ited this stuff out of
it--on the ground that the first part is not delicate & the last
part is indelicate. Now, there's a nice distinction for you--&
correctly stated, too, & perfectly true.

It may interest the reader to consider briefly the manner in which Mark
Twain's "editor" dealt with his manuscript, and a few pages of this
particular book remain as examples. That he was not always entirely
tractable, or at least submissive, but that he did yield, and
graciously, is clearly shown.

In one of her comments Mrs. Clemens wrote:

Page 597. I hate to say it, but it seems to me that you go too
minutely into particulars in describing the feats of the
aboriginals. I felt it in the boomerang-throwing.

And Clemens just below has written:

Boomerang has been furnished with a special train--that is, I've
turned it into "Appendix." Will that answer?

Page 1002. I don't like the "shady-principled cat that has a family
in every port."

Then I'll modify him just a little.

Page 1020. 9th line from the top. I think some other word would be
better than "stench." You have used that pretty often.

But can't I get it in anywhere? You've knocked it out every time.
Out it goes again. And yet "stench" is a noble, good word.

Page 1038. I hate to have your father pictured as lashing a slave
boy.

It's out, and my father is whitewashed.

Page 1050. 2d line from the bottom. Change breech-clout. It's a
word that you love and I abominate. I would take that and "offal"
out of the language.

You are steadily weakening the English tongue, Livy.

Page 1095. Perhaps you don't care, but whoever told you that the
Prince's green stones were rubies told an untruth. They were superb
emeralds. Those strings of pearls and emeralds were famous all over
Bombay.

All right, I'll make them emeralds, but it loses force. Green
rubies is a fresh thing. And besides it was one of the Prince's own
staff liars that told me.

That the book was not quite done, even after the triumphant entry of
April 13th, is shown by another note which followed something more than
a month later:

May 18, 1897. Finished the book again--addition of 30,000 words.

And to MacAlister he wrote:

I have finished the book at last--and finished it for good this
time. Now I am ready for dissipation with a good conscience. What
night wil