A Likely Story: "A Story Without an End" by Mark Twain

We had one game in the ship which was a good time passer--at least it was at night in the smoking room when the men were getting freshened up from the day's monotonies and dullnesses.

But the story which called out the most persistent and determined and ambitious effort was the one which had no ending, and so there was nothing to compare the new endings with.

But the story which called out the most persistent and determined and ambitious effort was the one which had no ending, and so there was nothing to compare the new endings with.

The man who told it said he could furnish the particulars up to a certain point only, because that was as much of the tale as he knew.

He would give anyone fifty dollars who would finish the story to the satisfaction of a jury to be appointed by ourselves.

John Brown, aged thirty-one, good, gentle, bashful, timid, lived in a quiet village in Missouri.

She was wavering, his hopes were high.

She was being touched by his warm interest in her two charity "proteges" and by his contributions toward their support.

He would take along a contribution of double the usual size, and win the mother over; with her opposition annulled, the rest of the conquest would be sure and prompt.

He would take along a contribution of double the usual size, and win the mother over; with her opposition annulled, the rest of the conquest would be sure and prompt.

He took to the road in the middle of a placid Sunday afternoon in the soft Missourian summer, and he was equipped properly for his mission.

He must have the hat, that was manifest; but how was he to get it?

He led the horse to the roadside and set it to cropping grass; then he undressed and put his clothes in the buggy, petted the horse for a moment to secure its compassion and loyalty, then hurried to the stream.

The horse was walking leisurely along the road.

He tagged on and on, imploring the horse, till he had left a mile behind him, and was closing up on the Taylor premises; then at last he was successful, and got into the buggy.

He tagged on and on, imploring the horse, till he had left a mile behind him, and was closing up on the Taylor premises; then at last he was successful, and got into the buggy.

This is no accident, it is a special providence.

He was sent, an angel of deliverance.

"I know it's so," said Mrs. Taylor, fervently.

I could kiss the hem of your lap robe."

Mrs. Enderby set her foot on the buggy step and was about to climb in, when Brown found a remnant of his voice and gasped out

By this time, without any solicitation, they were at the horse's head and were beginning to turn him around.

The danger was imminent, but Brown found his voice again and saved himself.

They all claimed, "Why surely, that is so" and they were all perplexed again.

This was on account of Brown's character--great generosity and kindliness, but complicated with unusual shyness and diffidence, particularly in the presence of ladies.

There was his love for Mary, in a condition where its affair must be handled with great tact, and no mistakes made, no offense given.

Of course none but a happy ending of the story would be accepted by the jury; the finish must find Brown in high credit with the ladies, his behavior without blemish, his modesty unwounded, his character for self-sacrifice maintained, The Old People rescued through him, their benefactor, all the party proud of him, happy in him.

Of course none but a happy ending of the story would be accepted by the jury; the finish must find Brown in high credit with the ladies, his behavior without blemish, his modesty unwounded, his character for self-sacrifice maintained, The Old People rescued through him, their benefactor, all the party proud of him, happy in him.

Of course none but a happy ending of the story would be accepted by the jury; the finish must find Brown in high credit with the ladies, his behavior without blemish, his modesty unwounded, his character for self-sacrifice maintained, The Old People rescued through him, their benefactor, all the party proud of him, happy in him.

It is the reader's privilege to determine for himself how the things came out.