TS, as an extra
chapter, if you are not afraid to put your own humor in competition with
it. It is as rich a thing as I ever read.

(Which is strong commendation from a book publisher.)

The London Reviewer, my friend, is not the stupid, "serious" creature he
pretends to be, _I_ think; but, on the contrary, has a keep appreciation
and enjoyment of your book. As I read his article in THE GALAXY, I could
imagine him giving vent to many a hearty laugh. But he is writing for
Catholics and Established Church people, and high-toned, antiquated,
conservative gentility, whom it is a delight to him to help you shock,
while he pretends to shake his head with owlish density. He is a
magnificent humorist himself.

(Now that is graceful and handsome. I take off my hat to my life-long
friend and comrade, and with my feet together and my fingers spread over
my heart, I say, in the language of Alabama, "You do me proud.")

I stand guilty of the authorship of the article, but I did not mean any
harm. I saw by an item in the Boston ADVERTISER that a solemn, serious
critique on the English edition of my book had appeared in the London
SATURDAY REVIEW, and the idea of SUCH a literary breakfast by a stolid,
ponderous British ogre of the quill was too much for a naturally weak
virtue, and I went home and burlesqued it--reveled in it, I may say. I
never saw a copy of the real SATURDAY REVIEW criticism until after my
burlesque was written and mailed to the printer. But when I did get hold
of a copy, I found it to be vulgar, awkwardly written, ill-natured, and
entirely serious and in earnest. The gentleman who wrote the newspaper
paragraph above quoted had not been misled as to its character.

If any man doubts my word now, I will kill him. No, I will not kill him;
I will win his money. I will bet him twenty to one, and let any New York
publisher hold the stakes, that the statements I have above made as to
the authorship of the article in question are entirely true. Perhaps
I may get wealthy at this, for I am willing to take all the bets that
offer; and if a man wants larger odds, I will give him all he requires.
But he ought to find out whether I am betting on what is termed "a sure
thing" or not before he ventures his money, and he can do that by going
to a public library and examining the London SATURDAY REVIEW of October
8th, which contains the real critique.

Bless me, some people thought that _I_ was the "sold" person!

P.S