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turned out more or less well in about equal proportions。 He did not
dwell on the failures； but he told how he had been the first to use a
typewriter for manuscript work； how he had been one of the earliest users
of the fountain…pen； how he had installed the first telephone ever used
in a private house； and how the audience now would have a demonstration
of the first telharmonium music so employed。 It was just about the
stroke of midnight when he finished； and a moment later the horns began
to play chimes and 〃Auld Lang Syne〃 and 〃America。〃
The other pleasant evening referred to was a little company given in
honor of Helen Keller。 It was fascinating to watch her； and to realize
with what a store of knowledge she had lighted the black silence of her
physical life。 To see Mark Twain and Helen Keller together was something
not easily to be forgotten。 When Mrs。 Macy （who； as Miss Sullivan； had
led her so marvelously out of the shadows） communicated his words to her
with what seemed a lightning touch of the fingers her face radiated every
shade of his meaning…humorous； serious； pathetic。 Helen visited the
various objects in the room； and seemed to enjoy them more than the usual
observer of these things； and certainly in greater detail。 Her sensitive
fingers spread over articles of bric…a…brac； and the exclamations she
uttered were always fitting； showing that she somehow visualized each
thing in all its particulars。 There was a bronze cat of handsome
workmanship and happy expression； and when she had run those allseeing
fingers of hers over it she said： 〃It is smiling。〃
CCLIV
BILLIARD…ROOM NOTES
The billiard games went along pretty steadily that winter。 My play
improved； and Clemens found it necessary to eliminate my odds altogether；
and to change the game frequently in order to keep me in subjection。
Frequently there were long and apparently violent arguments over the
legitimacy of some particular shot or playarguments to us quite as
enjoyable as the rest of the game。 Sometimes he would count a shot which
was clearly out of the legal limits； and then it was always a delight to
him to have a mock…serious discussion over the matter of conscience； and
whether or not his conscience was in its usual state of repair。 It would
always end by him saying： 〃I don't wish even to seem to do anything which
can invite suspicion。 I refuse to count that shot；〃 or something of like
nature。 Sometimes when I had let a questionable play pass without
comment； he would watch anxiously until I had made a similar one and then
insist on my scoring it to square accounts。 His conscience was always
repairing itself。
He had experimented； a great many years before； with what was in the
nature of a trick on some unsuspecting player。 It consisted in turning
out twelve pool…balls on the table with one cue ball； and asking his
guest how many caroms he thought he could make with all those twelve
balls to play on。 He had learned that the average player would seldom
make more than thirty…one counts； and usually； before this number was
reached； he would miss through some careless play or get himself into a
position where he couldn't play at all。 The thing looked absurdly easy。
It looked as if one could go on playing all day long； and the victim was
usually eager to bet that he could make fifty or perhaps a hundred； but
for more than an hour I tried it patiently； and seldom succeeded in
scoring more than fifteen or twenty without missing。 Long after the play
itself ceased to be amusing to me； he insisted on my going on and trying
it some more； and he would throw himself back and roar with laughter； the
tears streaming down his cheeks； to see me work and fume and fail。
It was very soon after that that Peter Dunne （〃Mr。 Dooley〃） came down for
luncheon； and after several games of the usual sort； Clemens quietlyas
if the idea had just occurred to himrolled out the twelve balls and
asked Dunne how； many caroms he thought he could make without a miss。
Dunne said he thought he could make a thousand。 Clemens quite
indifferently said that he didn't believe he could make fifty。 Dunne
offered to bet five dollars that he could； and the wager was made。 Dunne
scored about twenty…five the first time and missed； then he insisted on
betting five dollars again； and his defeats continued until Clemens had
twenty…five dollars of Dunne's money； and Dunne was sweating and
swearing； and Mark Twain rocking with delight。 Dunne went away still
unsatisfied； promising that he would come back and try it again。 Perhaps
he practised in his absence； for when he returned he had learned
something。 He won his twenty…five dollars back； and I think something
more added。 Mark Twain was still ahead； for Dunne furnished him with a
good five hundred dollars' worth of amusement。
Clemens never cared to talk and never wished to be talked to when the
game was actually in progress。 If there was anything to be said on
either side； he would stop and rest his cue on the floor； or sit down on
the couch； until the matter was concluded。 Such interruptions happened
pretty frequently； and many of the bits of personal comment and incident
scattered along through this work are the result of those brief rests。
Some shot； or situation； or word would strike back through the past and
awaken a note long silent； and I generally kept a pad and pencil on the
window…sill with the score…sheet； and later； during his play； I would
scrawl some reminder that would be precious by and by。
On one of these I find a memorandum of what he called his three recurrent
dreams。 All of us have such things； but his seem worth remembering。
〃There is never a month passes；〃 he said； 〃that I do not dream of being
in reduced circumstances； and obliged to go back to the river to earn a
living。 It is never a pleasant dream； either。 I love to think about
those days； but there's always something sickening about the thought that
I have been obliged to go back to them； and usually in my dream I am just
about to start into a black shadow without being able to tell whether it
is Selma bluff； or Hat Island； or only a black wall of night。
〃Another dream that I have of that kind is being compelled to go back to
the lecture platform。 I hate that dream worse than the other。 In it I
am always getting up before an audience with nothing to say； trying to be
funny； trying to make the audience laugh； realizing that I am only making
silly jokes。 Then the audience realizes it； and pretty soon they
commence to get up and leave。 That dream always ends by my standing
there in the semidarkness talking to an empty house。
〃My other dream is of being at a brilliant gathering in my night…
garments。 People don't seem to notice me there at first； and then pretty
soon somebody points me out； and they all begin to look at me
suspiciously； and I can see that they are wondering who I am and why I am
there in that costume。 Then it occurs to me that I can fix it by making
myself known。 I take hold of some man and whisper to him； 'I am Mark
Twain'； but that does not improve it； for immediately I can hear him
whispering to the ot