MY DEAR HOWELLS,—I take back the remark that I can't write for the Jan. number. For Twichell and I have had a long walk in the woods and I got to telling him about old Mississippi days of steam-boating glory and grandeur as I saw them (during 5 years) from the pilothouse. He said “What a virgin subject to hurl into a magazine!” I hadn't thought of that before. Would you like a series of papers to run through 3 months or 6 or 9?—or about 4 months, say?
Yrs ever,
MARK.
Howells himself had come from a family of pilots, and rejoiced in
the idea. A few days later Mark Twain forwarded the first
instalment of the new series—those wonderful chapters that begin,
now, with chapter four in the Mississippi book. Apparently he was
not without doubt concerning the manuscript, and accompanied it with
a brief line.
To W. D. Howells, in Boston:
DEAR HOWELLS,—Cut it, scarify it, reject it handle it with entire freedom.
Yrs ever,
MARK.
But Howells had no doubts as to the quality of the new find. He
declared that the “piece” about the Mississippi was capital, that it
almost made the water in their ice-pitcher turn muddy as he read it.
“The sketch of the low-lived little town was so good that I could
have wished that there was more of it. I want the sketches, if you
can make them, every month.”
The “low-lived little town” was Hannibal, and the reader can turn to
the vivid description of it in the chapter already mentioned.
In the same letter Howells refers to a “letter from Limerick,” which
he declares he shall keep until he has shown it around—especially
to Aldrich and Osgood.
The “letter from Limerick” has to do with a special episode.
Mention has just been made of Mark Twain's walk with Twichell.
Frequently their walks were extended tramps, and once in a daring
moment one or the other of them proposed to walk to Boston. The
time was November, and the bracing air made the proposition seem
attractive. They were off one morning early, Twichell carrying a
little bag, and Clemens a basket of luncheon. A few days before,
Clemens had written Redpath that the Rev. J. H. Twichell and he
expected to start at eight o'clock Thursday morning “to walk to
Boston in twenty-four hours—or more. We shall telegraph Young's
Hotel for rooms Saturday night, in order to allow for a low average
of pedestrianism.”
They did not get quite to Boston. In fact, they got only a little
farther than the twenty-eight miles they made the first day.
Clemens could hardly walk next morning, but they managed to get to
North Ashford, where they took a carriage for the nearest railway
station. There they telegraphed to Redpath and Howells that they
would be in Boston that evening. Howells, of course, had a good
supper and good company awaiting them at his home, and the
pedestrians spent two happy days visiting and recounting their
adventures.
It was one morning, at his hotel, that Mark Twain wrote the Limerick
letter. It was addressed to Mrs. Clemens, but was really intended
for Howells and Twichell and the others whom it mentions. It was an
amusing fancy, rather than a letter, but it deserves place here.
To Mrs. Clemens—-intended for Howells, Aldrich, etc.