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[247] strength. I myself was first introduced to Mark Twain's books in 1872 by an unimpeachable English authority-on a somewhat different line from Mr. Clemens,--namely, Charles Darwin. “What!” he said to me, “you have never read Mark Twain? I always keep his Jumping Frog on a chair by my bedside that I may turn to it in case of sleeplessness!” and however doubtful this form of compliment may appear, it was certainly something that it cheered the wakeful hours of so great a brain. It is not to be admitted, however, that Englishmen have ever been very discriminating critics of Mark Twain. As they have never demanded of him high literary qualities, they have never felt his occasional want of them nor been especially interested when he developed them. He has been to them like those absolutely recognized wits who fill a table with laughter or delight whenever they happen to ask for a bit of bread. That Mark Twain is one of the really great jesters of the world is doubted by no one; but it may be that he will be like many others of that class whose works stand in libraries, whose volumes open easily at one or two often-read pages, while
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