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Updated: May 13, 2025
But this mistake, like many another, like crime, for instance, could never be remedied, we smilingly told her; a smile that changed her solicitous remorse to a humorist's view of the situation. Another humorist, one accustomed to view the world from heights known as trapeze elevations, we met a little later on our way out of the narrow upper streets; he was also looking down over Trouville.
The crowd fell back before her; even the virago was silenced as she looked at her face. The humorist's face was as white, but not as immobile, as he gasped, "Christ! if I don't believe she knew nothin' of it!" For a moment the full force of such a supposition, with all its poignancy, its dramatic intensity, and its pathos, possessed the crowd.
At another time, after an interesting talk with Mark Twain, Bok wrote an account of the interview, with the humorist's permission. Desirous that the published account should be in every respect accurate, the manuscript was forwarded to Mark Twain for his approval. This resulted in the following interesting letter: "MY DEAR MR. BOK: "No, no it is like most interviews, pure twaddle, and valueless.
But then, we remembered, France is not the land of humorists, but of wits. Monsieur d'Alencon down yonder, as he rises from his chair to address the judge and jury, will prove to you and me, in the next two hours, how great an orator a Frenchman can be, without trenching an inch on the humorist's ground. The court-room was so still now that you could have heard the fall of a pin.
For it is only fair to state, as a just tribute to the enterprise and energy of that young and thriving settlement, that there was not probably a single citizen who did not feel himself better able to control the deceased humorist's property.
Jack Folinsbee, who had at the outset played a funeral march in dumb show upon an imaginary trombone, desisted, from a lack of sympathy and appreciation, not having, perhaps, your true humorist's capacity to be content with the enjoyment of his own fun. The way led through Grizzly Cañon, by this time clothed in funereal drapery and shadows.
Jack Folinsbee, who had at the outset played a funeral march in dumb show upon an imaginary trombone, desisted, from a lack of sympathy and appreciation not having, perhaps, your true humorist's capacity to be content with the enjoyment of his own fun. The way led through Grizzly Canyon by this time clothed in funereal drapery and shadows.
The crowd fell back before her; even the virago was silenced as she looked at her face. The humorist's face was as white, but not as immobile, as he gasped, "Christ! if I don't believe she knew nothin' of it!" For a moment the full force of such a supposition, with all its poignancy, its dramatic intensity, and its pathos, possessed the crowd.
But as the translation of the humorist's speech, as well as the indiscretions of his companions, were left to the Senor, in Spanish, and to Mrs. Brimmer and Miss Keene, in French, any imminent danger to the harmony of the evening was averted.
When I looked upon them at work with their crude wooden plows and brush harrows, and then heard that they raise excellent crops of grain, I was satisfied that the land must be very fertile; and I was reminded of a certain humorist's remark about the fertility of some land in Kansas, of which he said, "All you need to do is to tickle the ground with a hoe, and it will laugh with a big harvest."
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