In 1907 a young girl whom Mr. Clemens met on the steamer Minnehaha called him “grandpa,” and he called her his granddaughter. She was attending St. Timothy's School, at Catonsville, Maryland, and Mr. Clemens promised her to see her graduate. He accordingly made the journey from New York on June 10, 1909, and delivered a short address. I don't know what to tell you girls to do. Mr. Martin has told you everything you ought to do, and now I must give you some don'ts. There are three things which come to my mind which I consider excellent advice: First, girls, don't smoke—that is, don't smoke to excess. I am seventy-three and a half years old, and have been smoking seventy-three of them. But I never smoke to excess—that is, I smoke in moderation, only one cigar at a time. Second, don't drink—that is, don't drink to excess. Third, don't marry—I mean, to excess. Honesty is the best policy. That is an old proverb; but you don't want ever to forget it in your journey through life. TAXES AND MORALS ADDRESS DELIVERED IN NEW YORK, JANUARY 22, 1906 At the twenty-fifth anniversary of the founding of Tuskeegee Institute by Booker Washington, Mr. Choate presided, and in introducing Mr. Clemens made fun of him because he made play his work, and that when he worked hardest he did so lying in bed. I came here in the responsible capacity of policeman to watch Mr. Choate. This is an occasion of grave and serious importance, and it seems necessary for me to be present, so that if he tried to work off any statement that required correction, reduction, refutation, or exposure, there would be a tried friend of the public to protect the house. He has not made one statement whose veracity fails to tally exactly with my own standard. I have never seen a person improve so. This makes me thankful and proud of a country that can produce such men—two such men. And all in the same country. We can't be with you always; we are passing away, and then—well, everything will have to stop, I reckon. It is a sad thought. But in spirit I shall still be with you. Choate, too—if he can. Every born American among the eighty millions, let his creed or destitution of creed be what it may, is indisputably a Christian—to this degree that his moral constitution is Christian.