he could not smoke on these occasions, because the young lady was
painfully sensitive to the smell of tobacco. Eng cordially wanted them
married, and done with it; but although Chang often asked the momentous
question, the young lady could not gather sufficient courage to answer it
while Eng was by. However, on one occasion, after having walked some
sixteen miles, and sat up till nearly daylight, Eng dropped asleep, from
sheer exhaustion, and then the question was asked and answered. The
lovers were married. All acquainted with the circumstance applauded the
noble brother-in-law. His unwavering faithfulness was the theme of every
tongue. He had stayed by them all through their long and arduous
courtship; and when at last they were married, he lifted his hands above
their heads, and said with impressive unction, “Bless ye, my children, I
will never desert ye!” and he kept his word. Fidelity like this is all
too rare in this cold world.
By and by Eng fell in love with his sister-in-law’s sister, and married
her, and since that day they have all lived together, night and day, in
an exceeding sociability which is touching and beautiful to behold, and
is a scathing rebuke to our boasted civilization.
The sympathy existing between these two brothers is so close and so
refined that the feelings, the impulses, the emotions of the one are
instantly experienced by the other. When one is sick, the other is sick;
when one feels pain, the other feels it; when one is angered, the other’s
temper takes fire. We have already seen with what happy facility they
both fell in love with the same girl. Now Chang is bitterly opposed to
all forms of intemperance, on principle; but Eng is the reverse–for,
while these men’s feelings and emotions are so closely wedded, their
reasoning faculties are unfettered; their thoughts are free. Chang
belongs to the Good Templars, and is a hard–working, enthusiastic
supporter of all temperance reforms. But, to his bitter distress, every
now and then Eng gets drunk, and, of course, that makes Chang drunk too.
This unfortunate thing has been a great sorrow to Chang, for it almost
destroys his usefulness in his favorite field of effort. As sure as he
is to head a great temperance procession Eng ranges up alongside of him,
prompt to the minute, and drunk as a lord; but yet no more dismally and
hopelessly drunk than his brother, who has not tasted a drop. And so the
two begin to hoot and yell, and throw mud and bricks at the Good
Templars; and, of course, they break up the procession. It would be
manifestly wrong to punish Chang for what Eng does, and, therefore, the
Good Templars accept the untoward situation, and suffer in silence and
sorrow. They have officially and deliberately examined into the matter,
and find Chang blameless. They have taken the two brothers and filled
Chang full of warm water and sugar and Eng full of whisky, and in twenty-
five minutes it was not possible to tell which was the drunkest. Both
were as drunk as loons–and on hot whisky punches, by the smell of their
breath. Yet all the while Chang’s moral principles were unsullied, his
conscience clear; and so all just men were forced to confess that he was
not morally, but only physically, drunk. By every right and by every
moral evidence the man was strictly sober; and, therefore, it caused his
friends all the more anguish to see him shake hands with the pump and try
to wind his watch with his night-key.
There is a moral in these solemn warnings–or, at least, a warning in
these solemn morals; one or the other. No matter, it is somehow. Let us
heed it; let us profit by it.
I could say more of an instructive nature about these interesting beings,
but let what I have written suffice.
Having forgotten to mention it sooner, I will remark in conclusion that
the ages of the Siamese Twins are respectively fifty-one and fifty-three
years.
SPEECH AT THE SCOTTISH BANQUET IN LONDON –[Written about 1872.]
On the anniversary festival of the Scottish Corporation of London on
Monday evening, in response to the toast of “The Ladies,” MARK TWAIN