The Nye-Riley combination started in Newark, N. J., November 13, 1888. It was our trial venture. I was ill and unable to be present. The receipts were light, for both men were of Western fame, and had yet to acquire reputations in the East. They found some fault because I was not present, so I got out of bed and went the following evening to Orange, N. J., where we found a very small audience, so small that Nye refused to go on, and wished to end the business then and there. It was not until after much persuasion that he consented to appear. The show was a great success “artistically,” but the box-office receipts were only fifty-four dollars. It was not a pleasant day, for the manager, that followed. The Actors’ Fund had an entertainment in one of the theatres, and I had contributed these “Twins of Genius” as my share of the numerous attractions. They were the success of the occasion, and the newspapers so declared the next day. From that time, applications began to come in from all over the country, East, West, North, and South. The first week’s business showed a balance on the wrong side for the owners, but the “no-business man” did not show a sign of murmuring. Nye’s humorous weekly syndicate newspaper articles made him a drawing attraction, and Riley’s delightful readings of his dialect poems made the entertainment all that the public desired. I ran the show myself in Boston, securing Tremont Temple for the occasion. “Mark Twain” had come to Boston on purpose to attend the entertainment, as he had never heard these “Twins of Genius.” I caught him in the lobby of the Parker House, and told him that he must introduce them. He replied that he believed I was his mortal enemy and determined that he should never have an evening’s enjoyment in my presence. He consented, however, and conducted his brother humorist and the Hoosier poet to the platform. Mark’s presence was a surprise to the audience, and when they recognized him the demonstration was tremendous. The audience rose in a body, and men and women shouted at the very top of their voices. Handkerchiefs waved, the organist even opened every forte key and pedal in the great organ, and the noise went on unabated for minutes. It took some time for the crowd to get down to listening, but when they did subside, as Mark stepped to the front, the silence was as impressive as the noise had been, as Mark said afterward. At that supreme moment nothing was heard but--silence! I had engaged a stenographer to take down the speech, and this is what Mark said: