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look up at the row of houses on the edge of the bluff； shake their fists；
and pour out Chinese vituperation。 By and by； when they had retired and
everything was quiet again； their tormentors would throw another bottle。
This was their Sunday amusement。
At a place on Minna Street they lived with a private family。 At first
Clemens was delighted。
〃Just look at it； Steve；〃 he said。 〃What a nice； quiet place。 Not a
thing to disturb us。〃
But next morning a dog began to howl。 Gillis woke this time； to find his
room…mate standing in the door that opened out into a back garden；
holding a big revolver； his hand shaking with cold and excitement。
〃Came here； Steve；〃 he said。 〃Come here and kill him。 I'm so chilled
through I can't get a bead on him。〃
〃Sam；〃 said Steve； 〃don't shoot him。 Just swear at him。 You can easily
kill him at that range with your profanity。〃
Steve Gillis declares that Mark Twain then let go such a scorching；
singeing blast that the brute's owner sold him next day for a Mexican
hairless dog。
We gather that they moved； on an average； about once a month。 A home
letter of September 25； 1864； says：
We have been here only four months； yet we have changed our lodging
five times。 We are very comfortably fixed where we are now and have
no fault to find with the rooms or the people。 We are the only
lodgers…in a well…to…do private family 。 。 。 。 But I need change
and must move again。
This was the Minna Street placethe place of the dog。 In the same
letter he mentions having made a new arrangement with the Call； by which
he is to receive twenty…five dollars a week； with no more night…work； he
says further that he has closed with the Californian for weekly articles
at twelve dollars each。
XLVII
BOHEMIAN DAYS
Mark Twain's position on the 'Call' was uncongenial from the start。 San
Francisco was a larger city than Virginia； the work there was necessarily
more impersonal； more a routine of news…gathering and drudgery。 He once
set down his own memories of it：
At nine in the morning I had to be at the police court for an hour
and make a brief history of the squabbles of the night before。 They
were usually between Irishmen and Irishmen； and Chinamen and
Chinamen； with now and then a squabble between the two races； for a
change。
During the rest of the day we raked the town from end to end；
gathering such material as we might； wherewith to fill our required
columns； and if there were no fires to report； we started some。 At
night we visited the six theaters； one after the other； seven nights
in the week。 We remained in each of those places five minutes； got
the merest passing glimpse of play and opera； and with that for a
text we 〃wrote up〃 those plays and operas； as the phrase goes；
torturing our souls every night in the effort to find something to
say about those performances which we had not said a couple of
hundred times before。
It was fearful drudgery…soulless drudgeryand almost destitute of
interest。 It was an awful slavery for a lazy man。
On the Enterprise he had been free； with a liberty that amounted to
license。 He could write what he wished； and was personally responsible
to the readers。 On the Call he was simply a part of a news…machine；
restricted by a policy； the whole a part of a still greater machine
politics。 Once he saw some butchers set their dogs on an unoffending
Chinaman； a policeman looking on with amused interest。 He wrote an
indignant article criticizing the city government and raking the police。
In Virginia City this would have been a welcome delight； in San Francisco
it did not appear。
At another time he found a policeman asleep on his beat。 Going to a
near…by vegetable stall he borrowed a large cabbage…leaf； came back and
stood over the sleeper； gently fanning him。 It would be wasted effort to
make an item of this incident； but he could publish it in his own
fashion。 He stood there fanning the sleeping official until a large
crowd collected。 When he thought it was large enough he went away。 Next
day the joke was all over the city。
Only one of the several severe articles he wrote criticizing officials
and institutions seems to have appearedan attack on an undertaker whose
establishment formed a branch of the coroner's office。 The management of
this place one day refused information to a Call reporter； and the next
morning its proprietor was terrified by a scathing denunciation of his
firm。 It began； 〃Those body…snatchers〃 and continued through half a
column of such scorching strictures as only Mark Twain could devise。 The
Call's policy of suppression evidently did not include criticisms of
deputy coroners。
Such liberty； however； was too rare for Mark Twain； and he lost interest。
He confessed afterward that he became indifferent and lazy； and that
George E。 Barnes； one of the publishers of the Call； at last allowed him
an assistant。 He selected from the counting…room a big； hulking youth by
the name of McGlooral； with the acquired prefix of 〃Smiggy。〃 Clemens had
taken a fancy to Smiggy McGlooralon account of his name and size
perhapsand Smiggy； devoted to his patron； worked like a slave gathering
news nightsdaytimes； too； if necessaryall of which was demoralizing
to a man who had small appetite for his place anyway。 It was only a
question of time when Smiggy alone would be sufficient for the job。
There were other and pleasanter things in San Francisco。 The personal
and literary associations were worth while。 At his right hand in the
Call office sat Frank Soulea gentle spirita graceful versifier who
believed himself a poet。 Mark Twain deferred to Frank Soule in those
days。 He thought his verses exquisite in their workmanship； a word of
praise from Soule gave him happiness。 In a luxurious office up…stairs
was another congenial spirita gifted； handsome fellow of twenty…four；
who was secretary of the Mint； and who presently became editor of a new
literary weekly； the Californian； which Charles Henry Webb had founded。
This young man's name was Francis Bret Harte； originally from Albany；
later a miner and school…teacher on the Stanislaus； still later a
compositor； finally a contributor； on the Golden Era。 His fame scarcely
reached beyond San Francisco as yet； but among the little coterie of
writing folk that clustered about the Era office his rank was high。 Mark
Twain fraternized with Bret Harte and the Era group generally。 He felt
that he had reached the landor at least the borderlandof Bohemia；
that Ultima Thule of every young literary dream。
San Francisco did； in fact； have a very definite literary atmosphere and
a literature of its own。 Its coterie of writers had drifted from here
and there； but they had merged themselves into a California body…poetic；
quite as individual as that of Cambridge； even if less famous； less
fortunate in emoluments than the Boston group。 Joseph E。 Lawrence；
familiarly known as 〃Joe〃 Lawrence； was editor of the Golden Era； ＇The
Golden Era； California's first literary publication； was