XII.

Whether I will or no I must let things come into my story thoughtwise, as
he would have let them, for I cannot remember them in their order. One
night, while we were giving a party, he suddenly stormed in with a friend
of his and mine, Mr. Twichell, and immediately began to eat and drink of
our supper, for they had come straight to our house from walking to
Boston, or so great a part of the way as to be a-hungered and a-thirst. I
can see him now as he stood up in the midst of our friends, with his head
thrown back, and in his hand a dish of those escalloped oysters without
which no party in Cambridge was really a party, exulting in the tale of
his adventure, which had abounded in the most original characters and
amusing incidents at every mile of their progress. They had broken their
journey with a night's rest, and they had helped themselves lavishly out
by rail in the last half; but still it had been a mighty walk to do in
two days. Clemens was a great walker, in those years, and was always
telling of his tramps with Mr. Twichell to Talcott's Tower, ten miles out
of Hartford. As he walked of course he talked, and of course he smoked.
Whenever he had been a few days with us, the whole house had to be aired,
for he smoked all over it from breakfast to bedtime. He always went to
bed with a cigar in his mouth, and sometimes, mindful of my fire
insurance, I went up and took it away, still burning, after he had fallen
asleep. I do not know how much a man may smoke and live, but apparently
he smoked as much as a man could, for he smoked incessantly.

He did not care much to meet people, as I fancied, and we were greedy of
him for ourselves; he was precious to us; and I would not have exposed