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beastly intoxication. It is the imperative duty of the Independents
to prove that this besotted brute was not Mark Twain himself. We
have them at last! This is a case that admits of no shirking. The
voice of the people demands in thunder tones, "WHO WAS THAT MAN?"
It was incredible, absolutely incredible, for a moment, that it was
really my name that was coupled with this disgraceful suspicion. Three
long years had passed over my head since I had tasted ale, beer, wine or
liquor of any kind.
[
It shows what effect the times were having on me when I say that I saw
myself, confidently dubbed "Mr. Delirium Tremens Twain" in the next issue
of that journal without a pang--notwithstanding I knew that with
monotonous fidelity the paper would go on calling me so to the very end.]
By this time anonymous letters were getting to be an important part of my
mail matter. This form was common:
How about that old woman you kiked of your premises which
was beging.
POL. PRY.
And this:
There is things which you have done which is unbeknowens to anybody
but me. You better trot out a few dols, to yours truly, or you'll
hear through the papers from
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