A book for an hour containing choice reading and character sketches : A curious dream, and other sketches |
MY LATE SENATORIAL SECRETARYSHIP. |
 | A book for an hour |  |
MY LATE SENATORIAL SECRETARYSHIP.
MARK TWAIN.
I am not a private secretary to a senator any more, now. I held the
berth two months in security and in great cheerfulness of spirit, but my
bread began to return from over the waters, then—that is to say, my
works
came back and revealed themselves. I judged it best to resign. The way
of it was this. My employer sent for me one morning tolerable early, and,
as soon as I had finished inserting some conundrums clandestinely into his
last great speech upon finance, I entered the presence. There was something
portentous in his appearance. His cravat was untied, his hair was
in
a state of disorder, and his countenance bore about it the signs of a suppressed
storm. He held a package of letters in his tense grasp, and I
knew
that the dreaded Pacific mail was in. He said:
MARVIN'S SPHERICAL SAFE.—THE ESSEX COUNTY REPUBLICAN gives an account of an attempt to
break open one of Marvin's Spherical Burglar-Proof Safes, belonging to the Keeseville National Bank, the
lock of which had been injured by the futile efforts of burglars to get at the contents. After a whole day
devoted to experiments with cold chisels and powder, the safe was filled with sand and a two pound
charge of powder introduced, which was exploded with the noise of one of McClellan's big guns, sending
the door some 500 feet into the air. The REPUBLICAN'S account of the affair concludes as follows:
“Our story is done. Our conclusion is, that the Marvin's Spherical Burglar-Proof Safe is the champion
article of the world. It had been put to the severest test, no one knows how many hours, by experienced
burglars, with no apparent impression upon it except a trifling injury to the lock, and that did
nothing towards helping them into it. And then, on Friday, the whole day was spent by an expert, a
dozen smiths—more or less—with the entire stockholdership of the bank, and certainly not less than one
hundred men and boys, and finally by resorting to the “villainy” of powder the door was blown out and
entrance was obtained. When we have money enough to want a safe, which can't be a great while, according
to “malicious” rumors in circulation, we shall know where to apply.”
“I thought you were worthy of confidence?”
I said: “Yes, sir.”
He said: “I gave you a letter from certain of my constituents in
the
State of Nevada, asking the establishment of a post-office at Baldwin's
Ranch, and told you to answer it, as ingeniously as you could, with arguments
which should persuade them that there was no real necessity for
an
office at that place.”
I felt easier. “Oh, if that is all, sir, I did do that.”
“Yes, you did. I will read your answer, for your own humiliation:
“ `Gentlemen,—What the mischief do you
suppose you want with a post-office
at Baldwin's Ranch? It would not do you any good. If any letters came there,
you
could'nt read them, you know; and, besides, such letters as ought to pass
through
with money in them, for other localities, would not be likely to get through, you must
perceive at once; and that would make trouble for us all. No, don't bother about
a
post-office in your camp. I have your best interests at heart, and feel that it
would
only be an ornamental folly. What you want is a nice jail, you know—a nice
substantial
jail and a free school. These will be a lasting benefit to you.
These will make
you really contented and happy. I will move in the matter at once.
“ `For James W.N—, U.S, Senator.'
“That is the way you answered that letter. Those people say they
will
hang me, if I ever enter that district again; and I am perfectly satisfied
they will, too.”
“Well, Sir, I did not know I was doing any harm. I only wanted to
convince them.”
“Ah, Well, you did convince them, I make no
manner of doubt. Now,
here is another specimen. I gave you a petition from certain gentlemen of
Nevada, praying that I would get a bill through Congress incorporating
the Methodist Episcopal Church of the State of Nevada. I told you to
say, in reply, that the creation of such a law came more properly within
the province of the State Legislature; and to endeavour to show them, that,
in the present feebleness of the religious element in that new
commonwealth,
the expediency of incorporating the church was questionable. What did
you write?
Gentlemen,—You will have to go to the State
Legislature about that speculation of
yours—Congress don't know anything about religion. But don't you hurry to
go there,
either; because this thing you propose to do out in that new country isn't
expedient—in
fact, it is ridiculous. Your religious people there are too feeble, in
intellect, in morality,
in piety—in everything, pretty much. You had better drop this—you
can't make it work.
You can't issue stock on an incorporation like that—or if you could, it
would only keep
you in trouble all the time. The other denominations would abuse it, and
“bear” it,
and “sell it short,” and break it down. They would do with it just
as they would with
one of your silvermines out there—they would try to make all the world
believe it was
“wildcat.” You ought not to do anything that is calculated to bring
a sacred thing into
disrepute. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves—that is what
I think about it.
You close your petition with the words: `And we will ever pray.' I think you
had
better—you need to do it.
“ `For James W.N—, U.S. Senator.'
The first number of a new Illustrated Weekly entitled THE NEW YORK READER will be
issued June 1st, 1873.
THE NEW YORK READER will contain 24 pages of entertaining and instructive reading
matter, consisting of Stories and Sketches by the best Literary Talent of the day; selections of
Editorials from the Leading Republican and Democratic Dailies on the current topics of the
week, political or otherwise; Agricultural items, and other novel features which will recommend
it to a large class of readers throughout the country. THE NEW YORK READER will
be sold for 6 cents a copy, or $3 a year, making it one of the CHEAPEST, AS WELL AS ONE OF
THE MOST ATTRACTIVE FAMILY PAPERS EVER PUBLISHED.
Remember to look at the first number, or if you cannot obtain it from your newsdealer,
send your address to THE NEW YORK READER, 65 LIBERTY STREET, NEW YORK, AND THE
FIRST NUMBER WILL BE SENT TO YOU FREE! (See page 19.)
“That luminous epistle finishes me with the
religious element among
my constituents. But that my political murder might be made sure, some
evil instinct prompted me to hand you this memorial from the grave
company of elders composing the Board of Alderman of the city of San
Francisco, to try your hand upon—a memorial praying that the city's
right
to the water-lots upon the city front might be established by law of
Congress.
I told you this was a dangerous matter to move in. I told you to write a
non-committal letter to the Aldermen—an ambiguous letter—a letter
that
should avoid, as far as possible, all real consideration and discussion of
the
water-lot question. If there is any feeling left in you—any
shame—surely
this letter you wrote, in obedience to that order, ought to evoke it, when
its words fall upon your ears:
“ `Gentlemen,—George Washington, the
revered Father of his Country, is dead.
His long and brilliant career is closed, alas! for ever. He was greatly
respected in this
section of the country, and his untimely decease cast a gloom over the whole
community.
He died on the 14th day of December, 1799. He passed peacefully away from the
scene
of his honors and his great achievements, the most lamented hero and the best
beloved
that ever earth hath yielded unto Death. At such a time as this you speak of
water-lots!
—what a lot was his!
“ `What is fame? Fame is an accident. Sir Isaac Newton discovered an
apple
falling to the ground—a trivial discovery, truly, and one which a million
men had made
before him—but his parents were influential, and so they tortured that
small circumstance
into something wonderful, and, lo! the simple world took up the
shout, and in
almost the twinkling of an eye, that man was famous. Treasure these
thoughts.
`Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow—
`And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go.'
`Jack and Gill went up the hill
To draw a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Gill came tumbling after.'
those two poems in the light of gems. They are suited to all grades of intelligence, to
every sphere of life—to the field, to the nursery to the guild. Especially should no
Board of Aldermen be without them.
“ `Venerable fossils! write again. Nothing improves one so much as
friendly correspondence.
Write again—and if there is anything in this memorial
of yours that
refers to anything in particular, do not be backward about explaining it. We
shall always
be happy to hear you chirp.
“ `For James W. N—, U. S. Senator.'
“That is an atrocious, a ruinous epistle! Distraction!”
“Well, sir, I am really sorry if there is anything wrong about
it—but—
but—it appears to me to dodge the water-lot question.”
“Dodge the mischief! Oh!—but never mind. As long as destruction
must come now, let it be complete. Let it be complete—let this
last
of your performances, which I am about to read, make a finality of it. I
am a ruined man. I had my misgivings when I gave you the
letter from
Humboldt, asking that the post route from Indian Gulch to Shakspeare
Gap and intermediate points, be changed partly to the old Mormon trail.
But I told you it was a delicate question, and warned you to deal with it
Fashions, — Ancient and Modern. GREAT POPULAR CLOTHIERS
CIVIL AND MILITARY TAILORS
Ye Tailor—"Methinks, Sir Knight, thou hast somewhat
outgrown thine ancient harness."
"Clothes make the man,
The want of them the fellow."
{BROADWAY, CORNER WARREN STREET.}
DEVLIN & CO. NEW YORK
{BROADWAY, CORNER GRAND STREET}
[Description: 497EAF. Page 015. Image of two side by side images of men being clothed by tailors. The image on the left is titled "Ancient 1473" and shows a knight, who is too corpulent for his armor, being wedged into his ill-fitting suit by a tailor wearing a jerkin and pointed hat with feather. The image on the right is titled, "Modern 1873" and shows a dapper man in top hat and tails admiring himself in a mirror while the tailor eagerly looks on. ]
your fatal imbecility impelled you to make this disastrous reply. I should
think you would stop your ears, if you are not dead to all shame:
“ `Gentlemen,—It is a delicate question
about this Indian trail, but, handled with
proper deftness and dubiousness, I doubt not we shall succeed in some measure or
otherwise,
because the place where the route leaves the Lassen Meadows, over
beyond where
those two Shawnee chiefs, Dilapidated-Vengeance and Biter-of-the-Clouds, were
scalped
last winter, this being the favorite direction to some, but others preferring
something else
in consequence of things, the Mormon trail leaving Mosby's at three in the
morning, and
passing through Jawbone Flat to Blucher, and then down by Jug-Handle, the road
passing
to the right of it, and naturally leaving it on the right too, and
Dawson's on the
left of the trail where it passes to the left of said Dawson's, and onward
thence to
Tomahawk, thus making the route cheaper, easier of access to all who can get at
it and
compassing all the desirable objects so considered by others, and, therefore,
conferring
the most good upon the greatest number, and, consequently, I am encouraged to
hope
we shall. However, I shall be ready, and happy, to afford you still futher information
upon the subject, from to time, as you may desire it and the Post
Office Department
be enabled to furnish it to me.
“ `For James W. N—, U. S. Senator.'
“There—now, what do you think of that?”
“Well, I don't know, sir. It—well, it appears to me—to be dubious-enough.”
“Du—leave the house! I am a ruined man. Those Humbolt savages
never will forgive me for tangling their brains up with this
inhuman
letter. I have lost the respect of the Methodist Church, the Board of
Aldermen—”
“Well, I haven't anything to say about that, because I may have missed
it a little in their cases, but I was too many
for the Baldwin's Ranch
people, General!”
“Leave the house! Leave it for ever and for ever, too!”
I regarded that as a sort of covert intimation that my services could
be dispensed with, and so I resigned. I never will be a private secretary
to a senator again. You can't please that kind of people. They don't
know anything. They can't appreciate a party's efforts.
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