y good to
look at.

I'm keeping you in mind, you see, in the matter of photographs. I have a
couple to enclose in this letter and I want you to say you got them, and
then I shall know I have been a good truthful child.

I am going to send more as I ferret them out, about the place.--And I
won't forget that you are a "subscriber."

The wife and I unite in warm regards to you and Mrs. Aldrich.

Yrs ever,
S. L. CLEMENS.

A letter bearing the same date as the above went back to Howells, we
find, in reference to still another incident, which perhaps should
come first.

Mark Twain up to this time had worn the black "string" necktie of
the West--a decoration which disturbed Mrs. Clemens, and invited
remarks from his friends. He had persisted in it, however, up to
the date of the Atlantic dinner, when Howells and Aldrich decided
that something must be done about it.

*****

To W. D. Howells, in Boston:

HARTFORD, Dec. 18, 1874.

MY DEAR HOWELLS,--I left No. 3, (Miss. chapter) in my eldest's reach,
and it may have gone to the postman and it likewise may have gone into
the fire. I confess to a dread that the latter is the case and that that
stack of MS will have to be written over again. If so, O for the return
of the lamented Herod!

You and Aldrich have made one woman deeply and sincerely grateful--Mrs.
Clemens. For months--I may even say years--she had shown unaccountable
animosity toward my neck-tie, even getting up in the night to take it
with the tongs and blackguard it--sometimes also going so far as to
threaten it.

When I said you and Aldrich had given me two new neck-ties, and that
they were in a paper in my overcoat pocket, she was in a fever of
happiness until she found I was going to frame them; then all the venom
in her nature gathered itself together,--insomuch that I, being near to
a door, went without, perceiving danger.

Now I wear one of the new neck-ties, nothing being sacred in Mrs.
Clemens's eyes that can be perverted to a gaud that shall make the
person of her husband more alluring than it was aforetime.

Jo Twichell was the delightedest old boy I ever saw, when he read the
words you had written in that book. He and I went to the Concert of the
Yale students last night and had a good time.

Mrs. Clemens dreads our going to New Orl