He was a darling; he was equal to anything; there wasn't anything he couldn't turn his hand to.

Of late I had been training him for journalism, for the time seemed about right for a start in the newspaper line; nothing big, but just a small weekly for experimental circulation in my civilization-nurseries.

He took to it like a duck; there was an editor concealed in him, sure.
Already he had doubled himself in one way; he talked sixth century and wrote nineteenth.

His journalistic style was climbing, steadily; it was already up to the back settlement Alabama mark, and couldn't be told from the editorial output of that region either by matter or flavor.
We had another large departure on hand, too.

This was a telegraph and a telephone; our first venture in this line.