The Christmas Victory

Meanwhile in San Francesco, the ever popular Mark Twain had received a visit from the editor of the San Francisco Alta California, requesting that he be their New York correspondent. “The correspondent we had in New York just passed away, “urged the editor, “and we really need someone to take his place.”

“Fine,” Mark replied. “I could do with another change of scenery.” So he set out by coach and rail for New York. But somehow New York just didn’t strike his fancy. Within a week, he was bored and started looking for another change of scenery. Another week later he found what he was looking for by way of an ad in the local paper for the "great European pleasure excursion," a five-and-a-half-month chartered voyage aboard the steamer Quaker City to Europe and the Holy Land, organized by members of Henry Ward Beecher's Plymouth Church in Brooklyn. He applied and was accepted as a passenger. He wrote to The Alta California that he would be gone for some time on a European excursion and would write about his trip upon his return. He also notified The Call and the other San Francisco papers in case they were expecting to hear from him in the meantime. The Quaker City set sail on the first of June.

Among the passengers was a young man name Charles Langdon. One day, as Sam (or Mark as he was calling himself) was lounging in on deck in one of the lounge chairs and glancing at the local paper, another young man came and sat himself down in the chair beside him. “It’s a beautiful day for an ocean trip.” The stranger said.

Mark nodded and grunted. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh, I’m Charles Langdon.” He stuck out his hand.

Mark responded in kind. “Uh—Sam—Sam Clemens, but perhaps better known as Mark Twain.”

Charles Langdon smiled. “Mark Twain? So you’re th’ writer of that jumpin’ frog story?”

“One and th’ same.”

“And I suppose you came on board to see more of the world to write about?”

“Something like that. What about you?”

“Oh, just to see more of the world—especially the Holy lands. That, I’d really like to see—and to actually be in the places where the Savior walked and lived. It’ll be a real thrill.”

Mark frowned and reached into his pocket for a cigar. “Oh, you’re quite religious, I take it.”

“I’ll just say that I’m a Christ follower. My whole family is.”

Mark put the cigar into his mouth and reached for a match. “Mind if I smoke.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t.”

He took out the cigar and frowned. “Well, it can wait. Tell me, are all your family Christ followers as you put it?”

“Oh yes, especially my mom and my sister. My father too, though he’s not actually into it as much as they are.”

Mark’s eyes lit up. “You have a sister?”

“Oh, yes. Here, let me show her to you.”

Charles Langdon reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Now let’s see.” He thumbed through several photographs. “Here’s my father, and there’s my mother, and here! Here she is. This is my sister, Olivia.”

From the moment he gazed upon the photograph, Mark’s heart melted within him. He thought he had never seen such a vision of beauty. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “You simply have to introduce me to her when we get back to New York.”

“I’ll do better than that. The first thing when we get back, you’re invited to our place for dinner.”

“That’s very kind of you. Are you sure your folks won’t mind?”

“Nah! We have company all the time.”