brisk young fellow
should get, and which would transport him with joy, are delayed and
impeded and obstructed until they are fifty years overdue when they
reach him.

It has happened again in this case.

When I was a boy in Missouri I was always on the lookout for invitations
but they always miscarried and went wandering through the aisles of
time; and now they are arriving when I am old and rheumatic and can't
travel and must lose my chance.

I have lost a world of delight through this matter of delaying
invitations. Fifty years ago I would have gone eagerly across the world
to help celebrate anything that might turn up. IT would have made no
difference to me what it was, so that I was there and allowed a chance
to make a noise.

The whole scheme of things is turned wrong end to. Life should begin
with age and its privileges and accumulations, and end with youth and
its capacity to splendidly enjoy such advantages. As things are now,
when in youth a dollar would bring a hundred pleasures, you can't have
it. When you are old, you get it and there is nothing worth buying with
it then.

It's an epitome of life. The first half of it consists of the capacity
to enjoy without the chance; the last half consists of the chance
without the capacity.

I am admonished in many ways that time is pushing me inexorably along. I
am approaching the threshold of age; in 1977 I shall be 142. This is no
time to be flitting about the earth. I must cease from the activities
proper to youth and begin to take on the dignities and gravities and
inertia proper to that season of honorable senility which is on its way
and imminent as indicated above.

Yours is a great and memorable occasion, and as a son of Missouri I
should hold it a high privilege to be there and share your just pride in
the state's achievements; but I must deny myself the indulgence, while
thanking you earnestly for the prized honor you have done me in asking
me to be present.

Very truly yours,
S. L. CLEMENS.

In the foregoing Mark Twain touches upon one of his favorite
fancies: that life should begin with old age and approach strong
manhood, golden youth, to end at last with pampered and beloved
babyhood. Possibly he contemplated writing a story with this idea
as the theme, but He seems never to have done so.

The reader who has followed these letters may remember Yung Wing,