o he
has engaged to play with Mrs. Charles Warner every morning from 10
to 12, he came down to supper last night, full of this pleasant
prospect, but evidently with something on his mind. Finally he said
to mamma in an appologetical tone, Susy Warner and I have a plan.

"Well" mamma said "what now, I wonder?"

Papa said that Susy Warner and he were going to name the chess
after some of the old bible heroes, and then play chess on Sunday.

_April 18, '86._--Mamma and papa Clara and Daisy have gone to New
York to see the "Mikado." They are coming home to-night at half
past seven.

Last winter when Mr. Cable was lecturing with papa, he wrote this
letter to him just before he came to visit us.

DEAR UNCLE,--That's one nice thing about me, I never bother any
one, to offer me a good thing twice. You dont ask me to stay over
Sunday, but then you dont ask me to leave Saturday night, and
knowing the nobility of your nature as I do--thank you, I'll stay
till Monday morning.[15]

Your's and the dear familie's
GEORGE W. CABLE.

[_December 22, 1906._] It seems a prodigious while ago! Two or three
nights ago I dined at a friend's house with a score of other men, and at
my side was Cable--actually almost an old man, really almost an old man,
that once so young chap! 62 years old, frost on his head, seven
grandchildren in stock, and a brand-new wife to re-begin life with!

[_Dictated Nov. 19, 1906._]

Ever since papa and mamma were married, papa has written his books
and then taken them to mamma in manuscript and she has expergated
them. Papa read "Huckleberry Finn" to us in manuscript just before
it came out, and then he would leave parts of it with mamma to
expergate, while he went off up to the study to work, and sometimes
Clara and I would be sitting with mamma while she was looking the
manuscript over, and I remember so well, with what pangs of regret
we used to see her turn down the leaves of the pages, which meant
that some delightfully dreadful part must be scratched out. And I
remember one part pertickularly which was perfectly fascinating it
was dreadful, that Clara and I used to delight in, and oh with what
dispair we saw mamma turn down the leaf on which it was written, we
thought the book would