The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature)

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Authors: Mark Twain
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But he looked up bright and
pleased, and said-
    "Fire? Oh, that is easy-I will furnish it."
    I was so astonished I couldn't speak; for I had not said anything.
He took the pipe and blew his breath on it, and the tobacco glowed
red and spirals of blue smoke rose up. We jumped up and were
going to run, for that was natural; and we did run a few steps,
although he was yearningly pleading for us to stay, and giving us
his word that he would not do us any harm, but only wanted to be
friends with us and have company. So we stopped and stood, and
wanted to go back, being full of curiosity and wonder, but afraid to
venture. He went on coaxing, in his soft persuasive way; and when
we saw that the pipe did not blow up and nothing happened, our
confidence returned by little and little, and presently our curiosity
got to be stronger than our fear, and we ventured back-but slowly,
and ready to fly, at any alarm.
    Ile was bent on putting us at ease, and he had the right art; one
could not remain timorous and doubtful where a person was so
earnest and simple and gentle and talked so alluringly as he did; no,
he won us over, and it was not long before we were content and
comfortable and chatty, and glad we had found this new friend.
When the feeling of constraint was all gone, we asked him how he had learned to do that strange thing, and he said he hadn't learned
it at all, it came natural to him-like other things-other curious
things.

    "What ones?"
    "Oh, a number; I don't know how many."
    "Will you let us see you do them?"
    "Do-please!" the others said.
    "You won't run away again?"
    "No-indeed we won't. Please do, won't you?"
    "Yes, with pleasure; but you mustn't forget your promise, you
know."
    We said we wouldn't, and he went to a puddle and came back
with water in a cup which he had made out of a leaf, and blew
upon it and threw it out, and it was a lump of ice, the shape of the
cup. We were astonished and charmed, but not afraid any more; we
were very glad to be there, and asked him to go on and do some
more things. And he did. He said he would give us any kind of
fruit we liked, whether it was in season or not. We all spoke at
once-
    "Orange!"
    "Apple!"
    "Grapes!"
    "They are in your pockets," he said, and it was true. And they
were of the best, too, and we ate them and wished we had more,
though none of us said so.
    "You will find them where those came from," he said, "and
everything else your appetites call for; and you need not name the
thing you wish; as long as I am with you, you have only to wish and
find."
    And he said true. There was never anything so wonderful and so
interesting. Bread, cakes, sweets, nuts-whatever one wanted, it
was there. He ate nothing himself, but sat and chatted, and did one
curious thing after another to amuse us. He made a toy squirrel out
of clay, and it ran up a tree and sat on a limb overhead and barked
down at us. Then he made a dog that was not much larger than a
mouse, and it treed the squirrel and danced about the tree, excited and barking, and was as alive as any dog could be. It frightened the
squirrel from tree to tree and followed it up until both were out of
sight in the forest. He made birds out of clay and set them free and
they flew away singing.

    At last I made bold to ask him to tell us who he was.
    "An angel," he said, quite simply, and set another clay bird free
and clapped his hands and made it fly away.
    A kind of awe fell upon us when we heard him say that, and we
were afraid again; but he said we need not be troubled, there was
no occasion for us to be afraid of an angel, and he liked us anyway.
Ile went on chatting as simply and unaffectedly as ever; and while
he talked he made a crowd of little men and women the size of your
finger, and they went diligently to work and cleared and leveled off
a space a couple of yards square in the grass and began to build a
cunning little castle in it, the women mixing the mortar and carrying it

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