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the usual； though it became that unique white figure and his occupation。
In my notes； made from day to day； I find that I have set down more than
once an impression of the curious unreality of the place and its
surroundings； which would show that it was not a mere passing fancy。
I had lodgings in the village； and drove out mornings for the dictations；
but often came out again afoot on pleasant afternoons； for he was not
much occupied with social matters； and there was opportunity for quiet；
informing interviews。 There was a woods path to the Upton place； and it
was a walk through a fairyland。 A part of the way was through such a
growth of beech timber as I have never seen elsewhere： tall； straight；
mottled trees with an undergrowth of laurel； the sunlight sifting
through； one found it easy to expect there storybook ladies； wearing
crowns and green mantles； riding on white palfreys。 Then came a more
open way； an abandoned grass…grown road full of sunlight and perfume； and
this led to a dim； religious place； a natural cathedral； where the
columns were stately pine…trees branching and meeting at the top： a
veritable temple in which it always seemed that music was about to play。
You crossed a brook and climbed a little hill； and pushed through a hedge
into a place more open； and the house stood there among the trees。
The days drifted along； one a good deal like another； except； as the
summer deepened； the weather became warmer； the foliage changed； a drowsy
haze gathered along the valleys and on the mountain…side。 He sat more
often now in a large rocking…chair； and generally seemed to be looking
through half…dosed lids toward the Monadnock heights； that were always
changing in aspect…in color and in formas cloud shapes drifted by or
gathered in those lofty hollows。 White and yellow butterflies hovered
over the grass； and there were some curious； large black antsthe
largest I have ever seen and quite harmlessthat would slip in and out
of the cracks on the veranda floor； wholly undisturbed by us。 Now and
then a light flutter of wind would come murmuring up from the trees
below； and when the apple…bloom was falling there would be a whirl of
white and pink petals that seemed a cloud of smaller butterflies。
On June 1st I find in my note…book this entry：
Warm and pleasant。 The dictation about Grant continues； a great
privilege to hear this foremost man； of letters review his
associations with that foremost man of arms。 He remained seated
today； dressed in white as usual； a large yellow pansy in his
buttonhole； his white hair ruffled by the breeze。 He wears his worn
morocco slippers with black hose； sits in the rocker； smoking and
looking out over the hazy hills； delivering his sentences with a
measured accuracy that seldom calls for change。 He is speaking just
now of a Grant dinner which he attended where Depew spoke。 One is
impressed with the thought that we are looking at and listening to
the war…worn veteran of a thousand dinnersthe honored guest of
many； an honored figure of all。 Earlier； when he had been
chastising some old offender； he added； 〃However； he's dead； and I
forgive him。〃 Then； after a moment's reflection； 〃No； strike that
last sentence out。〃 When we laughed； he added； 〃We can't forgive
him yet。〃
A few days laterit was June 4th； the day before the second anniversary
of the death of Mrs。 Clemenswe found him at first in excellent humor
from the long dictation of the day before。 Then his mind reverted to the
tragedy of the season； and he began trying to tell of it。 It was hard
work。 He walked back and forth in the soft sunlight； saying almost
nothing。 He gave it up at last； remarking； 〃We will not work to…morrow。〃
So we went away。
He did not dictate on the 5th or the 6th； but on the 7th he resumed the
story of Mrs。 Clemens's last days at Florence。 The weather had changed：
the sunlight and warmth had all gone； a chill； penetrating mist was on
the mountains； Monadnock was blotted out。 We expected him to go to the
fire； but evidently he could not bear being shut in with that subject in
his mind。 A black cape was brought out and thrown about his shoulders；
which seemed to fit exactly into the somberness of the picture。 For two
hours or more we sat there in the gloom and chill； while he paced up and
down； detailing as graphically as might be that final chapter in the life
of the woman he had loved。
It is hardly necessary to say that beyond the dictation Clemens did very
little literary work during these months。 He had brought his 〃manuscript
trunk〃 as usual； thinking； perhaps； to finish the 〃microbe〃 story and
other of the uncompleted things； but the dictation gave him sufficient
mental exercise； and he did no more than look over his 〃stock in trade；〃
as he called it； and incorporate a few of the finished manuscripts into
〃autobiography。〃 Among these were the notes of his trip down the Rhone；
made in 1891； and the old Stormfield story； which he had been treasuring
and suppressing so long。 He wrote Howells in June：
The dictating goes lazily and pleasantly on。 With intervals。 I
find that I've been at it； off & on； nearly two hours for 155 days
since January 9。 To be exact； I've dictated 75 hours in 8o days &
loafed 75 days。 I've added 60；000 words in the month that I've been
here； which indicates that I've dictated during 20 days of that
time40 hours； at an average of 1；500 words an hour。 It's a
plenty； & I'm satisfied。
There's a good deal of 〃fat。〃 I've dictated （from January 9）
210；000 words； & the 〃fat〃 adds about 50；000 more。
The 〃fat〃 is old pigeonholed things of the years gone by which I or
editors didn't das't to print。 For instance； I am dumping in the
little old book which I read to you in Hartford about 30 years ago &
which you said 〃publish & ask Dean Stanley to furnish an
introduction； he'll do it〃 （Captain Stormfield's Visit to Heaven）。
It reads quite to suit me without altering a word now that it isn't
to see print until I am dead。
To…morrow I mean to dictate a chapter which will get my heirs &
assigns burned alive if they venture to print it this side of A。D。
2006which I judge they won't。 There'll be lots of such chapters
if I live 3 or 4 years longer。 The edition of A。D。 2006 will make a
stir when it comes out。 I shall be hovering around taking notice；
along with other dead pals。 You are invited。
The chapter which was to invite death at the stake for his successors was
naturally one of religious heresies a violent attack on the orthodox；
scriptural God； but really an expression of the highest reverence for the
God which； as he said； had created the earth and sky and the music of the
constellations。 Mark Twain once expressed himself concerning reverence
and the lack of it：
〃I was never consciously and purposely irreverent in my life； yet one
person or another is always charging me with a lack of reverence。
Reverence for whatfor whom？ Who is to decide what ough