When in Nevada, Mark Twain once dropped into a billiard room, and the proprietor, seeing him toying with the cues, asked him if he' would like to play. He said he would. "Knock the balls around a little and let me see how you can shoot," said the proprietor; and, when this had been done, continued, "That's all right. I'll play you lefthanded."
"It hurt my pride," said Mark, when relating the story, "But I played him. We banked for the shot, and he won it. Then he commenced to play, and I commenced to chalk my cue to get ready to play, and he went on playing and I went on chalking my cue; and he played, and I chalked all through that game. When he had run his string out, I said. 'That's wonderful! Perfectly wonderful 'If you can play that way left-handed, what could you do right-handed?' 'Couldn't do anything,' he said; 'I'm a left-handed man.'"—Liverpool Post.