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imperative, the following appeared in one of the papers the very next
day:
"BEHOLD THE MAN! — The Independent candidate still
maintains silence. Because he dare not speak. Every accusation
against him has been amply proved, and they have been endorsed and
re-endorsed by his own eloquent silence, till at this day he stands
forever convicted. Look upon your candidate, Independents! Look
upon the Infamous Perjurer! the Montana Thief! the Body-Snatched
Contemplate your incarnate Delirium Tremens! Your Filthy
Corruptionist! Your Loathsome Embracer! Gaze upon him — ponder
him well — and then say if you can give your honest votes to a
creature who has earned this dismal array of titles by his hideous
crimes, and dare not open his mouth in denial of any one of them!"
There was no possible way of getting out of it, and so in deep
humiliation, I set about preparing to "answer" a mass of baseless
charges and mean and wicked falsehoods. But I never finished the
task, for the very next morning a paper came out with a new horror, a
fresh malignity, and seriously charged me with burning a lunatic
asylum with all its inmates, because it obstructed the view from my
house. This threw me into a sort of panic. Then came the charge of
poisoning my uncle to get his property, with an imperative demand
that the grave should be opened. This drove me to the verge of
distraction. On top of this I was accused of employing toothless and
incompetent old relatives to prepare the food for the foundling
hospital when I was warden. I was wavering—wavering. And at last,
as a due and fitting climax to the shameless persecution that party
rancour had inflicted upon me, nine little toddling children, of all
shades of colour and degrees of raggedness, were taught to rush on to
the platform at a public meeting, and clasp me around the legs and
call me PA!
I gave up. I hauled down my colours and surrendered. I was not
equal to the requirements of a Gubernatorial campaign in the State of
New York, and so I sent in my withdrawal from the candidacy, and in
bitterness of spirit signed it.
"Truly yours, once a decent man, but now
"Mark Twain, I. P., M. T., B. S., D. T., F. C., and L. E."

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