 The Cavalcade of America presented by DuPont tells how our nation has one leadership in many fields. Important among these is chemistry. Chemical research by developing new uses for the raw materials from American farms and mines and forests has created a great variety of products that contribute daily to your comfort and convenience. If you're interested in chemistry, you'll find something of value in a book that we have just prepared called The Kinship of DuPont Products. With this booklet is included a 13-color chemical chart which illustrates the interesting interrelationship of DuPont products. A copy may be obtained free of charge by writing DuPont, Wilmington, Delaware. We shall have more to tell you about this booklet and chart at the close of the program. The name Mark Twain is used on this program by special permission of the trustees of the Samuel L. Clemens Estate, the Mark Twain Company and Harper Brothers Publishers extended through Charles T. Lark, attorney for the estate. Our DuPont Cavalcade Orchestra sets our scene with two movements from Fertigrofe's Mississippi Suite, Father of Waters and Huckleberry Finn. If its authors be critical or inspirational, their writings must furnish the guide to each succeeding generation on the customs, traditions, and ambitions of the race. It is 1845 near the small sleepy village of Hannibal, Missouri. In that typical American village lives Sam Clemens, later to be called Mark Twain. As a small boy, he has his best time swimming in the Mississippi. Now, leaving his playmate behind, he swims far out toward the middle of the Great River. We're about to be swimming out in the middle of the Mississippi. Enough for you to make it tadpole. You've never been in a boat before, son? Not on a big one. I could sweep along with a cart like this back there. You see that point of land ahead? We're sweeping in close to it, and you jump off there and swim. I'm going to carry a clear knowledge. The barge a little longer, mister. Don't figure it better, son. Sure gets fun, though. You're going to barge your own. You're going to grow up someday, Angie. Pirates. Pirates is getting this. You better be a river. I will, mister. Sure like this old Mississippi. Let's see you swim to that point. Bet you can't make it, for I'm up even that cliff head. Oh, man. Mighty spunky kid. Sam Clemens lived a typical American boy's life in a typical American small town. Sam Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, which came to represent for millions of his countrymen their own memories of youth. He was in his middle 20s when he began fulfilling childhood ambition. In 1856, in the pilot house of the Mississippi River Steamboat. Sam, you've been a good apprentice pilot now for two years. Are you certain you know this part of the river? Captain Bixby, I know it like the back of my hand. Then I'm going to let you take the ship across the loan from this shortage of the water. Will you recommend me for my pilot's license afterwards? Well, we'll see. Aces. You stay here in the pilot house with Mr. Clemens. In case he wants to send me any messages on the trip. Yes, Captain. I'm afraid you don't trust me, Captain. Well, we'll see. I'll be on the lower deck half. Aces, do you think I'll look fine in the pilot's cap? You don't be a real for-sure pilot, Mr. Clemens? Just as soon as it takes me to get from here to that other bank. Now, Sam, back, Aces. I got to give the sailing signal. We're getting off smooth. Sure, I wish I was going to be a river captain. Oh, watch how I steer, and that'll be lesson one for you, Aces. Say, why doesn't that ledsman up in front take a sound? I thought you know all the depth in this river, Mr. Clemens. Sure, I know the depth myself, but I'd just like to hear him call him. Give me the sounding. Mark Wayne. Let's see, that means 2,000, 12 feet. What? Why, it ought to be 40 feet right here. Don't get excited, Mr. Clemens. Yes, but what's the matter? Is the bottom shifted? It couldn't have since I was over at last. The ledsman on the port side now is going to give a sound, and maybe that'll be better. What? 12 feet. Well, my heavens, we'll be around. We'll dock this ship. Oh, it's too late. Run for Captain Bixby. The trouble here? Well, we were heading for a bank, Captain, but now we're sailing right on. Well, how deep ought it to be right here? 80 feet, but the ledsman said 40. Huh? I told the ledsman to call the wrong depth. You see, Sam, you lose your head. Till you learn how to keep it, you can't be a river pilot. Oh, I feel mighty silly. You ought to. Well, anyway, I'm not discouraged, Captain. I know every inch of this river. All I gotta do now is know my own mind. Clemens won his license and became a skillful river pilot. But he was forced to leave the Mississippi when the Civil War ended its steamer traffic. In 1861, in Virginia City, Nevada, Sam Clemens stands politely at the door of Mr. Goodman, editor of Virginia City's newspaper. Mr. Goodman? Oh, hello there, stranger. What do you want? I've been walking about 60 miles to get here, huh? Covered with dust. Wrecking the first thing I want is a brush. Brush, eh? Yeah. Well, I guess you can use ours. Hanging right beside you on the wall. Oh, thanks a lot. There's enough dirt on me to choke a heart. Look at it, would you? Anything else we can supply you with? Well, I'm trying to think. Maybe about two ounce sirloin steaks and mashed potatoes and about half an apple pie. You've got enough brass to go far in the world, stranger. I'm afraid we can't go on acting like a hotel. Just a newspaper. Sure, I know it. I like working for it. Working for it? What makes you think you're going to work here? Why, you want a calmness, don't you? A good reporter. I especially want to write stuff that can give people a good laugh. Most of them need one. You don't say. I've even picked out my name. Mark Twain. That's river language. It's what the legend calls out for a 2,000 sounding. I had an experience as a river pilot once that certainly impressed the term Mark Twain on my memory. I'd love to hear more about your career, Mr. Twain. But the truth is, I've got a newspaper to put out. And a lily-livered coyote who was supposed to show up here hasn't come. Well, aren't you going to hire me? Why, in the name of Pete, should I? But you wrote me a letter asking me to come here. I had to walk all the way. I'm done in. You wrote me, say, what's your real name? Sam Clemmons. Well, that's different, Mr. Clemmons. Shake hands. Say, you gave me a scare. I reckon I forgot to tell him a real name when it came in. I'm sort of absent-minded. Boy, everybody in Virginia City is splitting their sides laughing over the stories you've been in. Wait till I get some sharp pencil-coys. Now, what do you like to write on this? Sirloin steak. That copy boy! What would the two-star hair-cows get a steak the size of a spear? Thus, young Sam Clemmons became Mark Twain writer. Americans were to appreciate the privilege of seeing their booming west through such a book as Ruffingen. They heaped their ready praise on this new and original writer. But young Mark Twain was to face a more critical and alien audience. In 1873, backstage in a London lecture hall... Mr. Dolby, you're a manager. We have a big audience, but I can't talk tonight. What are you afraid of, Mr. Twain? You've given hundreds of talks in the United States. I've seen your press notices. Well, I was talking to a lot of rough-necks like myself who knew my language, but pictured the impudence of trying to make an English audience understand an American joke. Mr. Twain, you can't disappoint this audience. They've all come to hear more jokes like the one about Cotton Umbrella. The what? Don't you remember what you said the fortnight ago when you laughed at your American habit of carrying a Cotton Umbrella? What'd I say? You said Americans carried Cotton Umbrella because they were the only kind that Nicklishman wouldn't steal. Good heavens. Well, then I've insulted people. Oh, well, Mr. Twain, London loves that story. Begging your pardon, Mr. Dolby, but any time to turn up the lights, the audience is restless. Duncan, for the love of heaven, tell Mr. Twain that people read his books in England. Why, Mr. Twain, the Olympic cycle in Reading Club, what I belong to, has taken up your work special. You read them? Well, I'm in the middle of Innocence Abroad. So many of those things you sign are often stopped myself. Nick's me last. You see, Mr. Twain, you're universal. And you ought to go on stage for the sake of your country of nothing else. My country? What my country got to do with it? Because here in England, we can match your polite intellectual artists every way. There are three personalities that Englishmen today can't hear enough about. Abraham Lincoln, Artemis Ward, and yourself. Let me go on at the mountain. No, no, no, I'll go on stage myself right now while I'm able. Good heavens, Mr. Dolby. He's walking right out without no introduction. Let me come to them right. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Twain had fully expected to be here this evening and to tell the truth he is here and will now give his lecture entitled Our Fellow Savages of the Sandwich Islands. Mark Twain brought to Americans the better knowledge of their country. In England, in Europe, and even in the distant Orient, his books or translations of them brought a better understanding of American ways to her neighbors. The cavalcade of America presented by Jupont moves on. In 1842, in Concord, Massachusetts, young Louisa May Orkett plays with the village children and Ralph Waldo Emerson's barn. Russ Roderick, are you punished for your terrible wickedness? All right, I feel. I just run into with my soul. I know, Louisa May, but I got the giggles. Oh, all right, keep still, so Louisa can finish her scenes. It's marvelous. Go on, Louisa. But what awful things has made me play my own brother? Better if we had both fallen off this cliff and into the sea, do you know it? Don't face up and down so close to the edge of a halo, Louisa. Yes. Oh, dark and roaring waves. Perhaps I should leap from this cliff. Did I hear a scream out here? Mr. Emerson, Louisa was acting one of her plays and she fell on her head. Oh, Elri, you and Margaret should be running home. I heard your mother calling you for supper. I'll take care of Louisa. Thanks, Uncle Ross, but I'll be... Poor Char. How did it feel now? Better. Could I use one of the handkerchiefs, please? There you are. Come on out here, where we can sit down under the apple tree. I came out specially to ask about your mother. Oh, she's all right. She's lonesome sometimes because she misses Papa. All of us do. Will he come back from London soon, do you think, Mr. Emerson? Either he'll come back or else he'll found his new school successfully over there and will send for you to London. Would you like that? Oh, I'd love to see other countries, but I don't think I ever will. We're too poor. Don't feel that, Char. Yes, but we are, though. I heard you lately talking after church one day. One said, bouncing orchids just a dreamer can't even take care of his wife and those four little girls. Concert is a very gossipy town, Louisa. Most towns are. But it might be true. Maybe that's why mommy works so terribly hard and still. Sometimes we don't have enough to eat. That's what I wanted to know. Let me know when that happens, will you, Louisa? Will you promise? Yes, sir. I worry about my mommy. I know she works till it isn't good for her. Help her all you can, Louisa. I mean to. Now, how is your bump, Char? Why, it's all gone. At least I'd forgotten it. You're learning to be brave, Louisa. Always forget your own hurt in the ills of others. Well, I must go in, Char, because Mrs. Emerson has supper ready. But please take your mother this book to read. Oh, thank you, sir. How's it, picture? I think so. Good night, Louisa. And don't forget to run home before dark. I won't. Louisa! There's your sister Anna calling. Good night, Louisa. Good night. Louisa! Oh, oh, here you are. Mommy's a supper time. Mr. Emerson put a $10 note for us in this book. Oh, Anna, isn't he a good man? As young Louisa may grew up, she found inspiration in such neighbors as the Emerson's and the Hawthorne. At 19, she sold her first story for $5. But her writing had to be interspersed with other works as a paid companion, as a governor, and as a seamstress. One particularly hard winter when Mrs. Alcott, Louisa May, and her younger sister Betty had gone to live in Boston. In the front room of this small flat, Louisa finishes her fitting for one of her dressmaking customers. I hope you surely have my dress finished by Thursday, Mrs. Alcott. Sometimes you're slow. I know, Mrs. Sandford. Mother's faster. I'll ask her to help me with it. Well, just so it's in some shape to wear. Where did I put that magazine I was carrying? Well, here it is under your veil. Oh, what's the matter? You jump like it fits you. Oh, nothing, but... I have a story in this magazine. A story? You? Yes, I sometimes write silly little things. But this is a continued story. See? Here it is. Oh, I don't believe it. Well, I didn't mean to talk about it. I'm not proud of it, goodness knows. But here's the next chapter I'm just writing. Let me see. Why, Mrs. Alcott, I never dreamed. Oh, I adore this story. If this is really the next chapter, could I take it home? Oh, I'm afraid not, Mrs. Sandford. I have to send it in tomorrow. Oh, you're amazing. My own dressmaker. Well, I don't see how you get under it. Well, I think up the plot while I'm sewing, and then I write on Saturdays and Sundays. You want to give all your time to writing. Some time when I have money enough, I will. Oh, you, you want the dress by Serifie. I remember. Oh, not if it puts you out too much. I mean, I am more anxious to find out what happens to your splendid hero. He's too divine. Good day, Mrs. Alcott. Don't work too hard. Good day, Mrs. Sandford. Wait a minute, Betty. I'll be right in, dear. Betty, what do you think? I've met my public at last. It's that big, fat Mrs. Sandford. She thinks my trice is too divine. Betty, what's the matter? Oh, I got into bed because I felt weak again. Oh, don't look so scared yet. But you've been crying. Why, Betty? Because I couldn't fix supper for you and Mommy. Oh, Betty, my mother and I are both as strong as horses. We can fix our own meals. It's wicked for you to cry about such nonsense. It's only lately I've grieved that I couldn't have done more help when I'm gone. Gone? Oh, I didn't mean to say that. But you know how you were always lining yourself and making us promise to look after Mommy. Louisa, I'm seeing my share of that promise. Back to you. I'll keep it, dear. Whatever happens, you're not to worry. Betty Alcott dies and Louisa grieves deeply. But personal sorrow, poverty, and unceasing hard work never dim for Louisa Alcott the goal she had set herself to attain. In 1868, in the Alcott's living room at Concord, young Julian Hoffa and son of the famous novelist, May Alcott and her older sister Louisa talk together. May is speaking. Oh, Louisa's so intellectual. All she does is scribble, scribble, scribble. Is this the manuscript? Let me see it. Now put that down, Julian. Oh, let me look at it. Do you know it's around your father's manuscript and read what he's written? Say, you're developing a temper. Isn't she pretty when she brushes? Please, Julian, if you put that manuscript down, I'll tell you why I'm so concerned about it. I'm waiting for a letter from the publisher I've sent it to. You've sent it already? And you never told us. Oh, Mommy. Oh, Mommy knows it. She's the only one I have to. Louisa, you'll be famous someday, I'm sure. Look here, here's a good scene about a picnic. It sounds just like the picnic we've had in Compton. What are you going to call it, Louisa? Little Women. Little Women. Louisa, Louisa. Yes, Mother, a letter for you from Boston. Is it the letter? Perhaps she just opens upstairs. Oh, I've told May and Julian about it, Mommy. I may as well open it here. Louisa, don't be too disappointed. Read it, Louisa. What are you saying? Wait a minute. He thinks the opening chapter is a doll. Well, so do I. But he thinks it seems wholesome. It's a good girl's book. He's taken it. Oh, she published it. Oh, so glad. Congratulations, Arthur. My dear, you don't need to be told how glad your mother is. And the best part of it is knowing you've done it all yourself. Oh, no, Mommy. You've helped and May and Betty and everyone. Because all of us have lived this book. If it succeeds, that will be the reason why. Louisa Alcott was a valiant spirit who endured and served upon her goals. The success of little women gave to her family the comfort she had long desired for them. But to other Americans, it gave much more. The same sense of remembered experience they had found in Mark Twain. The lasting fame of our popular authors testifies to the honored place of literature in the cavalcade of America. This has often been called an age of chemistry. Man is no longer satisfied with things as they are found in nature. So chemists take nature's raw materials and change them into forms better suited to human needs. In exploring nature's secrets, chemists have discovered certain raw materials that rival Aladdin's lamp in the wonders they contain. Would you ever suspect that my lady's lovely evening gown might be first cousin to the safety glass in your car? Or that the colorful lacquer you used on that old chair has anything in common with the photographic film which brings to the screen your favorite movie star? Although they seem unrelated, the products just mentioned are really sisters under the skin. How these and other chemical products are related to each other is told in a book that we have just printed. It is called the kinship of DuPont products and includes a chemical chart in 13 colors. We should be glad to send a free copy to those of our listeners who believe and value in their work or studies. This booklet and chart illustrate in a striking way the meaning of the phrase which guides DuPont chemists better things for better living through chemistry. To avoid disappointing anyone, we wish to make clear that the booklet and chart entitled the kinship of DuPont products are not popular treatises on the romance of chemistry. They contain more or less technical information which will be of interest primarily to those who have studied chemistry or who use chemicals in their business. If you believe this booklet and chart will prove of interest to you, just write to Pont, Wilmington, Delaware. A copy will be sent to you absolutely free of charge. Simply address DuPont, D-U-P-O-M-T, Wilmington, Delaware. Opportunity, a subject which includes some interesting stories of Benjamin Franklin, will be the title of the broadcast next week at this same time when DuPont again presents The Cavalcade of America. The Columbia Broadcasting System.