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SKETCHES NEW AND OLD
By
Mark Twain
CONTENTS:


PREFACE 4

MY WATCH 5

POLITICAL ECONOMY 7

THE JUMPING FROG 11

JOURNALISM IN TENNESSEE 24

THE STORY OF THE BAD LITTLE BOY 29

THE STORY OF THE GOOD LITTLE BOY 32

A COUPLE OF POEMS BY TWAIN AND MOORE 35

NIAGARA 36

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS 41

TO RAISE POULTRY 48

EXPERIENCE OF THE McWILLIAMSES WITH MEMBRANOUS CROUP 50

MY FIRST LITERARY VENTURE 57

HOW THE AUTHOR WAS SOLD IN NEWARK 59

THE OFFICE BORE 61

JOHNNY GREER 63

THE FACTS IN THE CASE OF THE GREAT BEEF CONTRACT 64

THE CASE OF GEORGE FISHER 70

DISGRACEFUL PERSECUTION OF A BOY 75

THE JUDGE'S "SPIRITED WOMAN" 78

INFORMATION WANTED 79

SOME LEARNED FABLES, FOR GOOD OLD BOYS AND GIRLS 81

MY LATE SENATORIAL SECRETARYSHIP 96

A FASHION ITEM 100

RILEY-NEWSPAPER CORRESPONDENT 101

A FINE OLD MAN 104

SCIENCE V.S. LUCK 105

THE LATE BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 107

MR. BLOKE'S ITEM 109

A MEDIEVAL ROMANCE 112

PETITION CONCERNING COPYRIGHT 118

AFTER-DINNER SPEECH 119

LIONIZING MURDERERS 121

A NEW CRIME 124

A CURIOUS DREAM 127

A TRUE STORY 133

THE SIAMESE TWINS 137

SPEECH AT THE SCOTTISH BANQUET IN LONDON 140

A GHOST STORY 142

THE CAPITOLINE VENUS 147

SPEECH ON ACCIDENT INSURANCE 152

JOHN CHINAMAN IN NEW YORK 154

HOW I EDITED AN AGRICULTURAL PAPER 155

THE PETRIFIED MAN 159

MY BLOODY MASSACRE 161

THE UNDERTAKER'S CHAT 163

CONCERNING CHAMBERMAIDS 165

AURELIA'S UNFORTUNATE YOUNG MAN 167

"AFTER" JENKINS 169

ABOUT BARBERS 170

"PARTY CRIES" IN IRELAND 173

THE FACTS CONCERNING THE RECENT RESIGNATION 174

HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF 179

HONORED AS A CURIOSITY 180

FIRST INTERVIEW WITH ARTEMUS WARD 181

CANNIBALISM IN THE CARS 184

THE KILLING OF JULIUS CAESAR "LOCALIZED" 191

THE WIDOW'S PROTEST 195

THE SCRIPTURAL PANORAMIST 196

CURING A COLD 199

A CURIOUS PLEASURE EXCURSION 202

RUNNING FOR GOVERNOR 206

A MYSTERIOUS VISIT 210




PREFACE

I have scattered through this volume a mass of matter which has never been in print before (such as "Learned Fables for Good Old Boys and Girls," the "Jumping Frog restored to the English tongue after martyrdom in the French," the "Membranous Croup" sketch, and many others which I need not specify): not doing this in order to make an advertisement of it, but because these things seemed instructive.


HARTFORD, 1875.

MARK TWAIN.



MY WATCH

--[Written about 1870.]


AN INSTRUCTIVE LITTLE TALE
My beautiful new watch had run eighteen months without losing or gaining, and without breaking any part of its machinery or stopping. I had come to believe it infallible in its judgments about the time of day, and to consider its constitution and its anatomy imperishable. But at last, one night, I let it run down. I grieved about it as if it were a recognized messenger and forerunner of calamity. But by and by I cheered up, set the watch by guess, and commanded my bodings and superstitions to depart. Next day I stepped into the chief jeweler's to set it by the exact time, and the head of the establishment took it out of my hand and proceeded to set it for me. Then he said, "She is four minutes slow-regulator wants pushing up." I tried to stop him--tried to make him understand that the watch kept perfect time. But no; all this human cabbage could see was that the watch was four minutes slow, and the regulator must be pushed up a little; and so, while I danced around him in anguish, and implored him to let the watch alone, he calmly and cruelly did the shameful deed. My watch began to gain. It gained faster and faster day by day. Within the week it sickened to a raging fever, and its pulse went up to a hundred and fifty in the shade. At the end of two months it had left all the timepieces of the town far in the rear, and was a fraction over thirteen days ahead of the almanac. It was away into November enjoying the snow, while the October leaves were still turning. It hurried up house rent, bills payable, and such things, in such a ruinous way that I could not abide it. I took it to the watchmaker to be regulated. He asked me if I had ever had it repaired. I said no, it had never needed any repairing. He looked a look of vicious happiness and eagerly pried the watch open, and then put a small dice-box into his eye and peered into its machinery. He said it wanted cleaning and oiling, besides regulating--come in a week. After being cleaned and oiled, and regulated, my watch slowed down to that degree that it ticked like a tolling bell. I began to be left by trains, I failed all appointments, I got to missing my dinner; my watch strung out three days' grace to four and let me go to protest; I gradually drifted back into yesterday, then day before, then into last week, and by and by the comprehension came upon me that all solitary and alone I was lingering along in week before last, and the world was out of sight. I seemed to detect in myself a sort of sneaking fellow-feeling for the mummy in the museum, and a desire to swap news with him. I went to a watchmaker again. He took the watch all to pieces while I waited, and then said the barrel was "swelled." He said he could reduce it in three days. After this the watch averaged well, but nothing more. For half a day it would go like the very mischief, and keep up such a barking and wheezing and whooping and sneezing and snorting, that I could not hear myself think for the disturbance; and as long as it held out there was not a watch in the land that stood any chance against it. But the rest of the day it would keep on slowing down and fooling along until all the clocks it had left behind caught up again. So at last, at the end of twenty-four hours, it would trot up to the judges' stand all right and just in time. It would show a fair and square average, and no man could say it had done more or less than its duty. But a correct average is only a mild virtue in a watch, and I took this instrument to another watchmaker. He said the king-bolt was broken. I said I was glad it was nothing more serious. To tell the plain truth, I had no idea what the king-bolt was, but I did not choose to appear ignorant to a stranger. He repaired the king-bolt, but what the watch gained in one way it lost in another. It would run awhile and then stop awhile, and then run awhile again, and so on, using its own discretion about the intervals. And every time it went off it kicked back like a musket. I padded my breast for a few days, but finally took the watch to another watchmaker. He picked it all to pieces, and turned the ruin over and over under his glass; and then he said there appeared to be something the matter with the hair-trigger. He fixed it, and gave it a fresh start. It did well now, except that always at ten minutes to ten the hands would shut together like a pair of scissors, and from that time forth they would travel together. The oldest man in the world could not make head or tail of the time of day by such a watch, and so I went again to have the thing repaired. This person said that the crystal had got bent, and that the mainspring was not straight. He also remarked that part of the works needed half-soling. He made these things all right, and then my timepiece performed unexceptionably, save that now and then, after working along quietly for nearly eight hours, everything inside would let go all of a sudden and begin to buzz like a bee, and the hands would straightway begin to spin round and round so fast that their individuality was lost completely, and they simply seemed a delicate spider's web over the face of the watch. She would reel off the next twenty-four hours in six or seven minutes, and then stop with a bang. I went with a heavy heart to one more watchmaker, and looked on while he took her to pieces. Then I prepared to cross-question him rigidly, for this thing was getting serious. The watch had cost two hundred dollars originally, and I seemed to have paid out two or three thousand for repairs. While I waited and looked on I presently recognized in this watchmaker an old acquaintance--a steamboat engineer of other days, and not a good engineer, either. He examined all the parts carefully, just as the other watchmakers had done, and then delivered his verdict with the same confidence of manner.
He said:
"She makes too much steam-you want to hang the monkey-wrench on the safety-valve!"
I brained him on the spot, and had him buried at my own expense.
My uncle William (now deceased, alas!) used to say that a good horse was, a good horse until it had run away once, and that a good watch was a good watch until the repairers got a chance at it. And he used to wonder what became of all the unsuccessful tinkers, and gunsmiths, and shoemakers, and engineers, and blacksmiths; but nobody could ever tell him.

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