lect his circumstance, even in the minutest fractional degree.
It was selected for him with his disposition; in that first instant of
created life. Clemens himself repeatedly emphasized this doctrine, and
once, when it was suggested to him that it seemed to "surround every
thing, like the sky," he answered:

"Yes, like the sky; you can't break through anywhere."

Colonel Harvey came to Dublin that summer and persuaded Clemens to let
him print some selections from the dictations in the new volume of the
North American Review, which he proposed to issue fortnightly. The
matter was discussed a good deal, and it was believed that one hundred
thousand words could be selected which would be usable forthwith, as well
as in that long-deferred period for which it was planned. Colonel Harvey
agreed to take a copy of the dictated matter and make the selections
himself, and this plan was carried out. It may be said that most of the
chapters were delightful enough; though, had it been possible to edit
them with the more positive documents as a guide, certain complications
might have been avoided. It does not matter now, and it was not a matter
of very wide import then.

The payment of these chapters netted Clemens thirty thousand dollars--a
comfortable sum, which he promptly proposed to spend in building on the
property at Redding. He engaged John Mead Howells to prepare some
preliminary plans.

Clara Clemens, at Norfolk, was written to of the matter.

A little later I joined her in Redding, and she was the first of the
family to see that beautiful hilltop. She was well pleased with the
situation, and that day selected the spot where the house should stand.
Clemens wrote Howells that he proposed to call it "Autobiography House,"
as it was to be built out of the Review money, and he said:

"If you will build on my farm and live there it will set Mrs. Howells's
health up for sure. Come and I'll sell you the site for twenty-five
dollars. John will tell you it is a choice place."

The unusual summer was near its close. In my notebook, under date of
September 16th, appears this entry:

Windy in valleys but not cold. This veranda is protected. It is
peaceful here and perfect, but we are at the summer's end.

This is my last entry, and the dictations must have ceased a few days
later. I do not remember the date of the return to New York, and
apparently I made no record of it; but I do not think it could have been
later th