ter was written to the Secretary
of Agriculture.

*****

To Hon. J. Sterling Morton, in Washington, D. C.: Editorial Department
Century Magazine, Union Square,

NEW YORK, April 6, 1893.

TO THE HON. J. STERLING MORTON,--Dear Sir: Your petitioner, Mark Twain,
a poor farmer of Connecticut--indeed, the poorest one there, in the
opinion of many-desires a few choice breeds of seed corn (maize), and in
return will zealously support the Administration in all ways honorable
and otherwise.

To speak by the card, I want these things to hurry to Italy to an
English lady. She is a neighbor of mine outside of Florence, and has a
great garden and thinks she could raise corn for her table if she had
the right ammunition. I myself feel a warm interest in this enterprise,
both on patriotic grounds and because I have a key to that garden, which
I got made from a wax impression. It is not very good soil, still I
think she can grow enough for one table and I am in a position to select
the table. If you are willing to aid and abet a countryman (and
Gilder thinks you are,) please find the signature and address of your
petitioner below.

Respectfully and truly yours.

MARK TWAIN,

67 Fifth Avenue, New York.

P. S.--A handful of choice (Southern) watermelon seeds would pleasantly
add to that lady's employments and give my table a corresponding lift.

His idea of business values had moderated considerably by the time
he had returned to Florence. He was not hopeless yet, but he was
clearly a good deal disheartened--anxious for freedom.

*****

To Fred J. Hall, in New York:

FLORENCE May 30, '93

DEAR MR. HALL,--You were to cable me if you sold any machine
royalties--so I judge you have not succeeded.

This has depressed me. I have been looking over the past year's letters
and statements and am depressed still more.

I am terribly tired of business. I am by nature and disposition unfitted
for it and I want to get out of it. I am standing on the Mount Morris
volcano with help from the machine a long way off--doubtless a long way
further off than the Connecticut Co. imagines.

Now here is my idea for getting out.

The firm owes Mrs. Clemens and me--I do not know quite how much, but
it is about $170,000 or $175,000, I suppose (I make this guess from the
documents here, whose t