The Loves of Alonzo Fitz Clarence and Rosannah Ethelton

霺
The Loves of Alonzo Fitz Clarence and Rosannah Ethelton

The Project Gutenberg Etext of Alonzo Fitz and Other Stories, by Twain #45 in our series by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)
Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission. Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers*****
Title: Alonzo Fitz and Other Stories
Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)
Release Date: April, 2002 [EBook #3184] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on February 6, 2001] [This file was last updated on November 14, 2002]
Edition: 12
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES ***

This eBook was produced by David Widger Extensive proofing of this file was done by Trevor Carlson

ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES
by Mark Twain

CONTENTS OF THIS VOLUME:
THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE THE GRATEFUL POODLE THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR THE GRATEFUL HUSBAND PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN THE CANVASSER'S TALE AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER PARIS NOTES LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY SPEECH ON THE BABIES SPEECH ON THE WEATHER CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE ROGERS

THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON
It was well along in the forenoon of a bitter winter's day. The town of Eastport, in the state of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One could look long distances down them and see nothing but a dead-white emptiness, with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that you could see the silence--no, you could only hear it. The sidewalks were merely long, deep ditches, with steep snow walls on either side. Here and there you might hear the faint, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you were quick enough you might catch a glimpse of a distant black figure stooping and disappearing in one of those ditches, and reappearing the next moment with a motion which you would know meant the heaving out of a shovelful of snow. But you needed to be quick, for that black figure would not linger, but would soon drop that shovel and scud for the house, thrashing itself with its arms to warm them. Yes, it was too venomously cold for snow-shovelers or anybody else to stay out long.
Presently the sky darkened; then the wind rose and began to blow in fitful, vigorous gusts, which sent clouds of powdery snow aloft, and straight ahead, and everywhere. Under the impulse of one of these gusts, great white drifts banked themselves like graves across the streets; a moment later another gust shifted them around the other way, driving a fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the gale drives the spume flakes from wave-crests at sea; a third gust swept that place as clean as your hand, if it saw fit. This was fooling, this was play; but each and all of the gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for that was business.
Alonzo Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant little parlor, in a lovely blue silk dressing-gown, with cuffs and facings of crimson satin, elaborately quilted. The remains of his breakfast were before him, and the dainty and costly little table service added a harmonious charm to the grace, beauty, and richness of the fixed appointments of the room. A cheery fire was blazing on the hearth.
A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great wave of snow washed against them with a drenching sound, so to speak. The handsome young bachelor murmured:
"That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am content. But what to do for company? Mother is well enough, Aunt Susan is well enough; but these, like the poor, I have with me always. On so grim a day as this, one needs a new interest, a fresh element, to whet the dull edge of captivity. That was very neatly said, but it doesn't mean anything. One doesn't want the edge of