To efface all prejudices and prepossessions before coming to this book is to find a most generous man a prey to money troubles that were the appropriate punishment of something very like greed. The apparently reckless scoffer is the most laborious of writers, throwing into the fire twice what he publishes—always revising in the teeth of his own dictum that "it is perilous to revise while under way." The revolutionist who condones the assassination of Tsars has nothing but good to say of the royalties he hobnobs with, and tirades against the democratic government of his own country and the police of San Francisco of which he has know-Jedgo at first hand. The fearless champion who attacked abuses without counting the cost turns out to be a pacifist not only in theory but in practice. After two weeks in the Army of the South, Lieutenant Clemens resigned and made off to Nevada; he had been one, says Mr. Paine, of "a resolute band which might have done very well, only it rained a good deal, which made soldiering disagreeable and hard." And the joyous companion who set the table in a roar?
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.