DEAR BROTHER:
I AM TRYING T TO GET THE HANG OF THIS NEW F FANGLED WRITING MACHINE, BUT AM NOT MAKING A SHINING SUCCESS OF IT. HOWEVER THIS IS THE FIRST ATTEMPT I EVER HAVE MADE, & YET I PERCEIVETHAT I SHALL SOON & EASILY ACQUIRE A FINE FACILITY IN ITS USE. I SAW THE THING IN BOSTON THE OTHER DAY & WAS GREATLY TAKEN WI:TH IT. SUSIE HAS STRUCK THE KEYS ONCE OR TWICE, & NO DOUBT HAS PRINTED SOME LETTERS WHICH DO NOT BELONG WHERE SHE PUT THEM.
THE HAVING BEEN A COMPOSITOR IS LIKELY TO BE A GREAT HELP TO ME, SINCE ONE CHIEFLY NEEDS SWIFTNESS IN BANGING THE KEYS. THE MACHINE COSTS 125 DOLLARS. THE MACHINE HAS SEVERAL VIRTUES. I BELIEVE IT WILL PRINT FASTER THAN I CAN WRITE. ONE MAY LEAN BACK IN HIS CHAIR & WORK IT. IT PILES AN AWFUL STACK OF WORDS ON ONE PAGE. IT DONT MUSS THINGS OR SCATTER INK BLOTS AROUND. OF COURSE IT SAVES PAPER.
SUSIE IS GONE, NOW, & I FANCY I SHALL MAKE BETTER PROGRESS. WORKING THIS TYPE-WRITER REMINDS ME OF OLD ROBERT BUCHANAN, WHO, YOU REMEMBER, USED TO SET UP ARTICLES AT THE CASE WITHOUT PREVIOUSLY PUTTING THEM IN THE FORM OF MANUSCRIPT. I WAS LOST IN ADMIRATION OF SUCH MARVELOUS INTELLECTUAL CAPACITY.
LOVE TO MOLLIE.
YOUR BROTHER,
SAM.
Another letter, typed by Mark Twain himself, appears in fac-simile in his “Autobiography.” This letter was written to his brother, Orien Clemens, three months before the letter to E. Remington & Sons, and before the “curiosity breeding little joker” had worn out his patience. It has a special interest because it was the first letter written by Mark Twain on his first typewriter. The row of characters typed across the top of the sheet are undoubtedly the work of Mark Twain’s little daughter Susie, to whom reference is made in the letter.
Mark Twain’s description of the first typewriter as a “curiosity breeding little joker” applies very well to those who had some inkling of what the machine really was, but, on those who did not, the impression was sometimes very different. The story is classic of the Kentucky mountaineer who returned his first typewritten letter to the man who wrote it, with the words indignantly scribbled on the margin, “You don’t need to print no letters for me. I kin read writin.” This particular yarn cannot be verified, but there were plenty of similar cases. J. P. Johns, a Texas insurance man and banker in the seventies, gives the following transcript from memory of a reply he once received from one of his agents to one of his first typewritten letters:
Dear Sir:
I received your communication and will act accordingly.
There is a matter I would like to speak to you about. I realize, Mr. Johns, that I do not possess the education which you have. However, until your last letter I have always been able to read the writing.
I do not think it was necessary then, nor will be in the future, to have your letters to me taken to the printers, and set up like a hand bill. I will be able to read your writing and am deeply chagrined to think you thought such a course necessary.