For Susie & Bay, to read.

AN “INNOCENT ABROAD.”

“Mark Twain” in Montreal—A chat with the American humorist.

To the casual observer the name of Samuel L. Clemens which was inscribed on the register of the Windsor Hotel yesterday, or rather Saturday, might probably pass unnoticed. A moment’s reflection, however, would recall to the minds of most persons recollections of pleasant hours spent in the perusal of certain humorous works, and of ofttimes uncontrollable laughter indulged in over the inimitable drolleries contained in those works, whose author is known far and wide as “Mark Twain,” the nom de plume of what he himself would call plain and simple Samuel L. Clemens, who arrived in this city on Saturday evening, and whom, yesterday afternoon, a representative of the Gazette had the pleasure of meeting. Many of our readers are doubtless familiar with the face of the humourist, from the cuts which adorn the front page of many of his works. Suffice it to say that the portrait in question is a fair though not a flattering likeness. In manner Mr. Clemens is rather the reverse of what might be expected. Cool, quiet in demeanor, acting and speaking always with great deliberation. There is little indication of the clever, witty mind which all know him to possess. Nor in discoursing with him is there anything to indicate beyond a stray flash of wit here and there uttered in a dry way which would lead one to imagine that one of the most original humourous writers of the day was speaking. In the course of conversation carried on intermittently between the puff of a corn cob pipe, on his part, with our representative Mr Clemens explained that this was his first visit to Canada, he had skirted round the edge of Upper Canada; he said, in the neighborhood of Detroit and Windsor but had never been in the Dominion. After a brief allusion to his business here, which is in connection with his forthcoming “Prince and Pauper,” something as he explained out of his usual line, Mr Clemens spoke of some of his experiences with lecture audiences, the subject being brought up by the enquiry as to whether he intended, or could be induced to lecture here. His reply to that query was that in order to be in a position to say he had no lectures, he had some years ago burned all his M.S.S. At any rate he did not care to lecture before a strange audience. “Doors open at 7.30, the trouble will begin at eight,” (a familiar line in one of his writings,) suggested the reporter. That, said Mr. Clemens, expressed his idea on the subject, and the trouble wasn’t over till a quarter past, meaning the work of gaining the sympathies of an audience. It was always a hard ordeal breaking the ice and a shivering task until the hearer was enticed from his frosty reserve. In this connection Mr. Clemens alluded to Mr. Archibald Forbes, lecture on the “Inner life of a War Correspondent,” which that gentleman delivered in Hartford a few weeks ago. He had sympathised with Mr. Forbes, he said, on that occasion; great as was the interest of that lecture, it took fully thirty minutes to thaw the Hartford people out of their frozen attitude. En passant, the humorist observed that he had formed one of the party of journalists, which included the great War Correspondent, at the arrival of that “gaudiest of gaudy frauds,” the Shah of Persia.

Naturally one feels inclined to ask a stranger what his impressions of Montreal may be, but the question, in nine cases out of ten, is an absurd one, though, as a rule, every “interviewer” feels it incumbent on him to put it. But in the present case it was obviously useless. Mr. Clemens volunteered the statement that his experience of the city, so far, was confined within the four walls of his room, and his view from the window. He had formed one impression, however, and that was that we were a very religious community. People here, he said, judging from what he could see, went to church about five times a day, and then, in response to an observation, he expressed the opinion that Montreal, more perhaps than Brooklyn, deserved the title of “City of Churches.” These remarks naturally led up to a talk on Montreal, its institutions and characteristics. And speaking of the diversified language and the mode of conducting public business in both French and English, Mr. Clemens alluded to his experience of the legislature in Honolulu, Sandwich Islands, where it is also so conducted. There, in the Parliament the great majority of which is composed of Hawaians, are three or four American officials and others. The former know nothing of English, the latter are ignorant of Hawaian. Nevertheless, this fact is no bar to speech-making. The Americans address their little audience of kindred spirits in their own tongue, and the natives do the same. Here, however, they employ an interpreter, Mr. Wm. Ragsdale, “Bill Ragsdale,” as he is familiarly termed, and to him falls the unenviable lot of translating, sentence by sentence, the “eloquence” of each speaker, native or American, in turn. “Bill” said Mr. Clemens may be said really to have made every speech in that Parliament for years back. Naturally again the reporter suggested a visit to a sitting of our own Council where though no interpreter is employed a somewhat similar scene might be witnessed and some amusement, but little edification it must be confessed, might be gained. Possibly the humorist may take the hint and give to the world a chapter on the Montreal bear garden—City Council, we mean. At this point the announcement of dinner brought the interview to a close, and thanking Mr. Clemens for his courtesy, our reporter withdrew.