{"id":2616,"date":"2025-04-22T01:54:23","date_gmt":"2025-04-22T01:54:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=2616"},"modified":"2025-04-22T01:54:23","modified_gmt":"2025-04-22T01:54:23","slug":"the-californians-tale-by-mark-twain","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=2616","title":{"rendered":"The Californian\u2019s Tale by Mark Twain"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>The Californian\u2019s Tale by <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/the-great-american-novel-quiz\">Mark Twain<\/a> was originally published in 1893. It tells the tale about a man, Henry, waiting for his wife to come home.  <\/p>\n<p><em>This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you.<\/em><\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">The Californian\u2019s Tale by Mark Twain<\/h2>\n<div class=\"epyt-video-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"__youtube_prefs__ epyt-facade no-lazyload\"><button class=\"epyt-facade-play\"><\/button><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">The Californian\u2019s Tale by Mark Twain<\/h3>\n<p>Thirty-five years ago I was out prospecting on the Stanislaus, tramping all day long with pick and pan and horn, and washing a hatful of dirt here and there, always expecting to make a rich strike, and never doing it. It was a lovely region, woodsy, balmy, delicious, and had once been populous, long years before, but now the people had vanished and the charming paradise was a solitude. They went away when the surface diggings gave out. In one place, where a busy little city with banks and newspapers and fire companies and a mayor and aldermen had been, was nothing but a wide expanse of emerald turf, with not even the faintest sign that human life had ever been present there. This was down toward Tuttletown. In the country neighborhood thereabouts, along the dusty roads, one found at intervals the prettiest little cottage homes, snug and cozy, and so cobwebbed with vines snowed thick with roses that the doors and windows were wholly hidden from sight\u2014sign that these were deserted homes, forsaken years ago by defeated and disappointed families who could neither sell them nor give them away. Now and then, half an hour apart, one came across solitary log cabins of the earliest mining days, built by the first gold-miners, the predecessors of the cottage-builders. In some few cases these cabins were still occupied; and when this was so, you could depend upon it that the occupant was the very pioneer who had built the cabin; and you could depend on another thing, too\u2014that he was there because he had once had his opportunity to go home to the States rich, and had not done it; had rather lost his wealth, and had then in his humiliation resolved to sever all communication with his home relatives and friends, and be to them thenceforth as one dead. Round about California in that day were scattered a host of these living dead men\u2014pride-smitten poor fellows, grizzled and old at forty, whose secret thoughts were made all of regrets and longings\u2014regrets for their wasted lives, and longings to be out of the struggle and done with it all.<\/p>\n<p>It was a lonesome land! Not a sound in all those peaceful expanses of grass and woods but the drowsy hum of insects; no glimpse of man or beast; nothing to keep up your spirits and make you glad to be alive. And so, at last, in the early part of the afternoon, when I caught sight of a human creature, I felt a most grateful uplift. This person was a man about forty-five years old, and he was standing at the gate of one of those cozy little rose-clad cottages of the sort already referred to. However, this one hadn\u2019t a deserted look; it had the look of being lived in and petted and cared for and looked after; and so had its front yard, which was a garden of flowers, abundant, gay, and flourishing. I was invited in, of course, and required to make myself at home\u2014it was the custom of the country.<\/p>\n<p>It was delightful to be in such a place, after long weeks of daily and nightly familiarity with miners\u2019 cabins\u2014with all which this implies of dirt floor, never-made beds, tin plates and cups, bacon and beans and black coffee, and nothing of ornament but war pictures from the Eastern illustrated papers tacked to the log walls. That was all hard, cheerless, materialistic desolation, but here was a nest which had aspects to rest the tired eye and refresh that something in one\u2019s nature which, after long fasting, recognizes, when confronted by the belongings of art, howsoever cheap and modest they may be, that it has unconsciously been famishing and now has found nourishment. I could not have believed that a rag carpet could feast me so, and so content me; or that there could be such solace to the soul in wall-paper and framed lithographs, and bright-colored tidies and lamp-mats, and Windsor chairs, and varnished what-nots, with sea-shells and books and china vases on them, and the score of little unclassifiable tricks and touches that a woman\u2019s hand distributes about a home, which one sees without knowing he sees them, yet would miss in a moment if they were taken away. The delight that was in my heart showed in my face, and the man saw it and was pleased; saw it so plainly that he answered it as if it had been spoken.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAll her work,\u201d he said, caressingly; \u201cshe did it all herself\u2014every bit,\u201d and he took the room in with a glance which was full of affectionate worship. One of those soft Japanese fabrics with which women drape with careful negligence the upper part of a picture-frame was out of adjustment. He noticed it, and rearranged it with cautious pains, stepping back several times to gauge the effect before he got it to suit him. Then he gave it a light finishing pat or two with his hand, and said: \u201cShe always does that. You can\u2019t tell just what it lacks, but it does lack something until you\u2019ve done that\u2014you can see it yourself after it\u2019s done, but that is all you know; you can\u2019t find out the law of it. It\u2019s like the finishing pats a mother gives the child\u2019s hair after she\u2019s got it combed and brushed, I reckon. I\u2019ve seen her fix all these things so much that I can do them all just her way, though I don\u2019t know the law of any of them. But she knows the law. She knows the why and the how both; but I don\u2019t know the why; I only know the how.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He took me into a bedroom so that I might wash my hands; such a bedroom as I had not seen for years: white counterpane, white pillows, carpeted floor, papered walls, pictures, dressing-table, with mirror and pin-cushion and dainty toilet things; and in the corner a wash-stand, with real china-ware bowl and pitcher, and with soap in a china dish, and on a rack more than a dozen towels\u2014towels too clean and white for one out of practice to use without some vague sense of profanation. So my face spoke again, and he answered with gratified words:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAll her work; she did it all herself\u2014every bit. Nothing here that hasn\u2019t felt the touch of her hand. Now you would think\u2014But I mustn\u2019t talk so much.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>By this time I was wiping my hands and glancing from detail to detail of the room\u2019s belongings, as one is apt to do when he is in a new place, where everything he sees is a comfort to his eye and his spirit; and I became conscious, in one of those unaccountable ways, you know, that there was something there somewhere that the man wanted me to discover for myself. I knew it perfectly, and I knew he was trying to help me by furtive indications with his eye, so I tried hard to get on the right track, being eager to gratify him. I failed several times, as I could see out of the corner of my eye without being told; but at last I knew I must be looking straight at the thing\u2014knew it from the pleasure issuing in invisible waves from him. He broke into a happy laugh, and rubbed his hands together, and cried out:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s it! You\u2019ve found it. I knew you would. It\u2019s her picture.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I went to the little black-walnut bracket on the farther wall, and did find there what I had not yet noticed\u2014a daguerreotype-case. It contained the sweetest girlish face, and the most beautiful, as it seemed to me, that I had ever seen. The man drank the admiration from my face, and was fully satisfied.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNineteen her last birthday,\u201d he said, as he put the picture back; \u201cand that was the day we were married. When you see her\u2014ah, just wait till you see her!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhere is she? When will she be in?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, she\u2019s away now. She\u2019s gone to see her people. They live forty or fifty miles from here. She\u2019s been gone two weeks today.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhen do you expect her back?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThis is Wednesday. She\u2019ll be back Saturday, in the evening\u2014about nine o\u2019clock, likely.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I felt a sharp sense of disappointment.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m sorry, because I\u2019ll be gone then,\u201d I said, regretfully.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGone? No\u2014why should you go? Don\u2019t go. She\u2019ll be disappointed.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She would be disappointed\u2014that beautiful creature! If she had said the words herself they could hardly have blessed me more. I was feeling a deep, strong longing to see her\u2014a longing so supplicating, so insistent, that it made me afraid. I said to myself: \u201cI will go straight away from this place, for my peace of mind\u2019s sake.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou see, she likes to have people come and stop with us\u2014people who know things, and can talk\u2014people like you. She delights in it; for she knows\u2014oh, she knows nearly everything herself, and can talk, oh, like a bird\u2014and the books she reads, why, you would be astonished. Don\u2019t go; it\u2019s only a little while, you know, and she\u2019ll be so disappointed.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I heard the words, but hardly noticed them, I was so deep in my thinkings and strugglings. He left me, but I didn\u2019t know. Presently he was back, with the picture case in his hand, and he held it open before me and said:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThere, now, tell her to her face you could have stayed to see her, and you wouldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>That second glimpse broke down my good resolution. I would stay and take the risk. That night we smoked the tranquil pipe, and talked till late about various things, but mainly about her; and certainly I had had no such pleasant and restful time for many a day. The Thursday followed and slipped comfortably away. Toward twilight a big miner from three miles away came\u2014one of the grizzled, stranded pioneers\u2014and gave us warm salutation, clothed in grave and sober speech. Then he said:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI only just dropped over to ask about the little madam, and when is she coming home. Any news from her?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, yes, a letter. Would you like to hear it, Tom?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, I should think I would, if you don\u2019t mind, Henry!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Henry got the letter out of his wallet, and said he would skip some of the private phrases, if we were willing; then he went on and read the bulk of it\u2014a loving, sedate, and altogether charming and gracious piece of handiwork, with a postscript full of affectionate regards and messages to Tom, and Joe, and Charley, and other close friends and neighbors.<\/p>\n<p>As the reader finished, he glanced at Tom, and cried out:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOho, you\u2019re at it again! Take your hands away, and let me see your eyes. You always do that when I read a letter from her. I will write and tell her.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh no, you mustn\u2019t, Henry. I\u2019m getting old, you know, and any little disappointment makes me want to cry. I thought she\u2019d be here herself, and now you\u2019ve got only a letter.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, now, what put that in your head? I thought everybody knew she wasn\u2019t coming till Saturday.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSaturday! Why, come to think, I did know it. I wonder what\u2019s the matter with me lately? Certainly I knew it. Ain\u2019t we all getting ready for her? Well, I must be going now. But I\u2019ll be on hand when she comes, old man!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Late Friday afternoon another gray veteran tramped over from his cabin a mile or so away, and said the boys wanted to have a little gaiety and a good time Saturday night, if Henry thought she wouldn\u2019t be too tired after her journey to be kept up.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTired? She tired! Oh, hear the man! Joe, you know she\u2019d sit up six weeks to please any one of you!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>When Joe heard that there was a letter, he asked to have it read, and the loving messages in it for him broke the old fellow all up; but he said he was such an old wreck that that would happen to him if she only just mentioned his name. \u201cLord, we miss her so!\u201d he said.<\/p>\n<p>Saturday afternoon I found I was taking out my watch pretty often. Henry noticed it, and said, with a startled look:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou don\u2019t think she ought to be here soon, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I felt caught, and a little embarrassed; but I laughed, and said it was a habit of mine when I was in a state of expenctancy. But he didn\u2019t seem quite satisfied; and from that time on he began to show uneasiness. Four times he walked me up the road to a point whence we could see a long distance; and there he would stand, shading his eyes with his hand, and looking. Several times he said:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m getting worried, I\u2019m getting right down worried. I know she\u2019s not due till about nine o\u2019clock, and yet something seems to be trying to warn me that something\u2019s happened. You don\u2019t think anything has happened, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I began to get pretty thoroughly ashamed of him for his childishness; and at last, when he repeated that imploring question still another time, I lost my patience for the moment, and spoke pretty brutally to him. It seemed to shrivel him up and cow him; and he looked so wounded and so humble after that, that I detested myself for having done the cruel and unnecessary thing. And so I was glad when Charley, another veteran, arrived toward the edge of the evening, and nestled up to Henry to hear the letter read, and talked over the preparations for the welcome. Charley fetched out one hearty speech after another, and did his best to drive away his friend\u2019s bodings and apprehensions.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnything happened to her? Henry, that\u2019s pure nonsense. There isn\u2019t anything going to happen to her; just make your mind easy as to that. What did the letter say? Said she was well, didn\u2019t it? And said she\u2019d be here by nine o\u2019clock, didn\u2019t it? Did you ever know her to fail of her word? Why, you know you never did. Well, then, don\u2019t you fret; she\u2019ll be here, and that\u2019s absolutely certain, and as sure as you are born. Come, now, let\u2019s get to decorating\u2014not much time left.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Pretty soon Tom and Joe arrived, and then all hands set about adorning the house with flowers. Toward nine the three miners said that as they had brought their instruments they might as well tune up, for the boys and girls would soon be arriving now, and hungry for a good, old-fashioned break-down. A fiddle, a banjo, and a clarinet\u2014these were the instruments. The trio took their places side by side, and began to play some rattling dance-music, and beat time with their big boots.<\/p>\n<p>It was getting very close to nine. Henry was standing in the door with his eyes directed up the road, his body swaying to the torture of his mental distress. He had been made to drink his wife\u2019s health and safety several times, and now Tom shouted:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAll hands stand by! One more drink, and she\u2019s here!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Joe brought the glasses on a waiter, and served the party. I reached for one of the two remaining glasses, but Joe growled under his breath:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDrop that! Take the other.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Which I did. Henry was served last. He had hardly swallowed his drink when the clock began to strike. He listened till it finished, his face growing pale and paler; then he said:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBoys, I\u2019m sick with fear. Help me\u2014I want to lie down!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>They helped him to the sofa. He began to nestle and drowse, but presently spoke like one talking in his sleep, and said: \u201cDid I hear horses\u2019 feet? Have they come?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>One of the veterans answered, close to his ear: \u201cIt was Jimmy Parish come to say the party got delayed, but they\u2019re right up the road a piece, and coming along. Her horse is lame, but she\u2019ll be here in half an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, I\u2019m so thankful nothing has happened!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He was asleep almost before the words were out of his mouth. In a moment those handy men had his clothes off, and had tucked him into his bed in the chamber where I had washed my hands. They closed the door and came back. Then they seemed preparing to leave; but I said: \u201cPlease don\u2019t go, gentlemen. She won\u2019t know me; I am a stranger.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>They glanced at each other. Then Joe said:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cShe? Poor thing, she\u2019s been dead nineteen years!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDead?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThat or worse. She went to see her folks half a year after she was married, and on her way back, on a Saturday evening, the Indians captured her within five miles of this place, and she\u2019s never been heard of since.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd he lost his mind in consequence?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNever has been sane an hour since. But he only gets bad when that time of year comes round. Then we begin to drop in here, three days before she\u2019s due, to encourage him up, and ask if he\u2019s heard from her, and Saturday we all come and fix up the house with flowers, and get everything ready for a dance. We\u2019ve done it every year for nineteen years. The first Saturday there was twenty-seven of us, without counting the girls; there\u2019s only three of us now, and the girls are gone. We drug him to sleep, or he would go wild; then he\u2019s all right for another year\u2014thinks she\u2019s with him till the last three or four days come round; then he begins to look for her, and gets out his poor old letter, and we come and ask him to read it to us. Lord, she was a darling!\u201d<\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">Best Mark Twain Books to Read<\/h2>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/4a3MhQt\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/49c0vO5\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3TN3mIU\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3xaYu7C\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><br \/>\nClick on the image to buy a copy<\/p>\n<p>Narrated by John Greenman, courtesy of Libravox.org<\/p>\n<p>If you enjoyed The Californian\u2019s Tale by Mark Twain, check out <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/dick-bakers-cat-by-mark-twain\">Dick Baker\u2019s Cat by Mark Twain<\/a><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Californian\u2019s Tale by Mark Twain was originally published in 1893. It tells the tale about a man, Henry, waiting for his wife to come home. This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you. The Californian\u2019s Tale by Mark Twain The Californian\u2019s Tale by Mark Twain [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":0,"featured_media":2617,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2616","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-bookreviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2616"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2616"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2616\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2617"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2616"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2616"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2616"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}