him for having no more sense than to sit down on a note-book. The
patience of Clemens in bearing it was so angelic that I saw fit to
comment, "I suppose you will report this fellow." "Yes," he answered,
slowly and sadly. "That's what I should have done once. But now I
remember that he gets twenty dollars a month."

Nothing could have been wiser, nothing tenderer, and his humanity was not
for humanity alone. He abhorred the dull and savage joy of the sportsman
in a lucky shot, an unerring aim, and once when I met him in the country
he had just been sickened by the success of a gunner in bringing down a
blackbird, and he described the poor, stricken, glossy thing, how it lay
throbbing its life out on the grass, with such pity as he might have
given a wounded child. I find this a fit place to say that his mind and
soul were with those who do the hard work of the world, in fear of those
who give them a chance for their livelihoods and underpay them all they
can. He never went so far in socialism as I have gone, if he went that
way at all, but he was fascinated with Looking Backward and had Bellamy
to visit him; and from the first he had a luminous vision of organized
labor as the only present help for working-men. He would show that side
with such clearness and such force that you could not say anything in
hopeful contradiction; he saw with that relentless insight of his that
with Unions was the working-man's only present hope of standing up like a
man against money and the power of it. There was a time when I was
afraid that his eyes were a little holden from the truth; but in the very
last talk I heard from him I found that I was wrong, and that this great
humorist was as great a humanist as ever. I wish that all the work-folk
could know this, and could know him their friend in life as he was in
literature; as he was in such a glorious gospel of equality as the
'Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court.'