It is not the want of an international copy-right alone, that keeps down the standard and the worth of American books; it is because these night-prowlers, these whisky-drinkers, these self-styled “humorists” (alas! that humor should be fallen so low,) by their incessant howling so fill the papers, the lecture stands and the ears of our countrymen, that they are forced to be taken as the general representatives of our culture and our literature. (Towner 1869 [bib11568])

To many minds, alas! for what human work can be perfect, this book has one blot that I fear will mar its sale—its apparent irreverence, its playful allusions to matters that a large portion of mankind have been taught to regard as sacred. It is dangerous in the extreme for one depending upon the people of Christian lands for his success in life, to rub up violently or pleasantly, and even with no evil intent, against religious prejudices.

I am sure the author means no harm, either in the additional title to his book, or in his mixing up the scenes of a land to which all Christian hearts turn with an awe, and a reverence, with stories of baulky horses, paraphrases of Bible incidents, and flippant suggestions that the present aspect of the country and its inhabitants give rise to. These are only matters that would naturally present themselves to the mind of a nimble-witted man, who was struck by the contrast of things as they are, to their appearance as shown in pictures. (Towner 1869 [bib11570])

This is the latest venture of the prince of American humorists, Mark Twain. ... It is full of unexpectedly bright sayings, which take the reader by sudden surprise; the veriest old blue stocking cannot read it without laughing at its rare and strange combinations of facts and incidents.—It is probably one of the best specimens of quaint and characteristic American humor. . . . There is health about it, and it beams with a cheerful, hopeful, religious vein. (“Book Notices,” 5)