left the anteroom he particularly requested me not to introduce him to the audience, and I told him (for he called it “a whim of his”) that his little whim should be respected. When we reached the stage I began, after a while, to feel not a little nervous for fear that he would never introduce himself. But he at last arose, and taking a semicircular sweep to the left, and then proceeding to the front, opened something like this:

“Ladies and Gentlemen: I — have — lectured — many — years, — and — in — many — towns, — large — and — small. I have travelled — north — south — east — and — west. I — have — met — many — great — men: very— great — men. But — I — have — never — yet — in — all— my — travels — met — the — president — of — a country — lyceum — who — could — introduce — me — to — an — audience — with — that — distinguished — consideration — which — my merits deserve.”

After this deliverance the house, which had stared at me for several minutes with vexed impatience for not “pressing the button,” was convulsed at my expense, and gave him unremitting attention to the end. (Benton, 610–11)

Olive Logan’s notoriety grew out of—only the in[it]iated knew what. Apparently it was a manufactured notoriety, not an earned one. She did write & publish little things in newspapers & obscure periodicals, but there was no talent in them, & nothing resembling it. In a century they would not have made her known. Her name was really built up out of newspaper paragraphs set afloat by her husband, who was a small-salaried minor journalist. During a year or two this kind of paragraphing was persistent; one could seldom pick up a newspaper without encountering it.

“It is said that Olive Logan has taken a cottage at Nahant, & will spend the summer there.”

“Olive Logan has set her face decidedly against the adoption of the short skirt for afternoon wear.”

“The report that Olive Logan will spend the coming winter in Paris is premature. She has not yet made up her mind.” . . .

On the strength of this oddly created notoriety Olive Logan went on the platform, & for at least two seasons the United States flocked to the lecture halls to look [at] her. She was merely a name & some rich & costly clothes, & neither of these properties had any lasting quality, though for a while they were able to command a fee of a hundred dollars a night. She dropped out of the memories of men a quarter of a century ago. (SLC 1898, 10–11, 13–14)

My dear Mrs Fairbanks

We have been very desirous of hearing from you, Mother wrote you and Mrs Severance some weeks ago and as she has not heard from you she feared that you did not receive it the letter—she directed to the Herald Office and thought perhaps Mr Fairbanks, like many [a] gentleman was carrying it in his pocket—

I do want you very much to come to our wedding— Do not disapoint us— Mr Clemens’ own Mother cannot be here and I am sure that he should have his foster Mother here—

We shall have a quiet wedding, only particular friends will be invited, and of course we are very anxious to have such friends with us— I hope that you and Mr Fairbanks, Allie and Mr Stillwell, Mr and Mrs Severance will come— If you are in the least undecided I am sure that if I could see you for about ten minutes I could persuade you to come, because I do want you so very much, that I should grow eloquent on the subject— But I hope that you are not undecided.

Mother’s letter to Mrs Severance was enclosed in the one to you as she did not know her address—

With love to Allie and kind regards to the other members of your household, I am lovingly

P. S. Mr Clemens lectures in Albany tomorrow night, then about in that vicinity until the seventeenth— We have had letters from Charlie from Yokohama, he reached there in safety after a pleasant trip—