A fair young creature, drunk and disorderly, borne in the arms of
Satan. Banner with motto, "Get What You Can, Keep What You Get."
Guard of Honor—Monarchs, Presidents, Tammany Bosses, Burglars, Land
Thieves, Convicts, etc., appropriately clothed and bearing the
symbols of their several trades.
Christendom
A majestic matron in flowing robes drenched with blood. On her head
a golden crown of thorns; impaled on its spines the bleeding heads
of patriots who died for their countries Boers, Boxers, Filipinos;
in one hand a slung-shot, in the other a Bible, open at the text "Do
unto others," etc. Protruding from pocket bottle labeled "We bring
you the blessings of civilization." Necklace-handcuffs and a
burglar's jimmy.
Supporters—At one elbow Slaughter, at the other Hypocrisy.
Banner with motto—"Love Your Neighbor's Goods as Yourself."
Ensign—The Black Flag.
Guard of Honor—Missionaries and German, French, Russian, and
British soldiers laden with loot.
And so on, with a section for each nation of the earth, headed each by the black flag, each bearing horrid emblems, instruments of torture, mutilated prisoners, broken hearts, floats piled with bloody corpses. At the end of all, banners inscribed:
"All White Men are Born Free and Equal."
"Christ died to make men holy,
Christ died to make men free."
with the American flag furled and draped in crepe, and the shade of Lincoln towering vast and dim toward the sky, brooding with sorrowful aspect over the far-reaching pageant. With much more of the same sort. It is a fearful document, too fearful, we may believe, for Mrs. Clemens ever to consent to its publication.
Advancing years did little toward destroying Mark Twain's interest in human affairs. At no time in his life was he more variously concerned and employed than in his sixty-seventh year—matters social, literary, political, religious, financial, scientific. He was always alive, young, actively cultivating or devising interests—valuable and otherwise, though never less than important to him.
He had plenty of money again, for one thing, and he liked to find dazzlingly new ways for investing it. As in the old days, he was always putting "twenty-five or forty thousand dollars," as he said, into something that promised multiplied returns. Howells tells how he found him looking wonderfully well, and when he asked the name of his elixir he learned that it was plasmon.