ABSTRACT
It is an anomaly unprecedented in the history of criticism, that Mark Twain should live to receive even a doubtful recognition from the schoolmen of his time. For he has consistently despised prevailing canons of sound taste, and yet has reached the hearts of men. In the eyes of the few, he has been that most contemptible of creatures, a popular scribbler. With talents that might have justified a more select ambition, he has been willing to be popular.
