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$Unique_ID{bob01493}
$Pretitle{}
$Title{Sketches, Old And New
How The Author Was Sold In Newark}
$Subtitle{}
$Author{Twain, Mark}
$Affiliation{}
$Subject{never
laugh
}
$Date{1893}
$Log{}
Title: Sketches, Old And New
Book: How The Author Was Sold In Newark
Author: Twain, Mark
Date: 1893
How The Author Was Sold In Newark
It is seldom pleasant to tell on one's self but sometimes it is a sort of
relief to a man to make a confession. I wish to unburden my mind now, and yet
I almost believe that I am moved to do it more because I long to bring censure
upon another man than because I desire to pour balm upon my wounded heart. (I
don't know what balm is, but I believe it is the correct expression to use in
this connection - never having seen any balm.) You may remember that I
lectured in Newark lately for the young gentlemen of the - Society? I did at
any rate. During the afternoon of that day I was talking with one of the
young gentlemen just referred to, and he said he had an uncle who, from some
cause or other, seemed to have grown permanently bereft of all emotion. And
with tears in his eyes, this young man said, "Oh, if I could only see him
laugh once more! Oh, if I could only see him weep!" I was touched. I could
never withstand distress.
I said: "Bring him to my lecture. I'll start him for you."
"Oh, if you could but do it! If you could but do it, all our family
would bless you for evermore - for he is so very dear to us. Oh, my
benefactor, can you make him laugh? can you bring soothing tears to those
parched orbs?"
I was profoundly moved. I said: "My son, bring the old party round. I
have got some jokes in that lecture that will make him laugh if there is any
laugh in him; and if they miss fire, I have got some others that will make him
cry or kill him, one or the other." Then the young man blessed me, and wept on
my neck, and went after his uncle. He placed him in full view, in the second
row of benches that night, and I began on him. I tried him with mild jokes,
then with severe ones; I dosed him with bad jokes and riddled him with good
ones; I fired old stale jokes into him, and peppered him fore and aft with
red-hot new ones; I warmed up to my work. and assaulted him on the right and
left, in front and behind; I fumed and sweated and charged and ranted till I
was hoarse and sick, and frantic and furious; but I never moved him once - I
never started a smile or a tear! Never a ghost of a smile, and never a
suspicion of moisture! I was astounded. I closed the lecture at last with
one despairing shriek - with one wild burst of humor, and hurled a joke of
supernatural atrocity full at him!
Then I sat down bewildered and exhausted.
The president of the society came up and bathed my head with cold water,
and said: "What made you carry on so towards the last?"
I said: "I was trying to make that confounded old fool laugh in the
second row."
And he said: "Well, you were wasting your time, because he is deaf and
dumb, and as blind as a badger!"
Now, was that any way for that old man's nephew to impose on a stranger
and orphan like me? I ask you as a man and brother, if that was any way for
him to do?