with the years, but
remains always fresh, always inspiring, always welcome. History-facts
dug by the job, with sweat and tears out of a dry and spiritless
text-book--but never mind, all who have suffered know what that is...

I remain, dear madam,
Sincerely yours,
S. L. CLEMENS.

Mark Twain had a special fondness for cats. As a boy he always
owned one and it generally had a seat beside him at the table.
There were cats at Quarry Farm and at Hartford, and in the house at
Redding there was a gray mother-cat named Tammany, of which he was
especially fond. Kittens capering about were his chief delight.
In a letter to a Chicago woman he tells how those of Tammany
assisted at his favorite game.

*****

To Mrs. Mabel Larkin Patterson, in Chicago:

REDDING, CONNECTICUT,
Oct. 2, '08.

DEAR MRS. PATTERSON,--The contents of your letter are very pleasant
and very welcome, and I thank you for them, sincerely. If I can find a
photograph of my "Tammany" and her kittens, I will enclose it in this.

One of them likes to be crammed into a corner-pocket of the billiard
table--which he fits as snugly as does a finger in a glove and then he
watches the game (and obstructs it) by the hour, and spoils many a shot
by putting out his paw and changing the direction of a passing ball.
Whenever a ball is in his arms, or so close to him that it cannot be
played upon without risk of hurting him, the player is privileged to
remove it to anyone of the 3 spots that chances to be vacant.

Ah, no, my lecturing days are over for good and all.

Sincerely yours,
S. L. CLEMENS.

The letter to Howells which follows was written a short time before
the passage of the copyright extension bill, which rendered Mark
Twain's new plan, here mentioned, unneeded--at least for the time.

*****

To W. D. Howells, in New York:

Monday, Oct. 26, '08.
Oh, I say! Where are you hiding, and why are you hiding? You promised
to come here and you didn't keep your word. (This sounds like
astonishment--but don't be misled by that.)

Come,