Standing with his head bared to the tumult, his white hair tossing in the
blast, and looking out upon the wide splendor of the spectacle, he
rechristened the place, and "Stormfield" it became and remained.
The last day of Mark Twain's first week in Redding, June 25th, was
saddened by the news of the death of Grover Cleveland at his home in
Princeton, New Jersey. Clemens had always been an ardent Cleveland
admirer, and to Mrs. Cleveland now he sent this word of condolence--
Your husband was a man I knew and loved and honored for twenty-five
years. I mourn with you.
And once during the evening he said:
"He was one of our two or three real Presidents. There is none to take
his place."
CCLXX
THE ALDRICH MEMORIAL
At the end of June came the dedication at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, of
the Thomas Bailey Aldrich Memorial Museum, which the poet's wife had
established there in the old Aldrich homestead. It was hot weather. We
were obliged to take a rather poor train from South Norwalk, and Clemens
was silent and gloomy most of the way to Boston. Once there, however,
lodged in a cool and comfortable hotel, matters improved. He had brought
along for reading the old copy of Sir Thomas Malory's Arthur Tales, and
after dinner he took off his clothes and climbed into bed and sat up and
read aloud from those stately legends, with comments that I wish I could
remember now, only stopping at last when overpowered with sleep.
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