manner, which assisted by the slow, emphatic, natural drawl of of his speech, leads one to accept actual facts of a prosaic kind as delicious absurdities. In fine, it is a sort of wizardry that he exercises in conversation, stimulating the hearers by its quick mutations of drolling and earnest. — Harper's Magazine for October.