y that's not the time. I see how you were
situated--another familiarity of Providence and wholly wanton
intrusion--and of course we could not help ourselves. Well, just
think of it: a while ago, while Providence's attention was absorbed in
disordering some time-tables so as to break up a trip of mine to Mr.
Church's on the Hudson, that Johnstown dam got loose. I swear I was
afraid to pray, for fear I should laugh. Well, I'm not going to despair;
we'll manage a meet yet.

I expect to go to Hartford again in August and maybe remain till I have
to come back here and fetch the family. And, along there in August, some
time, you let on that you are going to Mexico, and I will let on that I
am going to Spitzbergen, and then under cover of this clever stratagem
we will glide from the trains at Worcester and have a time. I have
noticed that Providence is indifferent about Mexico and Spitzbergen.

Ys Ever
MARK.

Possibly Mark Twain was not particularly anxious that Howells should
see his MS., fearing that he might lay a ruthless hand on some of
his more violent fulminations and wild fancies. However this may
be, further postponement was soon at an end. Mrs. Clemens's eyes
troubled her and would not permit her to read, so she requested that
the Yankee be passed upon by soberminded critics, such as Howells
and Edmund Clarence Stedman. Howells wrote that even if he hadn't
wanted to read the book for its own sake, or for the author's sake,
he would still want to do it for Mrs. Clemens's. Whereupon the
proofs were started in his direction.

*****

To W. D. Howells, in Boston:

ELMIRA, Aug. 24, '89.

DEAR HOWELLS,--If you should be moved to speak of my book in the Study,
I shall be glad and proud--and the sooner it gets in, the better for the
book; though I don't suppose you can get it in earlier than the November
number--why, no, you can't get it in till a month later than that. Well,
anyway I don't think I'll send out any other press copy--except perhaps
to Stedman. I'm not writing for those parties who miscall themselves
critics, and I don't care to have them paw the book at all. It's my
swan-song, my retirement from literature permanently, and I wish to pass
to the cemetery unclodded.

I judge that the proofs have begun to reach you about thi