THE $30,000 BEQUEST and Other Stories by Mark Twain

brazen note of the McClintockian trombone breaks through that fog

of music, that note is recognizable, and about it there can be no blur

of doubt.

The novel now arrives at the point where the Major goes home to see

his father. When McClintock wrote this interview he probably

believed it was pathetic.

The road which led to the town presented many attractions Elfonzo

had bid farewell to the youth of deep feeling, and was now wending

his way to the dreaming spot of his fondness. The south winds

whistled through the woods, as the waters dashed against the banks,

as rapid fire in the pent furnace roars. This brought him to

remember while alone, that he quietly left behind the hospitality

of a father’s house, and gladly entered the world, with higher hopes

than are often realized. But as he journeyed onward, he was mindful

of the advice of his father, who had often looked sadly on the ground,

when tears of cruelly deceived hope moistened his eyes. Elfonzo had

been somewhat a dutiful son; yet fond of the amusements of life–

had been in distant lands–had enjoyed the pleasure of the world,

and had frequently returned to the scenes of his boyhood,

almost destitute of many of the comforts of life. In this condition,

he would frequently say to his father, “Have I offended you,

that you look upon me as a stranger, and frown upon me with

stinging looks? Will you not favor me with the sound of your voice?

If I have trampled upon your veneration, or have spread a humid veil

of darkness around your expectations, send me back into the world,

where no heart beats for me–where the foot of man had never yet trod;

but give me at least one kind word–allow me to come into the presence

sometimes of thy winter-worn locks.” “Forbid it, Heaven, that I

should be angry with thee,” answered the father, “my son, and yet

I send thee back to the children of the world–to the cold charity

of the combat, and to a land of victory. I read another destiny

in thy countenance–I learn thy inclinations from the flame that has

already kindled in my soul a strange sensation. It will seek thee,

my dear ELFONZO, it will find thee–thou canst not escape that

lighted torch, which shall blot out from the remembrance of men

a long train of prophecies which they have foretold against thee.

I once thought not so. Once, I was blind; but now the path of life

is plain before me, and my sight is clear; yet, Elfonzo, return to thy

worldly occupation–take again in thy hand that chord of sweet sounds–

struggle with the civilized world and with your own heart;

fly swiftly to the enchanted ground–let the night-OWL send forth

its screams from the stubborn oak–let the sea sport upon the beach,

and the stars sing together; but learn of these, Elfonzo, thy doom,

and thy hiding-place. Our most innocent as well as our most lawful

DESIRES must often be denied us, that we may learn to sacrifice them

to a Higher will.”

Remembering such admonitions with gratitude, Elfonzo was immediately

urged by the recollection of his father’s family to keep moving.

McClintock has a fine gift in the matter of surprises; but as a

rule they are not pleasant ones, they jar upon the feelings.

His closing sentence in the last quotation is of that sort.

It brings one down out of the tinted clouds in too sudden and collapsed

a fashion. It incenses one against the author for a moment.

It makes the reader want to take him by this winter-worn locks,

and trample on his veneration, and deliver him over to the cold

charity of combat, and blot him out with his own lighted torch.

But the feeling does not last. The master takes again in his hand that

concord of sweet sounds of his, and one is reconciled, pacified.

His steps became quicker and quicker–he hastened through the PINY woods,

dark as the forest was, and with joy he very soon reached the little

village of repose, in whose bosom rested the boldest chivalry.

His close attention to every important object–his modest questions

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Categories: Twain, Mark